I haven't written here in a while because I, Blair W. Martin, have been busy. During the twelve weeks that I've been away I have traveled for a journalism conference, started my first job, fallen out of friendship with somebody that I once held dear, started running again, consumed ice cream on a nightly basis, lost a loved one, and experienced a million of memorable moments in between. I've always had a complex relationship with the summertime simply because the season lacks the buzziness that excites me during the other nine months of the year. Summer is slow, shimmery, deliberate. It's pacing gives people time to really sit with themselves and I think that I've always felt a bit warily about that. Time to sit means time to think and time to think means time to worry---and I have a history of always taking advantage of that time. In the past, summer has always gone a similar way: I'd get let out of school, excited about all of the time that lay ahead of me, o