“you don’t hate the summer, you’re just afraid of the space”
Once again, I am sitting here writing about Noah Kahan. I promise this is not a Noah Kahan blog. Words are just really important to me, and where I hear the most repetition of prose is in music – and currently its in Noah Kahan’s Cape Elizabeth.
Maine by Noah Kahan is an underrated gem. Siloed away from the glory of Stick Season, no one really knows it, but its my gut punch cry, laugh, scream, walk, drive, literally any hour of the day song. It exists for the girlies who can’t sit still, who grimace at being told to relax, who are ambitious to a detriment, told that they were too intense, and hated summer break. But also for those around them – the ones who can’t catch up, and are maybe better off for it.
Somehow both of these individuals exist in me.
I guess I’m really just describing myself here and praying to god someone else relates, but yea, I was that insufferable high schooler who cried on the last day of school. Not because they were gonna miss their friends or were moving away next year, but because she didn’t know what to do with herself if not fully and always occupied with constant work and praise. I hated the summer.
If not clear, I’ve never loved the idea of a break. I blame this partly on the ultra productive town I grew up in outside of DC with the emphasis of Harvard and Yale being placed on me at age 8. Like truly, I cried on halloween in the third grade because I thought the D I received on my times table secured my place as a a life long fuck up. I love my intrinsic brain, but also, its curious nature seems to never want to shut down. There’s always more out there.
Back to summer.
I’ve always been told summers are meant to be devoted to the career; finally getting away to put into practice all the work you’ve learned in the school year. Its the opportunity to get ahead, be who you want to be, and ensure future success.
The last few summers I’ve done this. Hustled my ass into jobs I’m not qualified for, researched with choreorobotics at Brown, and spent every minute of every hour scheduled. But as dreaded December 1st application opening for internships have arrived, I’m now realizing my “maine” character has shifted from the voyager to the homebody. I’m no longer the one chasing the dreams away, but rather the one begging others to take me back at home. I don’t want to see the more and slay the dragons, but rather, just exist. Something about that peace and quiet feels like something I need to have. Damnit I wanna go to Maine.
My Maine is not actually Maine, or even New England at that, but rather a tiny town in Northern North Dakota. There’s nothing really there, population:300, maybe a chicken or too, but the pressure is gone. No one really knows who you are, but I know my way around, and get to just be. There’s a sense of nostalgia for a life I never led there; what would have been if my parents didn’t move away from the rest of the family into the city. With 500 acres between us and next there’s a whole lot of that terrifying space.
What does it mean to not be afraid of the space? Frankly, I don’t know. The art of slowing down is not one they teach at art school. That’s another days words. But there’s books to be read and I would just love the non cluttered visual and metaphorical landscape to think deep thoughts.
So yea, I wanna go to Maine.
#wanna #maine
