Monday, November 9, 2009

Moxie The Kid


When I was a kid I spent a lot of time playing by myself, or with my dog, Trixie. Growing up on the shores of Tamarack Lake was magical. I had endless woods to explore, fields to romp in and a huge lapping lake to fish out of, boat in and stare at. It was a small neighborhood, and while there were other kids to play with some of the time, I spent a lot of time by myself.

My happiest memories from my childhood involve me, my dog and watching the little boats I'd build bob on the water. I could stare for hours at the water, seeing how the light reflected off the tiny waves and tracking where the currents took my boats.
Sometimes I'd build forts, or make a neighborhood newspaper or set up a car wash - but for the most part I stuck to exploring nature by myself. I was happy.

Those early years I had an indomitable character. I knew exactly what I wanted. Then, I would go out and get it. I also knew exactly what I didn't want, or didn't want to do. And if anybody pressed me? Big resistance. I knew the exact line between right and wrong and though I made mistakes, I always tried to do the right thing. I remember the exact moment when I decided that I wanted to be an optimist. It was a conscious decision. One that I had stewed over for quite some time as I walked the woods around my house. Pessimism had it's advantages, ya know. All the sarcasm, pooh-poohing other people's ideas, never being disappointed because you were rooting for disappointment all along, being able to generally bitch and moan...
But, I chose optimism, because I saw it as the only real way to live. I really thought hard on that one though.
Those early years formed me into a very self assured optimist who knew exactly who and what she wanted to be. To put it simply? I had moxie.

Then, I went to school, then college, then to work. And suddenly? I was surrounded by people. All the time. When you are surrounded by people, you become defined by them.
Specifically, you become defined by their perceptions of you. You become familiar with what certain people associate you with, and you pretty much build on that every single time you meet or talk.
At work I was seen as determined, sometimes stubborn, aggressive, outspoken, yet extremely fair. Socially I was a butterfly, silly, outgoing and always up for anything that came my way.
When I left New York I would've defined myself as loyal, curious, adventurous and extremely outgoing.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the beach...

I got here and realized I had moved somewhere by myself. All by myself. Gulp.

There are no resumes for who you are as a person. There is no way to bring along to a new place what a good friend or roommate you were in the past.

Each person you meet, meets you completely anew. It was extremely humbling to me when I would be working in the taco stand and someone would treat me as if, well, I was a girl who worked in a taco stand. What else would they have treated me as? That was who I was now.

Or when I was living in the camper, and people would treat me as some weirdo living in a camper. They didn't know anything about my past, or that this was a totally weird situation to me as well. They took me in complete context of how they met me.

It's a small town here, and I think that with all my transitions and adventures no one really knows what the hell to make of me. Just who IS this girl?

Meanwhile this forced me to spend an inordinate amount of time by myself. Something I had not done since those very early days as a child. I have also had the magic of being near nature and having a dog. Those three things combined: singularity, nature, dog. Those three things have done something amazing.

I have redefined myself, or rather, I have re-found myself. What I thought had changed in me and my personality was just the smoke and mirrors of the perceptions of other people. I hadn't really changed at all, I had just adapted. But now I have reversed the evolution and gone back to plain and simple old ME.

It's a hard thing to be defined by your own perceptions. You really want people to like you. It's human nature to want to be accepted. But the gift in being happy completely when you are on your own is that you always have a place to go back to where you know you'll be happy.

Interactions are a bit different now. I am more assured and I'm not really that worried about disappointing someone or having them not like me, or get me, or want to talk to me again. To each his own. I have really great conversations with the horizon and some of my happiest moments with Dungee or surfing by myself. It's refreshing hanging out with me. We GET each other.

If there is any advice I can give to anyone who feels a bit discombobulated or confused or overwhelmed or misguided? Take some time. Take more time that that, actually. Take as much time as humanly possible and spend it by yourself.
Discover what you think, what you feel, what you love and how you want to spend your day and what makes you happy. You can only really discover yourself after you spend long and repeated sections of time all by your lonesome.
And sometimes it does get lonesome, and when this happens I reach out and try and meet new people. I guess if hunger is the best spice, then loneliness is an aphrodisiac. And I have met a few people that I truly treasure here. I can count them on half of one hand. And while it's hard not to be able to throw a party when the Steelers are on or have a ton of social engagements to keep you busy, it's been a blessing. I found my old best friend, Me, out here in California.
We get along like 1 pea in 1 pod.
And each day we discover something we forgot about ourself, and we have fun doing it.

Like tonight -I'm going to sit back and watch the Steelers beat the Broncos and think about the good ol' days, floating boats with my dog on Tamarack.


Friday, October 16, 2009

Life. Is. Swell.


My pumpkin is a self portrait.

