I don’t know what made me think of this.

Maybe it was a song on the radio. A name that crossed my mind. Or just the memory dangled over my head, so I had no choice but to dive in and replay some memories. Some I don’t think I could even explain.

But we all have that ONE summer (maybe two).

The summer that was better than any other summers.

With friends.

With family.

Always out doing something.

I think mine was somewhere around 2009. I was in high school. I didn’t have a boyfriend, but I had my crew. My 2 best friends and some guys who probably were crushing on one, two, or all of us – in any particular order.

I remember driving around my small little town. (It’s not so small anymore).

Every time one of the guys would pick us up, it was like an adventure.

For whatever reason, none of the girls drove. I think when we did drive, we used our parents cars and it was only to get to school. Maybe I didn’t even have a permit yet. I don’t remember.

Either way, the boys took turns driving. And one by one they would pick us up. All in nearby neighborhoods.

Usually I was the second person to pick up. My friend Chelsea, Addam, and Taylor would be in the car. All we had missing was Andrea. So after we picked her up – the day was up in the air as to what we were going to do.

Usually they would blast some music as they rolled up to my cul-du-sac.

My dad always scolded me when they pulled up so obnoxiously to our quiet neighborhood when it was still early in the morning. But I knew usually that I would be gone till it got dark outside. Sometimes even later.

There were times we would just go to random stores and chase each other. Try on silly clothes, silly hats, glasses and other accessories.

Go to the mall a lot too. Just window shop.

Snow cones was pretty regular too.

Driving the back roads of the countryside.

Hanging around friends houses. Playing card games. Trying to be polite most of the time to the parents.

Riding around in golf carts.

It was simple and fun.

There was always food involved. The debate where to eat lunch.

Lunch was always at a different time. Kind of when everyone finally was hungry and agreed on a place. Sonic was a usual. Hang outside and sip on a Route 42. Sometimes pizza. Sometimes Chinese. Anything cheap.

Rain. Snow or Shine. I remember that Sonic was THE SPOT. Even after summer.

Yet Summer 2009 was special.

We were always outside. Usually at the lake. Either kayaking. Jumping off bridges. On Jet Ski’s or whatever we could do outside. I think one of they boy’s parents were pretty well off and trusted a bunch of teens with Jet Skis unsupervised.

We were reckless sometimes.

There was one time we had an indoor/outdoor water gun fight with the boys and one of their little brothers. I remember I was loosing really badly. So I ran into the bathroom to lock myself in. The twelve year old somehow managed to get onto the roof when I was trying to protect myself from being attacked. I think he may have switched over to a paintball gun or some other painful little pellet thing. Not quite a BB gun – but you get the idea.

I was laughing so hard and was simultaneously so scared!!

Man, I was cornered. From the inside the guys were messing with me and shooting these pellets at me from under the door! I had to jump around so my feet wouldn’t get hit! They were banging on the door and the little brother eventually was opening the window somehow!

I push through the door screaming and laughing.

” HEY!!!! I thought we were doing water guns you guys!!!!!!

I had never laughed so hard. Or had that much fun in a short period of time. I knew my parents would have killed me if I did such havoc at their house with my friends.

The house totally took some damage.

There was also this crazy kid named Taylor. He was also a part of our group. He had some memorable moments. And I think all the inside jokes came from him.

There was one time late at night we decided to go through a carwash. He got down to his boxers and laid on top of the car.

You can already see this is not a great idea. He even managed to have goggles on so the high pressure water would not get in his eyes and blind him.

It was pretty stupid – but a cautious, silly kind of stupid.

We watch as the car and Taylor go through the car wash. The anticipation was great. He was so anxious and worried. But still wanted to do it.

“You guys this is going to suck. You guys, guys…..GUYS. OH MY GOD WHAT AM I DOING. GUYS. THIS IS GOING TO HURT SO BAD.”

As we snicker from behind the self car wash watching.

After the colorful soap spit out and applied he laughed. “This isn’t so bad! I won’t have to shower tonight. This is great!”

As he scrubs under his armpits.

But then the high pressure water comes on……

After a few seconds he slips off the top of the car yelling. Catching himself as he almost falls down again and runs out the car wash. The whole time yelling….yelling….yelling….

We were laughing so hard. Some people were recording from their flip phones. I think he was either yelling from it being so cold or also the pressure. Maybe it didn’t hurt at all. Or maybe he made it more oboxious because he was on camera.

Still, I don’t know what was funnier – everyone contagiously laughing…. Belching these big belly clenching laughs, or how ridiculous Taylor looked in his wet boxers with a massive wedgie and tons of soap still all over him. Oh – and the goggles which were very much sideways.

None the less, it was the best car wash I had ever seen. And one of the most memorable laughs.

Another time Taylor swiped his car on some yellow pole trying to be a “racecar” driver.

There was this abandoned neighborhood that stopped development for a few years and we knew that was the place to go be silly and drive our cars fast. It was fun although it was just a white ford focus. Not really fast but for sixteen, the thrill was taking turns hard and blasting music and messing around.

Like I said, Taylor’s car…. which he named it something… I can’t remember the name. Ole Betty we’ll call her – rocked a yellow stripe across the driver and backseat door for quite some time in high school. Yet it didn’t seem to bother him and only we knew what it was from when we saw it at the school parking lot later that year.

Not sure what he told his parents.

Addam had a Jeep. We would take it into the woods off roading. That was fun too. Sometimes we got stuck and we knew which wannabe rednecks we had to call to get us out.

Our town was not redneck at all. Just a little southern sometimes, but it didn’t really feel like it. I guess our high school had the usual, preppy folks, jocks, nerds, anime people, and then the 4X4 off road reneck group haha.

That was a thing for my high school.

Looking back, the town was very nice. You ran into people often enough at the local Walmart but you still also didn’t know everyone in the town which was ideal.

Anyway, that summer there were times we would go to Chelsea’s to watch a movie or have a sleepover. Then sneak out and go to parties.

These parties were crazy. The ones where drunk people were on the roof and homes got trashed. The nights where you would wake up with battle scars the next morning.

Andrea and I would get high together and go for walks – explore.

She and I also had another group we would hang out with. It was our stoner group. But they didn’t do a whole lot. Just Koom-baya circles and reggae music. Where I learned to appreciate the stoner culture.

Andrea and I normally would hang out more with our sober friends ironically. Although we loved to smoke.

We use to go to Taylor’s grandparents lake house and go tubing.

I cut my heel pretty bad that summer on the boat propeller. My dad bugged me for a few weeks why I was limping. He never found out. I didn’t want him mad.

