Beach Houses

I had a strong desire to take a walk tonight, to be alone for a while, to enjoy the brisk air, and to get lost in thought. So I threw on a pair of baggy sweatpants and an extra large Texas Longhorn's sweatshirt and left my house through the back door.

As I walked along the quiet board walk taking in all the smells, sights, and sounds of summer I was brought back to four weeks from four separate, yet unforgettable, summers.

These four weeks are significant on their own but hold so much in common. Four weeks spent at a beach house in Newport Beach. Four weeks with 6 kids to one bedroom (and one where we slept on the floor in the living room). Four weeks spent with my second family and my parents best friends. Four weeks of laughter, tears, arguments, and memories.

The smell of bonfires, sea salt, cigars, and sunscreen...

The sight of four girls standing on a cement wall, the sun setting behind the clouds, people riding by on bikes, and young boys running after screaming girls...

The sounds of waves crashing, middle aged men slurring their words, children laughing, and music blaring from beach front houses...

...brought me back to...

1. The summer Amanda and I had a theme for every day of the week, where I was saved by not only 1 but 2 lifeguards for reasons unclear to me, where we shopped for jr. high school uniforms at fashion valley, acted like bums on the boardwalk, and consumed ravens revenge like cocaine addicts.

2. The summer we settled for a 2 room condo for 10 people, where my sister froze all my underwear, Amanda gave everyone a nickname, and my dad explained the history of the F word to me on our way to get coffee.

3. The summer that I was kissed for the first time by the boy who would later say "I love you, Taylor" while lying next to me on my driveway the night after I had my wisdom teeth pulled, and fell asleep holding his hand while watching Night at the Roxbury.

4. The last summer... the summer we called it quits. The summer our families grew apart and retired our tradition. The summer I have a hard time remembering.

I rounded the parking lot down by the jetty with a smile on my face staring at the families making s'mores, playing volleyball, and packing up for the night. I thought about my own family and how different our summers are now. My sister is reveling in new found freedom, one brother is off in the bay area, while the other is still living at home, and my parents hardly have a summer at all.

I am, well... I am reliving those four summers but without the 9 people who made them complete. I am reliving those four summers with different people who make this summer complete in an entirely new way.

There is love, hours spent at the beach, movies watched, games played, alcohol consumed, and memories made but on an entirely different level.

Those four summers are no better or worse than this summer, they are simply different.

I hadn't missed home until tonight. And although I miss home, my family, and those summers, I am glad I have the present to remind me of the past.

Balboa Park

It's all becoming so normal... spending my days at work with 36 children under the age of 8 and my nights surrounded by men and women no younger than 65. It's wonderful really, absolutely wonderful.

I'm beginning to see how innocent and charming the very young and the very old truly are. Neither are self conscious, aware of their surroundings, or phased by their appearances. They just simply ARE. They are alive. They are happy. They are in the moment. They do what they want and exactly what they feel. They are passionate and loving.

From hugs to handshakes, from jumping to dancing, from tears to smiles... The very young and the very old intrigue me beyond belief every single day.

But today, today was especially wonderful.

Alleeza colored a Disney Princess picture last night and gave it to me today.

Kloe wrapped her arms around my neck countless times and refused to let go.

Nino ran around me in circles giggling.

And Daniella held my hand every chance she got.

Luke remembered my name.

Alex finally let me help her flip upside down.

Addy wanted me hold her.

And Elle asked in excitement "We get to be with you today?!"

But more wonderful than these moments was a particular couple dressed head to toe in matching outfits - matching hats, shirts, pants, shoes, belts, watches, superman buttons, and members only jackets. The two danced under the sun to Neil Diamond songs performed by a less than average cover band preforming in Balboa Park.

Initially my attention was drawn to a hobo dancing wildly by himself who unknowingly was causing all the children in the audience to point and laugh. I, too, was thoroughly entertained and even videotaped him for a good 30 seconds before I saw this couple. At first I giggled and wondered where they had been that called for matching outfits, but then I was fascinated. Love was clearly emanating from this duo. They were all smiles and danced slowly, only stopping when a song ended, but started right back up once the next one began. I watched them for an hour. Smiling to myself and taking picture after picture after picture.

