Beach Day

I woke up in some sort of weird-beachy funk today. Maybe it was the sudden change in weather (snow has melted!) but I felt this urge to hit the sand. I just wanted to slather on the sunscreen or hop on my banana bike into town for ice cream. Of course, I am nowhere near the eroded pile of sand called a beach, but hey I can dream can't I?

Maybe it's what I associate with the beach that makes me want to go there so bad. For me it means care-free days of summer, mostly from when I was little. Back then, my only job was to listen for the ice cream truck to come by. I used to have no problem with going door-to-door asking if kids wanted to play. All summer long I would be this pasty white, due to my mother coating me in water babies SPF 60. I used to spend weeks at the Jersey shore each year with my family, what ever happened to that? I guess we all grew up.

Now the time we used to use just to play is now used to build resumes and make money. I feel so much pressure now to excel in life, to make something out of myself. I'm fearful for the eventual death of summer. What will happen when I get a "real job" (not babysitting) and I no longer have those two glorious months?

So today, instead of worrying about the future, I made my own little beach day at home. I sported the flip flops and began a good book (Invisible Monsters which I borrowed from ras). I took a little day for me, and I don't feel guilty at all for not accomplishing anything.

surf's up
ame