Addam’s girlfriend at the time one day that summer crashed into me on her JetSki. Idiot. That was bad. Poor Kris knew his parents would be so mad.

I remember one time we bought mentos and threw them in a coke bottle. Watched it explore.

We made homemade ginger ale with dry ice.

We baked lots of cookies and brownies. All sorts of food at Addams house.

Kris had two Golden Retrievers we played with. Use to watch Tosh.O at his place all the time.

We all snuggled too. A lot. The guys would even cuddle too. Especially when we would try to squish six people on a couch.

There was a lot of laying on each other.

Lots of tickles.

Massages.

Hugs.

Smiles and laughs.

We talked about getting a house together one day when we grew up.

We all got along so well.

That summer I can’t remember all the things that we did. We even ran into the cops a few times. How we didn’t ever really get in trouble is insane. Nobody ever got grounded either! Maybe once. But then it was such a relief when they were free again.

I wish I remembered more. Writing helps jog back memories.

But I do remember that every morning I woke up and knew my buddies were coming to pick me up soon. I didn’t know who, in what order, or when – but I knew I was part of the crew. And I anxiously waited.

Everyday we had an adventure no matter how big or small.

I think one of the guys bought a bow and arrow too.

Eminem’s recovery album came out that year – seemed like it was the soundtrack to a bunch of teenagers having fun and just messing around.

That’s all we did. Messed around. Nothing was always super memorable. But there were so many laughs.

Why is it that we only get one summer like that?

I wish there were more.

The older we get, the harder it is to have a crew that just wants to hang out everyday and see what the day brings.

Now we all have jobs. Bills. And responsibilities.

Oh the simple times.

Take me back to 2009.

Yes.

What started off as a relaxing beach day, turned into a frantic “I’m so fucked” jog on the beach as the tide started to rise.

Right when I thought I was running low on stories to tell. This happened to me the other day. And when I called my best friend about it, I was “laugh crying”. The type where you actually are a little upset, or maybe even just shell shocked from the anxiety your body went through.

It was a funny story looking back. But in the moment, boy was I stressin’.

It was a Saturday but I had work bartending that night.

So like any day, I like to take advantage of my free time.

I woke up, grabbed the pup and we went towards the beach. On our way there we drove up Kanan Rd. I use to work at this resort in the Santa Monica Mountains. Beautiful landscape – however they were all scorched black from the fire about two months prior.

It was a sad sight. But I wanted to see the severity of the damage. So we took a detour and drove up Mulholland. It was desolate. Like a neuclear bomb went off.

Lots of houses were damaged. Some standing. You could tell which houses were left untouched because I’m sure people were working hard to protect their homes. While some saw it as too dangerous.

Honestly, I would agree. It is dangerous. But that’s also my home! Everything is there. Not even the materialistic things. Just the sentimental.

And I am a VERY sentimental person.

I would probably have stayed to protect my home too. But having a home in what looked like a war zone would be hard to get use to. I know it would take years for nature to re-grow.

Although, I noticed in Calabassas where the fire too had made a big impact, the valleys were starting to heal and turn green after the fires.

Lush grass was growing! The damage was already being repaired by our beautiful earth.

And it made me think of something.

I use to love driving up Kanan every day on my way to work. It was so beautiful, but this new scene was heartbreaking, truly.

So I had an idea. My inner flower child, the green thumb in me, the environmentalist, whatever you want to call it — I wanted to do something about the damage.

I wanted to start a project. And I still do. It’s a work in progress but I would like to see the community come together and help out. I’ll write a letter to the Malibu city counsel.

I love to garden. I love plants. I love nature. I love trees. And I love California. The mountains are spectacular.

Why not bring it back to life?

Perhaps once a month or even quarterly — what if it was possible to gather thousands of people to meet and plant, one or even two things where the damage was done.

Anything! Just go to Home Depot, Lowes, or your local nursery? Perhaps even bring some nice soil too.

Pick an area each month to work on. and slowly let the restoration efforts begin.

Just plant a tree for shit’s sake.

When the fires happen, helicopters dump massive amounts of water. They also have airplanes dump fire retardant. Why not have them do the same thing — but dump soil and seed?

It would be a massive multi million dollar project but I think that perhaps with the aid of celebrities or public figures, maybe some funding could happen.

Market it right. Advertise it and spread the word.

And even if not. On a smaller scale the community could give back however they want. Maybe make a list of plants that would be suitable to bring. Ones that can re-grow each year. Or better yet, spread!

The Santa Monica mountains need lush vegetation! And I think it’s possible to do. This spring I want to act on this. If I could buy 5 plants however inexpensive they may be. Bring a few gallons of water. Shovel and will power? Multiply that by a few hundred people. Or thousand? And do such efforts each month for the next year? I think a good portion of the mountains could be restored to it’s natural beauty!

Why not help mother nature out? She makes this life possible for us.

I always think of it. Society is quick to rebuild homes, neighborhoods and businesses. We take better care of ourselves than we do the earth.

So I drove around and had this elaborate idea running through my head.

Originally, I was going to take my dog on a hike. But after the second national park I stumbled across which was “closed due to hazardous conditions” aka due to the fire – we went for good ole reliable. The beach.

I drove past Zuma and notice few people were out on this gorgeous Saturday in December.

Once I found a spot suitable, I parked.

My phone was low on battery so I left it in the car – thank god.

All I took was my keys and the chuck it with one solo tennis ball.

We walk up to the beach. Empty with just a handful of people.

I let my dog off leash. Start to throw the ball around.

Some folks walk by with their slightly overweight lab.

We have small talk. They continue walking with their dog following them.

And I thought, “Man, that must be nice, a walk on the beach with your dog off leash.”

I usually tend to stay in one little area because I’m not always so sure how my little guy will do with people we encounter.

He’s usually good but has weird random things he does. Like randomly chooses a weak spirited person to bark at. I always have to apologize.

He isnt mean at all. Just 50/50 chance that he will run up to someone and start barking at them. He really doesn’t do it that often. But in any case – this beach was perfectly empty.

So we went ahead and walked. The folks in front of us with their dog were way up ahead. Eventually they turned around and I asked if the beach ends.

They said no! Just a small strip you might have to run past so the waves don’t get you.

“Cool! Thanks!” I said.

And sure enough, they were right.

The waves came in, crashed against the rocks – and then subsided way back. You just had to time it right. And even if you did get wet, it was only going to be to your ankles.

So we hopscotched our way through to the other end where there was more open sand for us to walk on. And nobody there!

Man how nice is that?

To our right there were huge rocks and boulders for breaking the waves. I’m sure this was for when it’s high tide.

In the moment, I thought nothing of them — other than there were huge beautiful beach houses up above.