They are absolutely beautiful in their old age.

They are alive. They are happy. They are in the moment.

They are doing what they want and exactly what they feel.

I was so excited after watching these two that I went up and spoke to them after the concert. I giddily spurted out "Umm hi! I umm was watching you guys dance and I think you are the cutest thing ever! I just had to come and say hello!"

They both beamed at me and explained their love for dancing.

This couple attends outside concerts regularly just to dance. In fact, they don't really enjoy Neil Diamond at all but "thought they'd give it a try." They told me that they live to dance, specializing in Ballroom - especially Swing. She moved from Chicago when she was 13 and he from London at 16. They met at an outdoor roller rink in Los Angeles and have been dancing for over 30 years.

Before we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways he encouraged me to take up dancing and gave me the names the multiple places where I could take lessons as well as the times and dates of other free outdoor summer concert venues. (As we speak I am looking into both.)

I certainly hope I see him again next week when Cool Fever plays 50s, 60s, & 70s music Wednesday night in Balboa Park. And if not, then I will definitely look for then July 11th in La Jolla. :)

To being alive, happy, and in the moment...

Matching couple, you inspire me!

Summer

I am sitting on the sand at this very moment with my back up against the cement wall that separates the boardwalk from the beach as I look out at the ocean and wonder; wonder about everything and about anything. I've done so much thinking these last few weeks, so much reflecting and hoping and dreaming. I have often found myself restless and exhausted by what goes on in my head. I come to conclusions about people, about situations, and about philosophies only to be unsatisfied and try again.

It isn't that I am unsatisfied with where I am, with what I have, or with who I am becoming; in fact, I couldn't be happier or more grateful than I am this very summer. It's simple really, I am just too analytical and emotional for my own good. I have an overwhelming desire to understand everyone and everything; an intense curiosity that often times doesn't lead me in to the greatest of places.

I've never been one to embrace the moment. I live too much in the past and constantly fear the future. I've been told time and time again not to think so hard, to let go and let God, to try not to manipulate the future, or think of ways the past could have been different. I speak often of a reality that I've created and prefer to live in because I am all too aware that my analytical nature has negated my free-spiritedness. Perhaps the one thing that frustrates me more than social injustices is that fact that I have allowed myself to stray away from the part of me that I have always been most proud of - being a free spirit.

Because my roommates were not around the last three weeks I had an uncomfortable amount of time to myself. I read constantly, took long walks at sunset, enjoyed the summer sun, and reflected on this past year. And in the midst of all of this I realized how much I am unable to recall. For the life of my I cannot figure out when/where/how Kara and I became so close and what we bonded over. I remember slaving over essay after essay but have no idea what I wrote about. I laughed uncontrollably every morning in ethics but don't remember what was so funny. And sadly, I have no idea how I spent my christmas break...

Basically I haven't allowed myself to focus on each day as it comes. I have been so caught up in thinking about how past situations could have gone differently and in fearing the future that I have failed to take advantage of new experiences; experiences that I wish I could remember.

So I decided to challenge myself in more ways than one this summer:

1. Make my way through the top 100 novels of the 20th century. (I got a library card and checked out Hemmingway)

2. Take advantage of everything free in San Diego. Starting tomorrow with the Summer Organ Festival in Balboa Park.

3. Laugh at everything embarrassing, awkward, or intimidating.

4. Do spontaneous and out of the ordinary things like order a 22oz mug of beer at PB Ale House and watch the Lakers game. (I don't drink beer or watch sports - this also gave me the change to laugh at an entirely mortifying experience).

And lastly....

5. Be present.

I want more than anything to use this summer for everything that its worth. To remember it not only as my first summer as an independent but one in which I truly embraced every moment and every opportunity that came my way.

Terry Josephson once stated "No matter where you go or what you do, you live your entire life within the confines of your head." Starting now, Terry Josephson's words will no longer describe me. I will be a free spirit. I will embrace my freedom.

Street Sense

This morning I woke up, showered, poured myself a cup of steaming coffee and settled down with Enduring Love (the less than romantic novel I am currently obsessing over).

