I have some bad news for you, Sparklers. Summer is over. I just shoved my Garfield beach towel into the deepest recesses of the closet, knowing I won’t need it again for months. (Unless I run out of regular bath towels, of course.) And a more disturbing sign is that my tan—once luxurious and perfect for disguising random blemishes—has started to fade. But except for my abiding love for Civil War reenactments, I’m not one to live in the past. That’s why I’m hurtling into autumn headlong and at great speed, eager to toss handfuls of fallen leaves into the crisp air while sporting a new flannel shirt. Unfortunately, it’s still quite warm here in the Newest of York Cities, and the leaves are still green and attached. So while I’m waiting for things to cool down and for lumberjack shirts to become fashionable again, let's see what's troubling you during this transitional time of year.

Sparkler veevee3 knows all about moving abroad. Any of you Sparklers in the same situation? Enjoy the post! —SparkNotes Editors

It happens more than you think, moving overseas. It can happen if your parents work for the government, or if their companies relocate, or if your grandparents from the other side of the world are insisting that you come home. The numbers are enough to open schools with a decent-sized western population.
But you don’t want to go. Of course you don’t. You have to leave everyone and everything behind. But fear not! I have written nine tips for the future expatriate teen.

"What did you do on your summer vacation?" Three teachers and 20 sort-of friends inevitably ask this question at the beginning of every school year. Earlier this month, we gave you some great answers to it. But if you still don't have your story straight, and you didn’t spend the summer studying turtles in the Galapagos Islands or modeling in Paris, here are some ways to make what you did do sound more exciting:

The first week of August is just about over, and it has been brought to my attention that many of you will be returning to school soon. I am truly sorry about this. If it were up to me, summer would continue forever, and we’d all occupy a state of perpetual relaxation, as illustrated by this picture I took of myself, which must be getting old by now. Maybe I should take a new snap that conveys a serious commitment to learning. Or maybe not. For the time being, I’ll just answer these questions—several of which are school-related—while brainstorming self-portrait options. If you have any suggestions, let me know!

Every winter, I find myself sad and depressed for no reason at all. I make up excuses to be sad, and I isolate myself from my friends. It's gotten worse over the years. I actually started cutting myself last winter. Luckily, I snapped out of it in a month or two. I have no reason to be depressed: I have great friends, a great family, and I get fantastic grades. Weird thing is, as soon as spring rolls around, all of my problems disappear, and I'm the happy, optimistic person I'm supposed to be. I don't know what's wrong with me. Something about November, December, and January make me a completely different person, and it scares me. Now that summer's ending, I'm really nervous about whether or not I'll fall back into this snow-induced depression. Am I not alone? Is there any way to stop this?

Remember Simbelmyne, our Sparkler who nearly drowned in her own bathroom in Greece? Here she is again, with a summary of her travels! —SparkNotes Editors

Shopping

This is our third day in Preveza (a pretty coastal area, with oodles and oodles of beach), and I must say, I may have single-handedly boosted the local economy by a significant amount. Gift shop owners positively faint with happiness when I walk in the door, and I’m pretty sure I’ve helped put a few of their children through college by now. I most likely have an evil eye necklace for every day of the year.

I bet you thought “pwn” went out of style in late 2007 along with expressions such as “w00t,” “pr0n,” “n00b,” and “sux0rz.” Well, it kinda did. (The last recorded usage was by your dad, who claimed to have "utterly pwned a plate of chicken cacciatore.") But now it’s back in all its unpronounceable glory, and I am going to re-embrace it. Few words capture the ineffable ridiculousness of the internet so well. "zOMG" is a pretty close second, although it's only really useful when you are about to be attacked by the living dead, at which point you can yell, "zOMG! zOMBIES!" Happens to me all the time. You know what else happens to me all the time? I get good questions from Sparklers. So let's have at 'em.

Sparkler Simbelmyne is blogging from Greece, where she's spending her summer with her best friend, Tory, as well as her brother, uncle and grandma. Click here to see her last installment! —SparkNotes Editors

OH MY GUMDROPS!
Everything is wet! Everything! I’m writing this from the top of a dresser, into which Tory is shoving everything we brought with us to Greece. We must have ghastly, horrible, nauseatingly dreadful karma. That, or I’m dreaming and any second now a huge, dancing chocolate bar will waltz into the room and whisk me away to his palace of sugar and yummy things.

Actually, at the moment he might have to wade into the room. Or swim. Or maybe take a small seafaring vessel.

If you've traveled this summer (or ever, really) you might have noticed that everyone has his or her own preferred way to spend a vacation. For example, you might think a three-day whitewater rafting/camping trip sounds awesome, but your brother would much rather visit the Library of Congress (who chooses to go to a library on vacation?! Your brother is nuts).

So to help you navigate the landscape of tourists, we've spent weeks days hours time itemizing a few notable traveler types. Warning: You may find yourself or a close friend or family member on this list.

Sparkler Simbelmyne has just arrived in Greece with her best friend, Tory, her brother, and her grandma and is blogging about her adventures for SparkLife! Read more about her trip in her first summer blog post. —SparkNotes Editors

I’ll admit, I’ve thought about my final moments before. Will I be the victim of some insane super-virus, turning purple with pink spots in a government facility somewhere in the deep Arctic? Will I be taken prisoner by pirates and forced to walk a 2 x 4 into eel-infested waters? Will I meet my end by fire? Falling rocks? Poorly-cooked steak?

Yes, I’ve thought of many an exciting death befitting a glorious and illustrious life such as my own, but do you know what never once enters into any of these thrilling scenarios?

Goats.