My dog and I picked a little area where we would not be seen by the homes. After all the rocks were about 10 feet high.

The sun was getting awfully warm.

So I took my vest off and long sleeve off.

All I had on was my sports bra. It was nice because I didn’t care. Nobody saw me. So I sunbathed. It was extremely relaxing.

The sun was so warm! It felt like summer! I think I may have closed my eyes and dozed off for a few minutes. Occasionally checking on my dog to make sure he was fine.

He just entertained himself with his tennis ball in the water and chased the waves down the coast as they crashed.

Occasionally barking at me to throw the ball. I just wanted to be lazy for a bit.

I finally was able to de-stress a little. Until the peacefulness was disrupted by a helicopter.

It hovered so low near the water. Flying that same height all along the shore and eventually passed us.

My first paranoid thought was, “Oh, maybe we aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Maybe they’re going to yell at me through an intercom to put my dog on a leash since technically they are supposed to be leashed at all times.”

“Maybe some rich guy called the coast guard on us? …I mean I guess I am kinda on the border of a private beach and a public beach.”

But there was no sign stating that. And I walked over here from the public open space down the shore.

Strange.

I felt a little uneasy and then out of the corner of my eye I saw a large fin out of the water. I watched it closely. Didn’t look like a shark. I wasn’t too sure though. Maybe a whale because of the size.

Either way, my dog was in the water. I yelled for him to get out. He happily trots over my way.

Then the helicopter re-appears.

I put my dog on a leash and start to walk back to where we came from.

“I guess that’s all the time we have today buddy.”

We casually walk back. Then we get to that little spot we had to run through.

And this is where the panic started and I probably did not even realize.

“Oh shit… it’s all underwater. There is no way to walk through.”

“We for sure are not going waist deep through that even though we both can swim.”

“I don’t have a suit on. Nor do I want to walk in wet clothes back. Oh – and I also don’t want to find out up close what sea creature is right near there that I saw a few minutes ago.”

“Not worth it.” I thought.

So we walk in the other direction. I figured maybe we can just walk around and get back up to the PCH and get to the car. You know, cause there should be other beach access points.

Nope.

30 minutes goes by and we are STILL walking. The houses are getting higher and higher up the cliff and the water is now starting to rise here too….. We start to run.

“We are so fucked. We are so fucked. We are so fucked. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck…..”

I was literally repeating that the entire time while jogging.

Then I was thinking of all the possible escape routes and scenarios.

“I mean I guess we could go back and climb the rocks and then walk through a few beach house backyards? But there are like 10 of them.”

Someone would surely say something.

Scratch that idea. Keep walking.

More times goes by and the shore is maybe 4-8 feet wide in certain areas. Our jog becomes a frantic run.

And then I see PEOPLE! I saw some Asian folks fishing and then a family walking by in my direction.

I asked them for help. Said I spent too long on the beach and the shore is gone behind me. I need to get back up to the PCH. Is there maybe an access point I can get up on?

They told me to keep walking the way I was going. Once I saw the big mansion with columns to take a right. There are stairs there that get you up to the street.

“PHEW!” I thought. Okay.

As I walked near there, my heart rate was coming down. Only to spike again because the wooden stairs I’m sure they were talking about on the cliff were covered in water.

DAMN IT!

I go back again and look up each stairway. Most had doors on them either at the bottom or top.

There were workers at one. I thought worse case, I could ask them for help.

Then I passed by one that seemed promising. We run up the stairs. It was something roughly 100 steps or more. These mansions were hovering over the water.

No time to appreciate them. I was worried about the time because I had work at 6 and I knew the walk back to the car would be at least another hour.

So we get to the top of the stairs winded. And as I suspected – but hoped not – there was a gate, and there was a lock.

Damn rich people obviously don’t want anyone using their private beach accesses. But you know what, I gotta get out.

So that’s what I did. The wrought iron fence wasn’t too tall and did not have stakes at the top luckily. I jump over and tell my dog to do it too. There was some left over bricks stacked up near one side of the fence that I used to get over. I thought he would figure it out and do it too.

Poor guy just stood there confused.

Like, “Mom – you idiot what are we doing? I’m panting and tired! You want me to jump that thing?! Yea right.”

So I climb back in, really hoping no one saw me.

Yeah this dumb blonde chick pushing her 65 pound dog over a fence of some millionaire’s home. Perfectly normal.

But dude!! I WAS TRAPPED ON THE BEACH!

Needless to say we made it over. Climbed up another dirt mound to get to the PCH. Then we walked a few miles back to the car.

Well, guess we got a killer workout in. My anxiety and stress still high. Which took a serious toll on my body. I was so tense. I hate being tense.

Crazy to think we casually were hanging out at the beach and this happened.

Midway through my drive back home, I already knew I lost my weed pen during the jog on the beach. Bummer but not the end of the world. I can easily get another.

What really threw me off was where the heck my wallet was?!

DID I LOOSE THAT TOO? FUCK!

And just as anyone knows…. loosing your wallet sucks. It’s not a fun process. All together just was the cherry on top to my day. Luckily I had enough gas in my car to get to work and luckily Wells Fargo will let you take out cash without your credit or debit card. So I wasn’t totally skewed.

The sad part though was that I had a few licensees from previous states I had lived in. They were so sentimental to me! I was getting more bummed by the minute. Hoping that my wallet maybe would wash up on the beach or someone would turn it in to the bank or try mailing it to the drivers license address.

Either way. I went into work exhausted and sad I lost my wallet. Told a few friends about it. One agreed to maybe to a search and rescue the following day. Just walk along the beach and see if maybe we could find it.

I get off work and call my buddy to explain how I lost my wallet. He too was getting off work.

Eventually I ended up saying that it was still early on a Saturday and I wanted to hang out and get my mind off things.

He agreed and met me at my place.

When he arrived I told him my story. His reaction was a combination of somewhat impressed and also amused.

In response he said we should get Dennys. I agreed and told him I would pay him back.

As we left the house, I muttered under my breath for the millionth time that day, “I can’t believe I lost my wallet. I looked all over my car too.”

I opened up my car and hopelessly looked again. My friend took a peek too.

Within a minute, I don’t even remember what smart ass comment he made but I whip around the other side of the car and there it is! He was holding it up in the air.

The relief!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not only was I spared from having to call and update my credit card information at numerous places like my phone provider, storage unit, car insurance, google music and more – I also had my sentimental licenses. Maybe it’s silly but I wanted them for memory sake!

Needless to say I was relieved.

We went to Dennys afterwards.

And all I could say was, “What a day!”

You know, the internet is something. I wonder what I want to share.

Do I even want to share everything? I don’t think we should.