But as I sat at my table staring out the window at everyone walking, driving, and hurrying down Misison Blvd I decided to trade in Enduring Love for StreetSense (a website my aunt introduced me to a week or so back that I had yet to explore).

It may not seem too shocking that I gave up a novel for news; fiction for reality, but if you know me half as well as I know myself (which really isn't that well) than you are perfectly aware of the fact that I live my life as if it were a movie. I am constantly in an alternate reality. One that is more blissful and perfect than the one I have been uncontrollably grounded in, where I pass my days pretending I am Audrey Hepburn starring in a black and white romantic comedy. This is exactly why I am currently nose deep in a work of fiction by an english writer who explores love and faith through suspense and tragedy hoping for a powerful, strong, and happy ending.

Perhaps it was the sundry population traveling by my window... the Caucasian couple riding their bikes, a group of Hispanic women exiting a cleaning service van, the Asian woman who lives above me, or the African America dad with his son, that caused this transfer of my attention from fiction to reality. Or perhaps it was just me coming to terms with the fortune surrounding me - living in a house on the beach, listening to pandora on my mac, making coffee and deciding what to eat for breakfast, a warm shower, a solid 8 hours of sleep...

Whatever the reason, I began exploring this particular website that advocates for the issues of poverty and homelessness (perhaps one of my biggest passions in my 21 year old life). I made my way through the mission of Street Sense and then onto a few articles before I once again was overcome with irritation and a mild form of anger. (This seems to be a normal reaction when I witness or educate myself on the injustice in the world. I am in the process of trying to funnel this anger into something more productive like compassion and service - compassionate service).

I read an article on homeless moms-to-be and was happy to find that there are multiple organizations in the D.C. area helping these women make solid homes for their babies.

I read an article written by a street vendor who told of the people he has met on the streets, which sales techniques work on different types of people, and how becoming a vendor for Street Sense has allowed him to support other homeless individuals like himself.

But then I read an article entitled "It's Time to Face Reality" - something I certainly need to do more often. I was suddenly infuriated to find out that the US Department of Health and Human Services believes $10,952 per year is enough for a single individual to survive, and that $21,947 is enough for a family of four. Who are we kidding? If $11,000 and $22,000 are considered to be ABOVE the poverty level (when in reality this isn't a livable wage) what we consider to be "poor" lies even further below this number? Do the individuals deciding upon these numbers really believe that 900 dollars a month is enough for shelter, food, water, health insurance, safety, clothing...

There are 49 million people in the United States don't know when their next meal will be... There are 49 million people living at or below the poverty level. There are 49 million people making less than $11,000 a year.

This number is chilling... 49 million people is nearly 16% of the United States population, and I can't help but believe that my frustration is sound.

So many people are suffering from poverty but are refused governmental support because they are not legally classified as poor according to U.S. Health and Human Services. We are adding to the poverty toll by refusing to provide aid to those who are clearly experiencing poverty.

I keep asking myself, "how can our government speak guiltlessly about the issue of "poverty" and decide that $11,000 is enough to survive with the essentials each individual in America has the right to after being born in the land of the free?" When I am given responses of laziness, substance abuse/addiction, and life choices I become even more frustrated, for certainly I am not naive enough to count these out, but I am also not ignorant enough to believe that this is solely the reason for 49 million people being without food this very minute.

We are the fortunate ones who have no concept of what poverty actually entails because we never have, and most likely never will experience such a poor life. We are privileged, we are powerful, we have the ability to create change, yet we use our privilege and power negatively, working not toward but against fostering social justice in our country of freedom and equality.

I realize now exactly why I live with my head in the clouds... it's because in my make-believe reality I don't experience such anger and frustration with the truth of our country. In my reality of romantic novels, blissful summers, and irreplaceable relationships I am not bothered by such issues as poverty and homelessness, rather I see equality, happiness, and love. But these issues are real, and something needs to be done... starting with me.

I have and continue to work for social justice; to put an end to poverty and homelessness because I truly believe that I am working toward a future I will never live to see, but know that I am contributing to the process of a future I hope will one day exist.

One day my frustration will end and I will be that much more productive. One day, someone will see the work of the many who have come together and overturned legislation and governmentally decided numbers. One day.