Insomnia has taken hold and won't let go. I've tried everything, but I still lie awake in bed watching the hours tick by. Three hours sleep is a good night.
Walking out to my living room this morning I saw the sun spilling over my couch, casting a shadow of my blinds on the wall. One more day inside might kill me, so I called in to work sick. Not a lie, I am sick. Sick of the sadness, sick of the clouds, sick of the everlasting gray, sick of missing people, sick of my job, sick of this depression that has gripped me since November 4th.
I stood outside and looked north, I saw clouds: I looked south, I saw clear sky. I began driving south and as the towns began to pass me by I realized that I was heading for the beach.
The coastal towns in Washington don't remind me of the ones in LA at all. Each one is like a Stephen King novel or the movie Mystic Pizza comes to mind. Towns full of fisherman and wharf rats, more like Maine than Manhattan Beach. Aberdeen is no exception. For the town that gave us Kurt Cobain you would think there would be some sort of hipness, even a nod to grunge via broke hipsters...but there was nothing. Even this tv sculpture was just an homage to the town, not a cultural statement.
I continued on, deciding on Westport instead of Ocean Shores. There was promise of a lighthouse, but I never saw one. I was, however, greeted with an expansive beach and when I looked out I saw nothing but water. No mountains, no condos, just acres and acres of ocean. It was beautiful.
There were some surfers out and, although it was very cold, the waves were awesome so I couldn't blame them for braving the frigged temperatures. I took a few pictures of them, but for my own viewing pleasure. I was getting quite a few smiles and nods from the gentlemen in wet suits, even using the cute dog trick to talk to me. I guess next time I'm feeling a need for a boost of confidence all I have to do is drive 130 miles east.
It felt good to be out, the salt air was amazing and I can still feel the sun on my face. Too bad the beach is so far away...I need to do this more often.
Walking out to my living room this morning I saw the sun spilling over my couch, casting a shadow of my blinds on the wall. One more day inside might kill me, so I called in to work sick. Not a lie, I am sick. Sick of the sadness, sick of the clouds, sick of the everlasting gray, sick of missing people, sick of my job, sick of this depression that has gripped me since November 4th.
I stood outside and looked north, I saw clouds: I looked south, I saw clear sky. I began driving south and as the towns began to pass me by I realized that I was heading for the beach.
The coastal towns in Washington don't remind me of the ones in LA at all. Each one is like a Stephen King novel or the movie Mystic Pizza comes to mind. Towns full of fisherman and wharf rats, more like Maine than Manhattan Beach. Aberdeen is no exception. For the town that gave us Kurt Cobain you would think there would be some sort of hipness, even a nod to grunge via broke hipsters...but there was nothing. Even this tv sculpture was just an homage to the town, not a cultural statement.
I continued on, deciding on Westport instead of Ocean Shores. There was promise of a lighthouse, but I never saw one. I was, however, greeted with an expansive beach and when I looked out I saw nothing but water. No mountains, no condos, just acres and acres of ocean. It was beautiful.
There were some surfers out and, although it was very cold, the waves were awesome so I couldn't blame them for braving the frigged temperatures. I took a few pictures of them, but for my own viewing pleasure. I was getting quite a few smiles and nods from the gentlemen in wet suits, even using the cute dog trick to talk to me. I guess next time I'm feeling a need for a boost of confidence all I have to do is drive 130 miles east.
It felt good to be out, the salt air was amazing and I can still feel the sun on my face. Too bad the beach is so far away...I need to do this more often.
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