I have so many great things I have written in the past but I’m scared someone will steal it and claim my work for their own. Same goes for my artwork.

In the inter webs you can really do a lot of great things too. I get it. Meet total strangers. Say hi to family over a phone screen via FaceTime or Skype. You can get instant messages almost immediately. You can sell stuff and buy stuff online. Get your brand promoted. Start a business. Anything. Sky is the limit.

But all of that sometimes freaks me out. Because the internet makes people become prey sometimes. And some people don’t get it.

I originally wanted to start writing this one on how the internet effects people and how much I hate it. However, my mind has gone in a total different direction. I guess that’s how these blogs go. Just write — and see what happens.

Being vulnerable is fine. I think it’s really beautiful at times.

On the flip side, being stupid, naive, and vulnerable is an immediate wrong move.

So as you know, I recently moved to the west coast. It’s about 6 months in. Which wow how half a year has already flown by is way beyond me. Totally over my head.

When I first moved here I met this guy through a catering job I got. Very nice guy but overall I could tell he was OCD and a little neurotic. He wanted to know so much about me. In much detail which was a little odd at times.

But like I said, I like giving people chances and I don’t like to totally judge.

That being said, my last experience hanging out with him was far from pleasant.

He is constantly late.

Let’s just say he blames it on his heritage and that in his culture people are always late. Which might be true – but you don’t have to fall into that category and put yourself in a box.

Anyway, we had planned one day to go surf together!

And yes of course, the selfish person in me will not pass up the opportunity to go surf if someone is offering to borrow their second board.

For the record, I am a social creature so yes, I also wanted to hang out with this person too. I’m not really a moocher. I just admit specific tenancies when I see them both in myself and in others. Not everyone likes that. Yet that’s something I don’t wish to change about myself. I’m going to tell you how it is eventually. Or you’ll figure it out one way or the other.

Anyway. So this guy is over an hour late to come pick me up. When he arrives, he is frantic…… and panicking….. and frustrated….. that he is late.

No biggie. I’m use to it.

However, what was more part of my concern is that it’s daylight savings and he picked me up at 3:30 or so. The drive to the beach around this time with traffic would mean we would maybe get to the beach at the earliest 4pm. Which in term leaves us with an hour to surf. No fun! Plus you gotta wax your board and get in your wet suit. All that fun stuff.

I tried suggesting going the following day since we both were off, but he did not budge.

Wouldn’t even consider going the next day. And of course, with the few little arguments we have had – he has made it obvious to me that I tend to get things the way I want….all the time. My stubborn self was not about to get into another “you always get it your way” arguments.

Whatever. Off we go to the beach. Only to go into the ocean and come right back up because it was going to get too dark. Not to mention – with my super aware fear….. I mean….aware knowledge on sharks. I knew before dawn and after dusk is when the sharkies feed. And I am not going to be fish food.

No way I am surfing once the sun goes down.

Alright. We are on the road. I have my thermos with tea in it and my little weed pen. I hit it a few times so I’m not as irritated as I know I could get for agreeing to do this.

He looks at me funny. Oh well. Back to casual conversation between us.

Pause on the story.

Just as a foreshadowing, I could go into much detail about this person but he’s a 42 or 43 year old very fit Peruvian bartender who likes hippy dippy things and yoga. (You wouldn’t even tell he is in his 40s.) This guy also asks a million questions and re-iterates everything you have said. No worries. That’s cool. Most of the time he is overly nice. But he also has slight anger issues. Not cool.

And that day is where it really was obvious to me. On top of the controlling aspect and micromanaging aspect. So there you go.

Back to the story.

We get to the beach exactly as I assumed closer to 4pm. Maybe even 4:15. Sun is already on the decline. It gets pitch black by 5:30pm.

We get our wet suits on. Then start to wax the boards.

Now let me just say, I have not learned any specific method of waxing. In my opinion, as long as its a good enough layer and in the area you need it – you’re golden. I mean shoot. I did take a surf lesson 2 months ago and it didn’t seem like a huge deal.

On the other hand for this guy it was 60 times in one direction, then 62 diagonally one way, and then horizontally and vertically 78 times.

Kidding. That’s an exaggeration.

But literally!!!! We kept waxing and waxing over and over. And I’m just thinking over here, “Okay dude, lets just keep wasting sunlight.” So at one point without me even saying anything he grabs the cube out of my hands and just does it himself as if I am not competent enough to do this simple task.

Whatever. I went to go comfort the dog sitting in the back of a F-150 truck next to us. Poor buddy kept barking and crying because his family was out surfing. I’m sure he was worried.

Eventually we finally get in. I don’t think I even caught any waves worth remembering. Few small things. Not much push to them.

But I’ll tell you what. My theory was right. The more you surf the more you’re not really thinking about the sharks and such. Maybe I also wasn’t thinking about it because finally after all the irritating things I was in the water. And the smoking helps. It alwaysssss helps.

So it’s starting to get dark. I get out. I’m not playing these games. Because by nature it is true, as paranoid as I am about the sharks. They do feed at night for whatever reason.

I get out. He gets out. We go to the car. I take my wet suit off.

And I guess the way I took it off made this man go buzzurk. I pulled it off and then started stepping on the pant leg that was free so I could get my other leg out. Kind of how you do with skinny jeans sometimes.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU’RE GETTING SAND ALL OVER YOUR WET SUIT!!” He said quite upset.

I shrugged. Laughed and said, “Bro it’s okay. I’ll wash it when I get home.”

I also then thought that maybe he was worried there was sand on the suit and he didn’t want sand in his car. Which is dumb because no matter how careful you are at the beach…. you are going to get sand in your car.

So my follow up comment was, “Don’t worry, I won’t get sand in your car. I will shake the suit off and wrap it in a towel or something.”

Then I get dressed and pat my feet down from the sand. He insists I pour water over them.

“No thanks.” I said.

He went buzurk there too. Insisting that I do that and that most “normal” people wash their feet from sand.

Sure. But the sand can also dry on you and then you just brush it off with your hands. Easy as can be. Not something I’m worried about.

But no, he kept telling me I should do it. And again, because I thought he was worried about the sand in his car, I just rolled my eyes and did it.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” He yells.

Oh, God….what now, I’m thinking.

“Your flip flops are going to be wet now. Just stop. Look. Look at me. Watch how I clean my feet.”

“Are you seriously teaching me how to wash my damn feet? I didn’t even want to pour water on my feet. But it’s fine, my flip flops will dry. They don’t stay wet for long.”

I can’t believe we are EVEN having this conversation right now. This is so dumb.

We get in the car an are both kinda ticked. I offer that we should go get food. He agrees.

