Walks at Dockweiler

For the past few days, I have been driving myself and my two dogs to the beach around 4pm and walking them down the strand at Dockweiler as the sun goes down. My husband and I had already been regularly taking the dogs to the beach for a walk on Saturday mornings but I decided that, as long as I was still unemployed and therefore uncommitted at 4pm during the winter months when the sun sets at 5, that I should enjoy that freedom as much as possible.

This evening was my 3rd evening down there and the pleasure of it set in a bit more than usual, I think. It was just a few degrees colder tonight to the point where it kept all but those of us with dogs and/or a love of being alone outdoors away at work or at home. What struck me tonight was the fact that even still, regardless of how bloated and overpopulated this city has become, that I can drive myself 3 miles to the beach, walk across Vista del Mar and down to the sand, stare out at the Pacific Ocean as the sun goes down on a clear, cool evening and do so almost entirely alone. To be able to stand in the sand on the California coastline and stare in any direction only to find sand, the sun setting, the cliffs of PV to the south and the coast of Malibu to the north, and hear and see nothing else but the sound of the water and the occasional car is amazing to me.

I find this noteworthy because for the past 5 months I have, more or less, been completely and totally depressed. A native Southern Californian and an otherwise permanent and loyal resident of the state, I spent the last 3 years in Ann Arbor, Michigan for grad school, and just moved back to Los Angeles this past May. And while the last 2 of those 3 winters in "A2" certainly took their toll, the quality of life that I experienced during my first time living there was tremendous. Suddenly I was riding my bike, running, or taking a free bus to school; I was walking my dogs "through the woods on a snowy evening;" I was leaving the house during "rush hour" to go to the store because it was actually okay to do so; I was living in a home with spare bedrooms and unlimited storage space that I did not rent, but owned. While the draw of family, friends, my husband's new business, and all of my favorite things like unlimited sun, fresh seafood and access to the beach made a move back to my homeland more than appealing, once here, I was overwhelmed by the absurdity of what the average person endures simply to live here and wondered what in the world ever made me come back.

But tonight was one of those nights where the answer to that question was very clear. I distinctly remember thinking numerous times while living in Ann Arbor that one of the more unfortunate aspects of the city, and of the state for that matter, was it's enduring flatness. Not a hill or mountain dotted the landscape and as a result there was almost no good place to go watch the sunset, a regular past time for some one who lives on the Pacific coast. And tonight all I could do was stand there, staring at the blue edge of the water line and the orange glow of the last bit of sun as it went down, and listen to the complete absence of any noise other than the ocean and the intermittent plane taking off in a city of 10 million people, and be so grateful for it.

Finally, Blogging

It's troubling to me that this is the first time I have managed to set up a blog. I've been planning on doing so for nearly two years but have been so caught up in picking the "right time" to start or the "best" blogging tool to use, that I've found myself unable to make a decision and start writing. My pre-web days were no better. As an undergraduate English major and lover of the written word, I felt obligated to journal, and yet never consistently did so--always thinking if only I had the "right" journal or, god help me, the perfect pen to write with, or the ideal place to write in, the words would come flowing out of me consistently and never stop. Now, years later, I have no journals, no significant records of personal composition and I find it disappointing, if not absurd. Like all those people who join a gym as a New Year's resolution as though this sudden change in behavior can only come about in the most ideal of circumstances, I let days, months, and years slip by without writing anything because I thought beginning something new depended upon the page turn of the calendar rather than through me simply making a decision to do so.

Even now, I wonder, should I read through this and edit it more before I post it? Did I pick the right title for my blog? Just shut up and post the damn thing. So here I am, finally blogging.