Nothing said, and nothing worth saying really.

August is ending.

It happens every year. August is an ending month, after all, in the same way as January and July are static months and November is transition. By my brother's birthday, we begin with the sweaters -- and it starts to smell like fall. Soon I'll have to rewrite that paragraph in the sidebar.

Now, I could say that this summer has been a terrible disappointment, because we had such high hopes at the beginning. It hasn't been bad. There have been good times when a lot was going on, and low points when days of nothing stretched in either direction. Seriously, though, we have to give summer credit: it hasn't been life-changing, but I suppose that's a lot to ask of one season.

And I went to Italy.

I'm finally ready for school to start, finally ready to walk into room 314 and take up a lonely seat by the window. I'm not anxious, but I've accepted the future. After all, as Alicia put it, it's GRADE NINE.

Hey, I can't help letting my hopes fly high again. It's what I do. Believe you me, if anything worthwhile happens you are all going to hear about it.

Someday I'll do worthwhile stuff. Someday I'll swim a lap underwater and write a book and master the Pete Townshend Electric Guitar Windmill Strum and create something truly beautiful. But as the summer sun sinks toward the west, I am filled with a strange, uncharacteristic sense of calm. I should be jumping up and down because time is running out for me and my life, should be worrying that soon I'll have to actually do stuff, the way I ranted about for Public Speaking. I'm not.

Is that stupid or wise? I have no idea...it probably isn't permanent anyway. Whatever the answer, it's making it a lot easier for me to go back to school. That and the prospect of seeing everyone again. I love you guys.

Maybe I'm just not awake yet, or bored. We shall see.