For whatever reason he wanted to just drive around Main Street. Ok fine but hungry over here.

Eventually we stop and get tacos.

Then decide to walk around.

Eventually we start walking in a strange direction. Maybe not strange. Just an area where I know there was nothing else there. We get to a mini mart and he goes inside. At first I thought he wanted to get a beer or something from there because he mentioned he wanted a drink. Also I get the impression that he does tend to drink more than just socially.

But no, he goes inside because he had been complaining all day that he could not find his pack of cigarettes. He even was looking for cigarette roaches in his car!!! GROSS. People do that with pot, but cigarettes?! So addicted.

At this point I’m pissed because I hate when people are around me smoking those cancer sticks. Especially after my mother died a year ago from cancer.

I usually am successful to get anyone who comes in contact with me to quit smoking cigarettes.

So as he is in line to get to the register. I stand in front of him with my arms crossed.

“I’m just warning you. I will make scene. Do NOT buy these while you are with me. If you choose to smoke outside of hanging out, that is your business I do not need to know about. But right now, I highly recommend you don’t buy these.”

What does he do? Proceeds to buy them.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

He starts shaking and smacking the pack of cigarettes to his palm.

“YOU ARE BASICALLY GIVING ME A BIG ‘FUCK YOU’ RIGHT NOW”

“No I’m not, chill out. Let’s go. I just needed one.”

“NO YOU DO NOT NEED ONE. YOU ARE SO RUDE FOR DOING THIS.”

Then he flips out asking why and being oblivious when I already told him why. The guy proceeds to walk next to me and lights up a cigarette.

“NO DUDE. You need to stay at LEAST 100 yards away from me.”

He ignores me.

I start yelling at him downtown in the street and pointing to stay back as I walk faster ahead.

“GET THE FUCK BACK. 100 YARDS. GO. YOU DISRESPECTFUL ASSHOLE. YEAH, GO SMOKE YOUR CANCER STICK. I DON’T WANT THAT STUFF NEAR ME.”

He laughs at me and seems shocked that this wasn’t going to be a bluff.

If I warn you, I will make a scene – I will bloody make a scene and don’t you test me. I love when men want to test me, dammit. Total sarcasm, but for real. Get out of here with that.

It ends up getting heated and eventually after re explaining 3 times that my mom died of cancer. She never smoked in her life. She did not deserve to have cancer. Yet there are people like this guy putting cancer into their bodies and his second hand smoke around me is not something I want to breathe in. Jerk.

Eventually he puts it out and gets it.

Was a cigarette worth all that? I never even bothered asking him. But I don’t know if I would want to hear the latter of the answer — or else the whole fiasco would start all over again.

Jesus.

Ok, so we get to a bar. I personally do not want to drink. I’m not a heavy drinker anyway. Today though, I did not even want an ounce of liquor. None.

I will say that the bar we chose to go to was this really neat Tiki Bar with old school memorabilia. They even had a cool 80’s french movie on with guys on dirt bikes competing or something.

He goes to the bar and gets himself a drink while I sit at a corner. The bar is very busy for whatever week day it was. I wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was. But I worked most weekends. So I knew it was a weekday.

He comes back with a Mai Tai. Sips it.

We have decent casual conversation. I’m a little quiet because I am tired. He tells me to try his drink. I kindly decline. And he looks at me strange and says, “What kind of bartender are you to not try a drink and critique it.”

“I just don’t want any. Thanks.”

“A sip won’t kill you.”

Jesus… here we go again. Why is everything such a struggle?

I sip it. I tell him it’s okay.

His eyes widen.

“This is a really good Mai Tai! It is professionally made. It is so great…. It…. It…. It….”

Oh god. He is about to explode again over something so little.

I am so over this.

“Well hurry and finish your drink. I’m ready to go and don’t want to stare at you drinking it.”

We leave.

He insists we go for another walk. At this point. I am tired. My knee is really hurting and I want to go home to my dog. He needs to get let out and I would rather spend company with him right now.

We walk.

He see’s a street he wants to walk down, away from the car.

“No dude. My knee is really bugging me.”

He doesn’t listen and says, “I just want to see something.”

Proceeds to walk further. I follow.

Then my knee just says, I’m done.

I start limping. I cannot put weight on my leg.

“DUDE CAN WE GO? I AM STRUGGLING OVER HERE.”

He looks at me all confused how this came out of nowhere. But it didn’t. My knee had been bugging me all day. I just never say anything until it gets too late. So I’m sure he thinks I’m bluffing. Again, guys do not take me seriously sometimes and it get’s really annoying. This is why I am bossy as hell and maybe I do get things the way I want – most times.

Finally I sit down in the car. We are on the road home.

All of a sudden the car starts making this rattling or shaking noise.

Something is wrong with the tire. It’s not blown but something is wrong.

He says, “Oh it’s been happening for a while. It’s cool.”

I then begin to tell him my story of how one of my girlfriends and I were driving and her tire did that for a while. Then one day we were on the highway going 80mph. It popped! How we did not crash and die is a miracle. It was her rear tire. So she had some control to pull over on the median. Had it been the front tire we would have been in serious trouble.

I kept asking him to pull over and he brushed it off like no big deal.

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s not, lets at least look!”

“It’s fine.”

“DUDE. It will take us two minutes to pull over.”

“I’ll check it when I get home.”

“Well slow down then and put your hazards on!”

“Dude it’s fine. Why are you freaking out?”

“I JUST TOLD YOU MY STORY! AND YOUR FUCKING SURFBOARD IS PUSHING AGAINST THE AIRBAG DEPLOYMENT IN FRONT OF ME. IF WE WRECK. I AM DEAD. CAN WE PULL OVER NOW?”

“Oh, shit okay. I didn’t know you were that uncomfortable.”

In my head I was so ticked again. If someone is acting uncomfortable and asks you to pull over. You don’t second guess it. You pull over.

He did, He had a nail in one tire and the other was low. It also looked slightly cambered which made me think something is wrong with an axle.

I start tightening the lugs for him and I think the male macho brain kicked in and he snatches the thing from me. Says he can handle his own car.

Well clearly not if this issue has been going on for a while and you are neglecting the matter.

Eventually I was brought home in one piece and spent the rest of the night with my dog. Pretty typical.

After this experience and obviously a few others leading up to this, he was texting me and I noticed the questions became more blunt.

“Did you hang out with your friend?”

“Where are you looking for apartments?”

“How are you going about doing this?”

“Can you explain?”

More detail. More detail. More detail. I need more detail.

And then eventually he asked what I was doing one weekend. I told him I was working cause alongside my 9-5 Monday through Friday day job, I got a night one too working at a really good and really busy bar where I can make a lot while not having to make obnoxious craft cocktails and pound those out.

