What makes a season worthwhile? What constitutes a good summer's work?
One friend is off in Europe, touring Paris, Amsterdam, Brussels, taking classes and wining and dining beautiful women.
One friend is busy with an internship, getting career experience and money in one fell swoop.
One friend is home in Miami, enjoying her childhood friends and prepping for her last year of undergrad.
Two friends are in South Florida, partying it up every day and every night.
Two friends are on a cross-country road trips with their guitars.
And I? I am taking two classes, desperately clinging to the unraveling threads of my social life, and failing miserably at finding a job.
I sit at home, when class is done and my books are closed, with the television on and my unfinished manuscripts open, begging for completion. But I cannot write the way I want to, each word is forced from my fingertips and my prose becomes ever more stilted and untrue.
What can I do to make my summer feel alive? When my friends return from the ends of the earth, what will I have to say to them? Their stories of the grandeur of Europe and the brash freedom of the American road...and mine of studies and Saturday night mojitos?
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