I keep trying to write.
So many thoughts.
So many things I want to express. Ideas and conversations and pictures painted with words.
But I'm out of practice.
Everything I write is forced
Is prattle.
The tone is wrong.
The words aren't strong enough.
The picture not clear.
So it all stays locked in my head, pushing and shoving for space.
I want to write about the way the city looks covered in fog.
And how it has forced my inner noir romantic to the surface.
I want to express how I've been feverishly reading James Ellroy and Dennis Lehane
I want to explain how their writing is so exquisite
so painfully sharp that I bleed with emotion all over their pages.
How to explain the need to sit in a dimly lit bar and discuss all the books that shaped, formed, made our character. Or talk about movies, the ones that were real. That broke us. That shattered our walls with a glance. The ones that gave us the courage to do things previously thought beyond us. Or the music that soothes us, that carries our dreams and wishes onto the breeze. The fog makes me romantic, wild, with hints melancholy.

See?
Contrived.
Forced.
But not any less true

I want to write about surfing.
About the hours spent in the freezing water, only going in when my hands and feet are swollen from the cold.
About the culture and camaraderie that can't be captured with words. 
The way the sun and the waves heal things in me I had never acknoweledged were broken.
The burning desire to get better, to abandoned everything except the sea.

 I want to write about the ghosts of friendships past.
Or write about future dreams that I'm trying to give shape and substance.
Hell, I could write how I almost gave up on music and then fell wildly passionately in love with it again.

But every time I pick a topic
Every time I start to write
it falls flat.
I can't find my voice
And worse, I don't know where I lost it.
It's not under the bed. I already checked.
I'm not sure where else to look. My closet by the sea isn't big enough to hide secrets
let alone something as big as my need to write. To document.

Stay with me people.
I'll find the words eventually.

New Beginnings

There seems to be a theme in my resolutions.
Growing up.
I am nearing thirty and clearly feeling my age.
I find myself worrying about acting too young, or being one of those people that refuse to grow up.
Being old terrifies me, but being old and refusing to accept reality is even scarier.
I don't want to be in my thirties and still scrambling. Still living loose.
It's a delicate balance, trying to stabilize but not become rooted. To be steady, but not weighted down.

First, I want to look the part.
I've neglected my wardrobe for far too long. I've always liked clothes, but have always had too many interests, too many personalities to stick with a certain aesthetic. In addition, spending money on clothes was never a priority, if there was extra money it went towards adventures. Why spend money on clothes when I could spend it on experiences?
However, lately I've found myself yearning to look more complete. To look a little more polished. I'm still perfectly happy in jeans and a hoodie, but as my personality is growing up, so is my wardrobe. Or it should. Or maybe it has less to do with getting older, and more that living here has completed me. Being in Arizona made me restless and itchy and who could care about clothes when all I wanted to do was immerse myself in events to make myself forget that I was unhappy in my location? But here, here I find peace. The proximity of the ocean soothes my soul and acts as a balm for all that is restless and wild in me. It's still to be seen if this is a permanent fix, but now that I am no longer thrashing about I can look around me, look down at me, and realize that I want my outer appearance to match my inner.

Second, I want to clean up the clutter in my life.
This covers a few things, financial, daily, emotionally and physically.
San Diego is expensive but I make good money and if I can stick to a budget it's more than doable. So. It's time to buck up and start keeping track of where all my money goes. My daily life is such a whirlwind. I have plenty of time to do things. Yet I am either very lazy and do nothing, or going nonstop. This is silly. Although I detest routine, I need to plan things out just a little bit better. Fit everything in. Working out, fun, cleaning, grocery shopping... there is time for it all, I just need to budget my time. As far as cleaning up the clutter emotionally, basically I think writing will help with that. My job is stressful and if I don't empty my head a few times a week, it builds. Writing, whether publically or privately, needs to be more of a priority. Plus, I have all these unfinished storylines of friendships and relationships and even though most can't be resolved, writing helps  sort and put some of those stories in perspective. The clutter in me physically is the most important and the easiest to fix. Stop eating junk and work out. Eating junk is expensive and bad for my body. I need to start to grocery shop, cook a few times a week and stop making excuses.

So for 2014 I have three words that sum up what I want to focus on.

Immerse: In water, in experiences, in life. Put the phone down, dunk myself in salt water weekly, stop isolating and engage in all relationships. This year I want to really focus on immersing myself in music and fun and peace and breathtaking sights and danger. No wait, I mean excitement. and danger.

Stabilize: Time to be a grown up. Stabilize a budget, time to workout, writing time, and basically clean up the clutter in my life.

Document: Write more, take pictures. I have this amazing life and all I have is a bunch of pictures of my dogs. Which, while adorable, does not sum up my life.


How's that for a new years resolution?