I got into that bar. The one every bartender low key really wants to work at. Where people just go and get shitfaced and don’t totally care what they’re drinking and if you had made it perfectly to their liking. Cause it’s more effort yelling over the DJ to get a new one than just to down it and move on so the next person in line can get their vice on.

So he asked me if I was working for the same catering company I met him through. I said no. He proceeded to ask where I was working then.

I guess I could of lied.

Instead I just let it out. I told him that I did not have to tell him everything. And actually, which this is true, I have not told anyone what bar I’m working at.

If this was my hometown I learned to bartend at, I probably would have told anyone where I worked. Why? Because I had family over there and close friends. Plus I was tight with my co workers. If anything happened, there are a lot of eyes.

Here however, I was just starting at this bar. I have no family and no friends here really.

Myself being a female — I am not about to tell anyone, especially a male, where I work at late at night.

You know why?

Because then I end up being the next gal on 60 minutes as a missing person or a girl that got raped and left in a ditch.

Who knows!? Some guy could wait for me to get off at 2 or 3 am and wait in his car only to kill me or something. NO THANKS! I just don’t want to put myself in those types of potential situations. Give our friendship a while until I choose to invite you to visit me at the bar.

We don’t have to tell people everything.

Everyone does not need to know all the details. Be vague. If you choose to explain and exploit something, then it is under your doing.

Lately I like to be careful with what I share. Not only silly locations and such.

But my feelings too. The irony, huh? I’m blogging about them though.

But I am choosing to put this out there.

And I am choosing to stay anonymous. As this isn’t my real name and I’m not using any people’s names either.

Just telling stories. That one day maybe I can go back and read. To think “Hey! That was a cool time. Or Hey! I can’t believe I felt that way.”

I think as adults we forget about our younger selves.

And I always want my younger self to somehow have a connection to my older self.

I am proud of my thirteen year old self. Meanwhile when I was thirteen there was no way I liked myself then.

These memoirs or whatever you choose to call them are just a little blast from the past for my future self to indulge in.

Like looking at old photos.

So anyway. Privacy is important. In all aspects. Choose to open up to those who deserve it. And choose wisely.

I learned that with the death of my mother more than anything. And also through this Peruvian gentleman.

I repeat. Not everyone needs to know everything about you.

Every time someone asks about my moms death. I use to think I needed to explain so it would help with the coping process.

But I haven’t quite figured out how to make it work.

All I know is my mother would have not wanted people to know her as the lady who died of cancer. A horrible death. Crippled, weak, and ugly.

My mom was such a beautiful person and she deserves a blurb of hers all on her own. I’ll probably write about her a lot more. Hopefully more of the good rather than bad. Because the last few years are scorched in my memory. And it’s tough.

But that doesn’t mean when people ask, I should go in great detail of how painful and gruesome her last days were.

That is something I’m learning to answer differently now.

And whenever someone asks me something I don’t feel like answering — my advice, don’t say it. Politely decline. Maybe it will be a story for another day. I think people need to earn your trust and respect. People need to earn to hear something in great detail. Otherwise your vulnerability is in poor taste.

Be vulnerable to what makes you, you.

Do not be vulnerable to the vultures that want to figure you out and know more than they need if they are only going to feed on you temporarily, then disappear after a while.

It get’s exhausting sharing very personal stories.

It get’s exhausting letting someone know all of you, with none of them.

It get’s exhausting pouring your heart out for people to just dispose of you as a friend so easily.

And yes, it’s the society we live in. Internet doesnt help with exposing every part of your life out there.

So my response, just don’t.

Anonymity can be really attractive too. More than anything it gives you a piece of mind – and in my case, a really good reason to write.

Since moving here I can’t say I have had too many crazy memorable nights. They have been somewhat static while I am getting use to things. You know, being an adult, getting a steady job and my own pad.

But I figure why not re-live a few of those small memories in the meantime.

One of my first unique experiences here in California was on my own actually. Which I figured I would be flying solo for a while – but to my surprise it didn’t last long.

I don’t know why, but I do not credit myself for how social I am. It’s as if I want to be introverted, but I end up being extroverted somehow?

As I prepared for this new life across the country, airbnb has this thing where you can go to a column listed as “experiences” and you can do a number of neat things like pottery classes, haunted tour guides, brewery tours, etc… you get the idea. Coincidentally airbnb recommended something for me.

The ad said, “Come learn to surf in beautiful Santa Barbara with Mitch!”

Beneath the title, was a picture of a goofy 40 something year old guy with long blonde hair and a smirk on his face. He even wore the awkward rectangle Oakley glasses that no guy actually looks good in. Not sure why guys choose those monstrosities to put on their face. But oh well, not a deal breaker or anything. Just silly.

As I scrolled down and read more into the ad, the surf lesson turned out to be only 40 bucks! The duration of which would last 4 hours. A wet suit and surfboard would be provided.

YES! Why wouldn’t I do it? Of course I like a good deal just like anyone else when they see one. But I also knew this would be good for me. To get out and do a surf class. Meet strangers. Do something fun before I got a job out here. Just really see how I would do on my own. Maybe a personal test or something I subconsciously wanted to put myself through.

So I booked it.

My credit card however, was probably crying bloody tears considering how expensive I knew this cross country road trip would be. But I knew I just had to do it. I knew that after a month of getting somewhat settled in to my new life. I would need to socialize!!! Of course.

A month exactly goes by and I wake up 7:30 AM to take the roughly 45 minute to an hour drive up to Santa Barbara.

My idiot self was really excited but I remember the night before reading all sorts of shark attack statistics. And a few days prior watching shark week. So you bet, I was checking, double, and triple, checking to see how likely i might die doing this……

I shot him a text the night before and asked if he has been in contact with any sharks ever. His response? “I eat sharks for breakfast.”

Thanks bro.

When I get to this guy’s place, I thought it would be like a shop or something but Mitch ran this out of his apartment. It was pretty cute. Terra Cotta typical Santa Barbara feel with teal colored doors and stucco everything else. I digged it. Made me feel like I was in Spain or something.

Anyway, next thing I know is we are trying on wet suits and Mitch casually says, “Hey, anyone want to hit this?” We being offered to smoke the green goodness.

This was already becoming an interesting day.

Being a major pothead most of my life – I had to reflect and think how cool it was to be in a state where it is legal. And nobody is going to judge you!!!

I told him I would wait a bit since it was pretty early at 9am to be baked already. I dunno. I smoked a lot, don’t get me wrong – but was never a “wake and bake” person.

