Late Summer Struggles

Howdy.
Long time no write/read. I've started 4 or 5 posts in the last couple of weeks, but nothing seemed blog-worthy. The kids have started school, and all signs point to a good, successful year. I am reaping the rewards of two years of finding my way in a job of my own design, and feel trusted, valued and enjoyed at work. My students are mild-mannered, eager to learn and delightful. I had a short and mild head cold, which slid slowly to my chest.

I think I've figured out part of my ennui; last night I realized I'm wheezing like crazy. I'll try to see a doctor.

I'm reading The Razor's Edge by Somerset Maugham, and I'm affected by it in much the same way that Hemingway and Salinger affect me. That is, I feel smart but cynical, and tired, and discouraged. Having said that, Hemingway and Salinger are two of my enduring favorites, and The Razor's Edge really is a brilliant book. I've never read anything by Somerset Maugham, and I see that I'll have to be careful about picking up another.

A precious, nascent friendship that needs more nurturing, unique in that it is dependent on the internet, seems threatened by illness. My 94-year-old grandfather is finally facing what seems to be the end of his life. A classmate from middle and high school passed away in the last couple of weeks.

To temper the gloom, I must emphasize that my internet friend hasn't indulged in a lot of wailing, does not seem to be in any immediate danger, and is in any case a very determined, tenacious and buoyant personality. (Hi, internet friend.)

I don't have a particularly intimate relationship with my grandfather- he is of a generation that is confused by emotional examination, and his second marriage (upon the untimely death of my still young, vibrant and lovely grandmother) damaged his relationships with his children and grandchildren. I hadn't thought of the classmate in years, and although he was my "boyfriend" and date to the big spring dance when I was in 8th grade, we weren't close during high school.

These things, and the subtle signs of summer's end, are slowing me down. It's just the blues. Nothing is wrong with me.