Bored Out of My Mind in Paradise

I'm slowly watching my skin grow darker and darker. There are freckles too, but over a smooth, tawny complexion, so I don't mind as much. The product of living on the west coast and not being a complete hermit, I suppose.

I've taken to riding my sister's baby blue beach cruiser whenever I can, usually to the gym, and I'm averaging about 3 miles a day in cardio.

To combat my aerobic efforts, of course, I've been introduced to the west coast yogurt phenomenon. Seriously, there's one every corner (sometimes two). Pick from a dozen different flavors of yogurt, fill her up, and then drown yogurt in a ridiculous and wonderful array of toppings. My first concoction: French Vanilla yogurt, crushed oreos, NY cheesecake bites, strawberries, carmel, and chocolate syrup. Mental groan of longing? You don't even know.

Also, I purchased my very first pair of designer jeans, Rock & Republic. That's right! I bought them myself with my money from my paycheck. I'm in the big leagues now, all grown up, a real woman, or something like that...

I don't really know why I'm saying any of this. Probably because I'm bored out of my mind in paradise.

Hey, we have a title.

Pineapple Express

There's something about car rides and beautiful landscape that really makes a person think. My twenty minute drive to work on the 101 provides a lot of time for this. And it's not like I say "Ok Taylor, time for some serious reflection". It just happens. One minute I'm rockin out to 103.3 (the beat of the Central coast) and the next minute I'm all quiet and serious, mulling over some major stuff in my life. It really isn't something I'd like to be doing with my time. It kind of creeps it's way in. The point is I would really like to ignore these thoughts and just continue to be a cool, empty-headed, California girl on her way to work.

But there's something about the cliffs and crashing waves and the speed of the car around the turns that just breaks me. It's like everything before my eyes is so beautiful, so raw and real, that I can't even begin to be anything less. It's like those ocean views just pierce right through me. When you look at something that is so absolutely gorgeous and so completely natural, everything else is stripped away. All that's left is you. You and every secret, every pain, every joy, every fear, every precious memory. Your hopes, dreams, everything. All that's left is just an undeniable, resounding Truth. And it's just starring you in the face. I don't know if it's God speaking to me through his creation or my own crazy mind but I get into this intense mode where I pretty much rack my brains out.

A lot of times they're filled with regret and sorrow. I start thinking about how I could have done things differently, been better. The sadness is often laced with an edge of bitterness. Fighting for nothing. That's pretty pathetic. And then, me being me, I can only stay mad for so long. And the waves are still crashing, endless, mile after mile. The sun still glistens off the bumpers and rooftops of the passing cars. Then I start to think, maybe I gave up right before the finish line. Maybe all that fighting wasn't for nothing. Maybe I gave in just a second too soon.

Oh yea, the point to my title. I packaged 100 pineapples today for work. It smelt amazing.

A place in the sun

My family moved to California in November of '08. I was left behind in order to continue attending school in Greenville, IL. We had known for a while that Cali was the next likely place for our family to live, so it was no real surprise when the "For Sale" sign went up in front yard of our St. Louis home. Although, I secretly loathed that sign. Several times I envisioned myself ripping the stake from the ground. The thought of scaring off possible home buyers by ranting and raving about in the front yard like a crazy woman came to mind as well. I always hated that whole process: waiting in my car outside the house, like some creep, trying to stay occupied with a book I had grabbed, while the prospective buyers took their sweet time criticizing my beloved home. It really put me in a bad mood...

Eventually I got over the whole possessive house thing and accepted it for what it was. I mean, it's family that makes a house a home right? And mine was moving. The destination definitely had me thinking. California...I mean, wow. It got a great response from people, tons of enthusiasm and remarks about jealousy and great weather. Good conversation for airplanes and what not too. And don't get me wrong, I was fully aware of the fact that I was basically moving to the coolest part of the country; a prime vacation spot with just about the prettiest views in the world. But people always failed to see what I struggled with. Hello, I have friends! And not friends that are good for a laugh or as a shopping buddy. These are strong relationships, bonds set deep with embarrassing middle school memories, late night baking, a shared faith, and mutual dislike for early mornings. In all seriousness these girls are the real deal. They're there for me, through thick and thin. Breakups, self esteem issues, you name it, they are there. And now I have to give that all up in return for phone call counseling and a once a year visit. No way Jose', I want chick flicks and late night talks in my kitchen on a regular basis, thank you very much. So, yea, that was a bit of a struggle for me.

But I'm out here now for the Summer, in the land of sun and surf. And it's beautiful, beyond compare. The sloping hill sides dotted with vineyards, the ocean vast and blue and sparkling like you wouldn't believe in the morning sunlight. And all the color that a year round tropical climate would bring. You wouldn't believe the flowers. And then there's the pastel beach cruisers coasting a long the boardwalks, the fresh produce of the farmer's market in tow. The hippies and homeless add their own color. Music along the streets, the blend of a dozen different ethnic foods wafting about. It's a sensory overload and something I never get bored of.

More to come from a place in the sun...