For three days I have had the distinct pleasure of surfing a swell.
A swell that has spanned 3 days, but seems like a lifetime.
What appeared on my early morning Wednesday walk as a friendly pumping glass session,
turned into a gnarly overhead monster session,
into an inspired cruisy afternoon at San 'O

to a late morning dream left at Trap's to a sunset with friends,


I feel like myself.

I had more revelations, laughs, inspirations, creations, wipeouts, hand drags, drop-ins, duck dives, cutbacks, quasi-floaters, pelicans, and giggles than I ever thought possible.

I can't remember the last time I felt this light, happy and hopeful.

3 days of surfing and I'm a little kid and a happy woman at the same time.

I can't wait to lie in bed tonight and daydream about my own life. Lucky to have the life I have. Luckier still to have the ocean, the waves and the opportunity to express myself with the sheer joy and activity of surfing.

Life. Is. Swell.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

xoxo ??



When you are in a relationship, you have a lot to keep you warm at night. You have companionship, love, safety a certain amount of assuredness and you've got someone to snuggle with.

When you are single, what keeps you warm on certain nights is your friends, your family or your dog... but some nights, something else entirely is what keeps you warm. Single life is made up, instead of long embraces, short little blasts and flickers of electricity. Single life is sparks of opportunity, flashes of eyes and a quick beat when you see someone new who sees you the same way.

I needed some sparks.

I found myself last night saying "Man, I wish I had a secret admirer." And then I wondered, do people even DO that anymore? Is the secret admirer just a dead concept? 'Cause if so, colossal bummer! There is nothing quite like the secret admirer. Someone who just drops sparks your way in little notes, cards, messages, trinkets... It sounded so fun!

But, the sad thing about secret admirers is they are even trickier to find than boyfriends!

Hmmmm, but wait a second... Do you think the sparks work both ways? That the secret admirer may just get a few too?

So, today, I left my very first secret admirer note. In a tiny little card I scribbled, (I can't tell you guys, it's a secret!) and I left it under my tip for a very adorable gentleman with blue eyes and a nice smile, who always makes me smile back when I get a smoothie.


Tuesday, October 6, 2009

What if the Hokey Pokey IS what it's all about?




For those of you that read this blog frequently, what I have to say may sound familiar. The circumstances of my life may feel like de ja vu and there may even be a few of you who might say a little under your breath "didn't she already DO this before?"

But, that precisely, is the point. I have been exactly where I am at, and where I have been, more than a few times. And to be honest? I may just end up doing it all over again.

I've been noticing some patterns in my own life, wondering how it is that I came to live in someone else's house, crash on an airmattress for a few weeks, struggle to find an apartment and work... all. over. again.

I had some bleak moments. I had times when I was ready to pack it all up, turn myself away from the ocean, the dreams, the adventure and head straight back to my parent's house, where I could just take a BREAK from it all. But, people wouldn't let me. People, other than myself, stood in my way and said "Uh, UH. You are NOT giving up." And so, I stayed.

And now, it seems, that everything has worked out for the the best, as it always has. Dungee and I are right back in our old neighborhood. We're tucked away in a cute little beachy room and a nice comfy bungalow house (this time with some sweet roommates). It's like a complete repeat of last year, but with a few twists.

I will freely admit that I was both humbled and embarrassed by how much I needed help. I hate asking for help. I hate admitting I need it. It bothers me that at 32 I need it. Shouldn't I be buying a house? Building a 401K? Going to Vegas with my girls from college and drinking martinis? Shouldn't I be able to buy something from Crate & Barrel, actually from the store, not at a garage sale?

That is not the life I chose for myself, for good or bad. I chose a different sort of American dream. American dreams, typically, involve very linear paths. In fact, a reader of this blog, Mario once put it to me like this:

"You really need to get a grip on reality. These are the steps of finding a life.
1. Get educated - make friends
2. Get a career - make friends
3. Get a spouse - make friends
4. Have kids - make friends
Any extra time is for surfing. You got everything wrong. Pursuing crazy un-realistic dreams. You will be back to living off your parents very soon."

In a sense? He's right. This is what we are taught to do, how to shape our lives, how to know what we are doing is right. There is a path. There are goals. Little checks, ticks to mark and obtainable, understandable goals. It's what I thought I would do when I was a little kid. It's what I imagined when I was growing up.

However, somewhere, somehow, along the way, I decided that I would only do the very next step if I felt completely confident I had sucked the very last drop out of the steps before it.

Then, I did something even more radical. I decided to just throw out the entire damn timeline, ladder and checklist. So WHAT if I didn't ever do some things on that list? What if I didn't just climb straight up?

What if, instead of walking a straight line, I put my left foot in and checked the temperature of the water a bit?

What if I then took my left foot OUT if I didn't like it?

What if I walked a bit in the opposite direction and put my right foot in? And what if I had to take it out again?

I could dance to the west and put my left arm in, and if I fell on my face, I'd take it out.