Only one other person had signed up for the class. Turns out its this guy from the Netherlands. Sweet guy. Friendly. Small accent. He was visiting with a group of his best guy friends on a major US cross country trip!

My first thought was “Wow! how cool is that. Someone from outside of the states doing a road trip here in America? I just did that myself a month ago! Crazy how many people want to see this country.”

Later on I found out his buddies didn’t care to surf. So they all went their separate ways for the day. And he ended up here.

All of a sudden Mitch after running back and forth from his front door – in a theatrical tone shouts “AND OFFFFFFF, WEEEEE GO!”

I think he then proceeded to sing some song and skip down the hall. We all have a surfboard in hand and walk down to his car to strap our boards.

Mitch was an interesting guy. I could already tell. And more than anything I accepted him for who he was. Which is a great feeling when you can kind of be amused and observing but without judgement really. This trip spending a lot of time solo has led me to believe that I am not really a judgmental person. I wanted to give him a chance. Maybe we could be friends after this. He seemed like a 12 year old, trapped in a 40 year old’s body.

I guess normal is subjective. We are all weird in our own ways. Mitch especially – but certainly a character I wish everyone has the opportunity to meet at least once in their lives….and who knows maybe be-friend them.

However, fast forward a few months later: He and I would have probably been better friends had he not texted me in the middle of the night one night saying he is tripping on molly…. or acid…. or something… and he so casually sent me a… lets just say a really, really odd video.

I still feel awkward to this day asking him about it. I hoped he wouldn’t remember. Eventually we sorted things out.

After all, he did tremendously apologize in the morning. And I mean, there were a lot of ‘OH MY GODS’ and ‘I AM SO SORRY’ and ALL CAPS LOCK everything.

No biggie. Still kinda weird, bro.

Anyway, so we get into his car and start to drive.

This man drove without ever stomping the breaks unless at a stop light or sign. Every curb was full speed, every bump, everything. I don’t know how to explain it, but it felt like he was a kid driving a toy car.

And yes, he even made car noises as a fully grown adult. Beep Beep, Vroom, Braaaaammmp, Swish, Sccccuuuuuurrrrt. All of it.

You know I feared for my life slightly at times – but I let loose and told myself, if its time for me to die, I guess I’ll die. Not sure if that was the right choice – but I just really did not want to worry.

If I died, at least we were blasting AC/DC’s Back in Black and I have a cute boy from the Netherlands sitting in the car with us. I’m shotgun next to this crazy surfer hippy dude and whipping it brand new Chevy Colbalt or some Ford Focus looking thing. And you know what, for Christ’s sake, the fear could not outweigh the fact that I was going surfing ya’ll! And I was so excited.

Nahhhhh – life is good. Let the worries go away. And you know – the hyperactive worrier actually shut up this time. I grabbed the bowl Mitch was smoking from and just took the biggest hit.

Exhale and release.

This is where the adventure only begins. We are shortly notified by our instructor that he needs to get some “sugar”.

Immediately my mind thinks, ok – we are in Cali. Sugar? Like Booty call? or Sugar? Like cocaine? Is that even a term used to call cocaine?

So we pull up to a little sketchy mini mart by the beach. And I for sure think he is getting some hard drugs. Pretty ballsy for an instructor that can have reviews left on his site if anything went bad.

Only a few moments later, this guy comes out with a gallon of water and a Reeses bar?!

“Sugar?!” I said. “Yes, sugar – I’m low on energy.” he laughed. “I should have asked if you guys wanted anything!!” As he proceeded to offer the second Reeses cup and refill our water bottles.

Laughing to myself – I’m an idiot I thought. Oh well. What a palm to the face.

Next thing I know he had woofed the entire candy bar down so fast. It was immediately gone. And then shortly after we arrived to a location.

He asks us if we want to check the surf first from afar. And it made sense considering we had to take the boards on and off the car. It’s a long process and since the surf is so different everywhere at all times, Mitch kept re-iterating how important picking a good spot is.

So what do we do? We run. Mitch just starts sprinting!!! Mind you, he bolts for it barefoot cause he is just that much of a hippy and does not wear shoes normally I guess.

Meanwhile I can hardly keep up with these two guys over 6 feet tall. And little me, here I am, with my small 5’4 frame, just trying to keep up.

“WAIT FOR MEEEEE!!!” I yelled.

Out of breath we made it to the bridge near the highway. And we looked out onto the point. And it made sense. I now knew what a point break was! Awesome!

So as we are looking at the sea. Mitch is giving us a great quick explanation, a really great explanation at that, very detailed, very elaborate, only to go immediately run back mid sentence. He may of not even completed the thought…..

Jesus!

Okay! Time to hop in the car and find another place? No worries as I shrugged and laughed again to myself.

This is so crazy, and random, and fun. The most non traditional class I have ever taken!

Ok. Different spot it is, I suppose. He suggests we keep an eye out on the coast at all times as we drive south on the highway.

I don’t think he looked at the road at all. Just the coast.

“Nope. Not this one.” He says to himself.

“What about this one?” Nope. <insert explanation why>

“Any thoughts on this spot we are driving past?”

“Ehhhh. This one is okay, but does that look fun?” <points at baby waves>

Ok this one? Nah.

We kept hopping in and out of the car what felt like a hundered times. But I was stoned and it was realistically only like 4 times. He just wanted us to have an ideal spot to learn to surf. Seemed really nice.

Finally we get to a spot that seems good enough. Not too crazy, not too calm.

We wax up our boards. Zip up our suits and take nothing but the surfboards with us.

I too now was barefoot. Knowing I did not want anything I had to worry about or hold onto.

Once we got to the beach and the waves pushed into my feet, I immediately realized it had been years since I have swam in the Pacific ocean – needless to say it was very cold at first…as it always is. Eventually, the wet suit did it’s thing and I got use to the water. As I paddled out…… I’m fairly…. relaxed….. or so….

Who am I kidding!!!! No I was not! I was tense as could be!! My thought process was that I was wayyyy out in the ocean on a little surfboard. It’s pretty darn deep and I cannot see the bottom because the ocean is literally almost pitch black down there.

Anxiety was seeping in like the water seeping in my suit….

“OH GOD SOMETHING TOUCHED ME!” I screamed internally….not trying to panic.

I look over and it’s a floating cluster of seaweed.

Phew!

Moments later…..

OH GOD…. OH GOD…. what is that?!? What is below me? WHY DO I SEE A LARGE DARK SHAPE? IS THAT A SHARK? Please don’t be a shark.

Maybe it’s not a shark. Just keep paddling. <paddles with my fingertips just barely gracing the surface and my toes and feet are flush on the surfboard.>

None of my body is hanging off to the side. I am centered as can be on this thing. In hopes maybe I won’t be noticed. Maybe the shark will think I am just a piece of driftwood in the water.

