Friday, February 20, 2004

If I could change a grain of sand into a pearl I would

I keep having dreams about water. I dreamt the other night of swimming the waters in Hawaii, so warm and blue and clear. I was swimming in the ocean and turtles danced around me. We (The Boyfriend and I) periodically go to Oahu to visit his folks, and my favorite part of the trip is going to the beach for the first time, heading to the water and plunging right in. I try to dive deep and touch the sand with my fingertips. Underneath it is silent except for the sound of my heartbeat and the occasional bubble. For me, it’s the truest form of peace.

It’s been so dreary and rainy here and my need to be in a tropical place has been overwhelming. I dream of water at night and during the day I daydream of surfing. The last time I went was in September, when The Boyfriend and some of our friends were on Oahu together. My friend and surfing buddy, Cuckoo (who I’ve known for waaaaaaay too long!) and I would get up at the crack of down to walk down to the surf shack to rent boards. Paddling out at 7:00 in the morning in just a bikini is probably the closest I’ll ever get to heaven on earth. Back at home, surfing is all about enduring the elements: Nor Cal surf is cold, rough, and a weird shade of greenish-black. You have to wear a thick 4/3 wetsuit and if you are a real wimp like me you put on booties and gloves. Post surfing isn’t about shave ice and drying off in the sun; it’s about putting on your sweatshirt and drinking something warm to bring back life into your nearly frozen appendages.

In college there should be a required set of courses called, “How to deal with this occasional shitty thing called life,” and when you started feeling restless, or unhappy, or sad, you could just pick through your old notes to find the solution to whatever was ailing your heart. I’ve had a tough week because it’s getting harder and harder to tolerate my job. I’m jealous sometimes, of people who already know their purpose, because I’m having a hard time finding mine. I admire people who are so driven in their careers but at the same time I am glad that I’m not like that because all work is to me is a means to eat. I don’t expect it to bring me fulfillment or joy. I expect it to pay my rent. Still though – when you spend the majority of your day at work, you want to be able to at least not hate it.

I worry that I’m becoming angrier and harder. I wish that I could go back to the time when everything was a wonder to behold. I’m waiting patiently to find the elusive missing puzzle piece. I hope it brings me the same sort of comfort I feel when I am submerged in the ocean, where I feel no boundaries, and my body feels free from everything that weighs my heart down.

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