Quality Locale

The first time I ever saw the beach, it was particularly striking. The dark and cold California sand that you couldn't walk normally in because it upset your balance, the way the sunset blanketed the horizon, the salty stench of the sandy breeze. The way that the waves crashed against the rocks and made distinct splashing noises.  The general consensus about this atmosphere is that it's majestic and beautiful.

It was terrible.

The wetness in the air, it was disgusting. Is this was they call “humidity” and how can I get out of this? All my life, I've never heard the end of the wonders of the beach. It's so fun, we'll have a great time! Wow!! The beach is the best!!!

Today, when people tell me that, all I can respond with is “I fucking hate the beach.”

I can vaguely understand the appeal for certain people. Maybe they enjoy the theoretical fun that the beach can offer. People go to the beach ready to enter the fun zone, but I am just not entirely sure where that fun comes from. I'd almost rather be in the savage environments from Heart of Darkness. At least the terror in that setting doesn't try to masquerade as a good time.


Now, living in Florida, not liking the beach is practically grounds for having your residency in this state revoked. So I'll just give in and go whenever asked. Then I step on a large shell and have a bleeding foot that hurts to walk on for a week. I'm thinking I'll take Africa from Heart of Darkness over this.

http://chasingsomewherenew.blogspot.com/

The Smallest One

I was 14 years old when we moved to Florida and left behind the person that I was the closest to. He was a year older than me and I never heard the last of it. At that age, anything you can possibly brag about was fair game. Despite this, I still revered him as both a friend and as somebody who taught me a little about how life works - not in a cliché manner, but instead I learned the importance of the little things.



The little things are what I remember the most.


Little things like hiding out at his house every Wednesday afternoon for an hour while my parents thought I was involved in extracurricular activities at school.


Little things like the way I would stroll by his house every day dragging our tiny dog on a walk.


Little things like the day we climbed the tallest tree (which wasn't that big because it's the desert) and felt a sense of pride.


Our adventures were relatively modest and tame, but I remember them anyway because they taught me the importance of savoring every moment.


Today, the things that my brain remembers the most aren't grandiose details or major events in life. I have a clearer picture of the day that we sat outside a laser tag place than the day that I graduated from high school.



Now that we are separated, I remember the little things instead.



http://chasingsomewherenew.blogspot.com