I proceed to gently paddle. Trying to not think about the shark potentially beneath me.

I couldn’t help but look down. “OH MY GOD I SEE IT AGAIN!”

Question: HOW AM I NOT SCREAMING RIGHT NOW?

Answer: Because I am not totally sure if it is a shark yet and I don’t want to embarrass myself being a newbie on a surfboard.

Next thing I know, I hear Mitch chuckling and he pulls me over next to his surfboard.

“Get your arms in there girl. Scoop the water. Paddle. What are you so afraid of?”

Did he forget I texted him the night before asking, “Dear Mitchell – I am excited to join you tomorrow on this surf lesson – however, I wanted to ask you if you have had any shark encounters as a surfer. Please advise on how to act in such situations and under these circumstances. Yours truly, a hyper active worrier.”

“MITCH! SHARKS! I AM SCARED OF SHARKS, OKAY?” I nervously laugh and respond to his silly question that he probably already knew the answer to.

His response kind of blew me away. It wasn’t just the generic, oh don’t worry about it garbage.

He went into a whole philosophy on what it means to be a surfer. To truly live and implement that lifestyle to your everyday life.

Yes, he told me not to worry, but here is the “why” that my personality type craves and demands.

Why worry? It will ruin the moment obviously. It will ruin the day. Ruin so much that you don’t even realize. Plus you can’t always do something about what’s happening right then and there.

He proceeds to explain – Ok so what? …there’s a shark. This is their home. Their territory. But you also have a ton of other animals you are swimming with and do not even know about.

Ok so what? …there’s a shark. This is their home. Their territory. But you also have a ton of other animals you are swimming with and do not even know about.

So be centered on the board and upright. Be aware of your surroundings but do not be afraid. Fear is just a natural instinct that keeps us alive. Learn to manipulate it and control it.

Most importantly just learn to let go. Once you have all of this down and you truly let yourself go – it is such a release. Your soul from deep down inside thanks you. The anxiety of today’s world kind of hushes.

And it really does. God, letting go felt so great.

That day in Santa Barbara was an eye opener for me of what kind of person I was, and what kind of person I wanted to become.

The ocean teaches you a lot he said. It can really knock you down on your ass. Kind of like life.

All you can do is paddle. Keep swimming and time your wave right. Then enjoy the ride. After the ride is over. You paddle some more to enjoy the next ride.

Oh, and there is A LOT of waiting, as we do in life.

We wait and we work hard. But the result is oh so worth it. And sometimes when you catch the ride and it didn’t turn out as planned, you hold on and wish for the best. Or you get pummeled and you just hold your breath.

Let go!! Relax. Cause you can only do your best. At that point it’s just the wave doing it’s thing. And you are there in that moment not thinking about the sharks anymore. You are wondering when this strong current will stop rolling you upside down and in all sorts of directions.

Finally gasp for air. And it’s over. Get on the board and do it again. Hope to actually ride the wave this time.

And that’s what happened to me. That day when I got on my first baby wave and rode it for just a few seconds, then I fell.

I was totally submerged in the deep dark ocean, and I let go.

Sure, even today there is a small ounce of worry. But the more I get out into the ocean the more it goes away. If the wave kills me or a shark kills me, or a boat, a bacteria, whatever it is…… Man, so be it. I have lived a good life and I am really tired of worrying. I have worried my whole life.

And what I thought was a shark swimming beneath me, was just a bunch of massive rocks at the bottom of the ocean. Silly me.

Needless to say I was invited to join again for free, and the next few times we went surfing together, a school of dolphins were so close I could touch them. Beautiful and playful sea creatures. We had a solo sea lion playing around with us too one time. Bobbing his head in the water. Little soccer ball head with beady teddy bear eyes. Oh and those whiskers! Another playful little thing that made the waiting more exciting.

A lot of the ocean life is pretty friendly and curious. Just swimming. Doing the same thing we are. Just living. Going with the current. Having some fun.

My time in SB really was amazing. After few hours of surfing, In N Out or The Habit for a strawberry shake and a burger is the heavenly flavorful jet fuel one needs. Do it stoned or sober and go right back in the ocean to catch some more waves till the sun goes down. That is the life right there. Oh and especially the time my instructor blasted Disney’s Little Mermaid, “A Whole New World” through the drive through. Man, that guy cracks me up. The looks people give him – sometimes laughing at him, or with him. Or even scolding. He doesn’t care. He is totally himself. And I wish to care less of what people thought of me. I’m working on it. I try to get up to Santa Barbara as much as I can. Still need to get my own surfboard. I’m working on that too.

It’s all a work in progress.

The next wave is getting my own apartment out here, living life, bettering myself, meeting people and go surf and be connected with the ocean. The rest I hope will be the fun part. Until the next challenge arrives and I get to surf down it too, with immense accomplishment.

Who knows? Maybe this ride will be a little longer than most rides I’ve had.

Surfing taught me the following.

-Patience

-Being centered

-Being aware

-Planning ahead

-Using intuitive senses

-Letting go

-Discipline

-Reflection of self & much more…..

Thank you LIFE for giving me this eye opening experience. I think all weird things, and very-very weird things aside…. I will be re-visiting my strange friend, Mitchel.

Life is good weird. The ocean is good too.

My advice? Actively practice getting out of your comfort zone. And soon you will let go too.

Wow, what a horrible way to start my first blurb on WordPress.

But who cares? I guess we’ll see where this goes. It’s been years since I have had an outlet where I can express myself. That site no longer exists – well it does, kind of, but not for this country. Russia no longer allows Americans to access it – weird. Guess I gotta find my old site on the deep dark web one day.

Anyway, back on track. Today didn’t totally suck in it’s entirety. Just, life kinda sucks right now. My situation and all. Details to come eventually when I get into the groove of things – being vulnerable and all again.

Things just suck right now.

Holidays especially. It’s the most loneliest time of the year.

And I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. But in the moment, how can you not feel that way.

Loneliness is the single most depressing and saddest thing there is I think. I’ve got no siblings. No family. And pathetically, I sometimes feel like I don’t even have any friends.

Maybe that’s the depression talking.

And maybe that’s the hopeful voice in my head thinking it isn’t all quite that shitty.

Maybe it’s a blend of both.

Cause everyone who is depressed has a little glimmer of hope that things will pan out. And when that glimmer of hope dissipates – that’s when suicide knocks on your door.

Wow. Not the post I was hoping to write, but – I have a really shit attitude stirring around in the air right now, and this is what came out.

Going to bed now. I don’t feel any better. Maybe take two tomorrow.