I could skip around and put my right arm in, try something else. Take it out.

What if I chose to follow my crazy unbelievable unimaginable DREAMS and....
Put My Whole Self In And Shake It All About?

Ahhhhhh, NOW we are getting somewhere.

I have chosen a life that is not easy,
that is definitely scary,
in which I frequently repeat mistakes,
that in which I sometimes ask for help,
that while living it I never know what is going to happen along this crazy, windy road...

AND, I have chosen to dance the entire way,
not gracefully,
not dramatically,
but to the only song that seems to make sense to base your life upon,
The Hokey Pokey.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Pure Magic

Late Friday afternoon.
Right before sunset.
I paddled out with Johanna.
It was glassy.
The waves were fun.
The crowd was heavy.
The sky was cloudy.
It was Barney's.
I caught an amazing right all the way in.
Super glassy fun rides.
I found a side peak.
A set wave came.
I actually went for it.
I paddled.
I dropped in.
It was steeper than the rest.
I saw the wave getting ready to crumble ahead of me.
I crouched down.
I sped up.
I pulled past the crest.
The wave broke.
I drug my hand in the face.
I felt.
I felt...
the wave curl over my back.
Just a little.
Just enough.
Just a enough to let me know.
How it feels to get barreled.
Crashing behind you.
Spray on your legs.
Glass in front.
Judging your speed.
In the most perfect place in the world.
If I was addicted before?
There is no turning back now.
Still smiling.
Dreaming of the next one.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Surfdogs



I've been hearing about the Surf Dog Surf-a-thon since I moved here.
It's big news in these parts. I had my doubts about whether or not I should go. It would be crowded, covered in dog fur and sand, and really, how well could a DOG surf?

Well, friends, the decision to attend the 4th annual Surf Dog Surf-a-thon was one of the best I've made since living in California. It was pure, simple and uncontrollable fun.
I cannot even describe how hard I laughed and cheered.
My only regret? Is that Dungee wasn't out there. But, she did have fun digging a big hole with her friend Lucas... maybe next year.

Enjoy the madness.
Dogs surfing backwards.
A mutt snaking a St. Bernard.
A bulldog that has more paparazzi than Kelly Slater.
Irish setters taking some killer lefts.
But, my favorite part has to be the chihuahua on the pink board at the end of the video. I swear it got barreled for a second. That dog went for it.


video

Friday, September 11, 2009

Swami says "I heart New York!"

Every September 11th I specifically put aside time to think, pray, watch, remember and relive the events of that fateful day. I know that I can't pretend it's any other day and I don't want to.
So, instead, I fully immerse and embrace all the emotions that swirl inside me...

Today, I started off with a long walk along Swami's, balancing and praying for peace and love for every aching heart. I cried along the beach as I walked.

I got home and watched some 9/11 tribute videos online, cried some more and then stopped myself.

I decided to go surfing. But this time, with a twist.

As I paddled out to a small crowd at Swami's, I knew the hoard had no idea what was about to happen... I paddled right out to the peak (something I rarely do, I normally stick to the outside and try and swing some cast-offs. I'm kinda shy in the water).

But, today? Today was different! I was not surfing for me...

The first wave came and I let a name pop into my head "Tommy!" and then as I took off I said aloud "from Tower 1!" and rode it all the way in.

I paddled back out and another wave came straight at me before I had a chance to catch my breath "Frank!" as I caught the nice fat one "From Tower Two!"

With each paddle out, I caught some stares from the crowd. Just who was this girl who came into a full line-up and started to catch all the waves? And trust me on this one, it wasn't very epic out there, but somehow, I was scoring!

"Caroline from Tower 2!" It took me 3 tries to catch Caroline one, maybe she was the third child?
"Stefan from Tower 1!" This one was a mushy little right...
"Patrick from Tower 1!" A fast left! Maybe he was lefthanded?...
"Stefan from Tower 2!" A small insider that I took until it petered out...
"Howard from Tower 1!" The largest wave of the day caught me unaware and trashed me on the inside...
Now there was a paddle boarder beside me, but he wasn't going to catch this wave, I was catching THIS one for "Father O'Connor!" and boy, was it a nice ride, all the way to the beach.

Each name I pulled from newsreels (or from the air), and I threw in the mention of a Tower with no recollection or knowledge if they did or did not work there. But with each wave I caught in their memory, I felt as if I was giving them a tribute and a nod. I felt that if those people that died in those towers had the chance, they'd prefer to be alive today.
Wouldn't they all rather be splashing around in the Pacific if they had the choice?
Maybe some of those people were surfers.

So, today, on September 11th, I caught some waves in honor of those who died.
Hoping that if there were surfers in those towers, they somehow, somewhere, felt a girl, 8 years later and a whole country span apart, catching some waves for them, with joy, glee, hope and respect.