Under The Bridge

It's sure damn time I purged my thoughts via this magical connection to the online world again. I miss writing, and am beginning to wish that I had more of an outlet artistically than simply strumming a guitar every now and again. It's like working out, if one abstains from the grind of pushing words onto a medium for too long, you can't flex. In short- I'm beginning to appreciate the multi-faceted city I live in. In long... I've been feeling extremely connected to the city I'm bound to as of late. If I ever get the chance to move, I'm not sure how far I'd go. Pensacola has this magical binding that somewhat enchants me the more I learn about her. Out of the cities of the South, Pensacola boasts some strange amalgum of best beach town and dirtiest po' dunk. I live closer to the 'dunk. It hit home when monsoon season happened last week. Just like when Ivan tore this city apart and my family housed 2 others, the rain got bad this time. Many of my friends have water damage again, and my roof leaked (ironically) right where I was sitting. Good stuff. The smell that permeated the thick fog of swamp and oak could literally sting a Northern nose. It probably doesn't help that I'm about a mile from a huge water basin, but the humidity was like a bath, and I'm glad I enjoy it that way. Apart from rusting harmonicas and fence hinges, the stickiness of the air still feels like a warm embrace from the city I'm slowly growing to love. A lot of people would probably think me insane for enjoying something like humidity, but it's a sense of truth that I can't really find in many other places. Everything nowadays seems very fake or point-driven, and it's refreshing to have to deal with something so real and universally tying as bad weather. People in Indonesia know what I'm talking about. I don't care how much money you have, your morals, your friend count on Facebook or your level of education. If it's raining you're going to get wet, and I love that. There's no subtle advertisement in weather, and if you really hate the rain you could use some nature-bonding. Some of the greatest childhood memories I have are when the weather got bad and everyone had to huddle together, if brief, still tugs at soul strings. Pensacola gets plenty of those moments. I work downtown, so I get to see that side of Pensacola too. I have massive windows off Barrancas that permit some people-watching, if brief due to the advent of bicycles. It's nice to gawk at the residents of the east-industrial area. Sandwiched between 'beautiful downtown Pensacola' and the working man's ghetto, the people of the street are almost iconic. It's what I would imagine our neighbors in Alabama typically see on the daily. We have a massive black community, but it's mostly old guys downtown. As a rabid blues fan, I can almost always hear BB or Alby King somewhere in the background on my lunch breaks as I pedal around smellin' for something good to eat. (Then I end up at Patti's buying fish anyway, haha) The last part of this Franken-city that's somewhat stitched into the southern side along the Gulf Coast is Pensacola Beach. It's a completely different lifestyle out there, and I see why my mama wanted a piece of it. Laid back and breezy, Pensacola Beach always has something going on. Blues on the Beach, every other seafood festival, and the Blue Angels keep the beach perpetually happening. The taste of saltwater will loom somewhere in the back of my mind for a long time, and I'll be impressed as hell if I ever find softer sand somewhere else. I kinda... I think ...I love Pensacola... Oh god I'm one of 'those' now. I have GOT to start visiting other cities.

Post-Sesh Glow

There's an epic moment of satisfaction when you ride a wave. It's the delirious, gravity-defying moment that makes you feel invincible. That moment is great, but watching it happen can be just as awesome.

I was out at the beach the other day watching knee-highs roll in, nothing I'd want to catch with a 7'0" banzai. I was out there to meet my old friend Nick, an ex-lifeguard at the beach. We set up shop with towels and my dog and some chairs, and his girlfriend showed up. She has two kids, ages 2 and 4, and they were just bundles of joy. I can't say that I was stoked to have them around my 100lb lab who's never hung out with kids, but c'est la vie.

The kids were torturing my dog as I paddled out for a couple of waves... No luck, the chop was too fierce and the waves were all bite-size. As I get back in, the little boy, Nathan, has this look of bewilderment that screams, "Show me how to ride those waves now please." He repeats the word 'surfboard' until we agree to let him out in the water with us. Nick's patience and the mother's fun spirit allowed Nathan to get just past the sandbar, stand up on the board, and ride it in. These were the kind of waves that have already broken up and could just push a toddler on a board. But Nathan was STOKED. Little dude was a natural! By the end of the day, he was surfing. It was the greatest thing I'd watched in weeks, and I look at the picture anytime I'm feeling work-worn.

It works both ways, too. I learned to shoot a hand gun this weekend, and couldn't stop smiling for several hours. (that felt like several minutes)
I was pretty anti-gun before touching one, and had agreed to shoot mostly so I respected the guns more. By the end of it, I was thinking about how much it would cost for a P250 Sig Sauer... Larry, my gun mentor, basically just wanted to watch me shoot because I was having so much fun, and I ended up spending most of his ammunition. The lesson's in the smile. (well that, and guns aren't toys, kids.)
Sharing an experience like shooting or surfing can be just as gratifying as learning to surf, or catching a stellar ride. I'm pretty sure Nathan won't forget that first couple of moments on top of water, and I definitely won't forget my first shot with that .38 revolver. I just hope I remember to teach my kids the same things.

A smile triumphs where words fail, regardless of tooth count and age.
Teaching can be the most fulfilling experience, and sometimes the teacher comes away with more than the pupil.

Stop and Smell the Anchovies

This is going to be an ironic post, as technology is what helps me do my job and I'm severely addicted to the clingy Iphone 4s apps; BUT, stop and smell the flowers.
It's an easy saying that a lot of people seem to walk right over and possibly even pick to give to somebody later. The strange thing is, those words don't really have an effect unless they're paired with an actual flower. The word 'rose' gives you that sexy, strong scent of freshly-bloomed voluptuosity. 'Daisy' almost emits happiness and sunshine, and the wildflower smell that grows amongst weeds. These aren't the flowers I'm talking about, but there needed to be a premise to describe just how outdoor-starved and socially inept we're becoming. Describing a smell can help the imagery. Just go with it.
As I walked down the quarter-mile to Shoreline Foods to get my typical feta-laden gyro and Rockstar energy Cola, I must've checked four or five different cell apps. With the wind at a brisk breeze, sun shining, and flowers in bloom; I was on my cell phone, not talking to anyone. Magic Seaweed told me the surf forecast, (dead, as usual) Castle Age told me I had 450k dollars in fake money to spend on fake armies, I wrote down some errands for later on Evernote, and ScoreCenter buzzed to let me know Barca won. Barcelona always wins. It's science. The thing I hadn't realized until halfway, was that the old black guys on the corner were playing poker out in the sun, listening to the blues. A happy, grizzly redneck was cleaning an anchovy-smelling fish outside his trailer. There was a whole row of lilies that I had never noticed when I drive to the store. Someone had cleaned the beautiful preschool's entrance-way so that it bounced sun rays at the MASSIVE oak above the poker-players' house. There was so much beauty on the 'dirty' side of downtown Pensacola that it took my breath away. And I was on my phone.
With dotcoms and internet-linked phone apps making headway onto Wall Street, it's easy to see why people can become obsessive with video games, applications and technology in general. The race for a sleeker, faster, blahblahblah with more blah and look... All I'm saying is that a screen can't portray what your mind can in real life, in real time. I'm jealous of the people that got to live before the internet. They exercised their minds within the confines of what they could. There were no WOW raiding parties, Facebook profiles, internet dating websites, etc...
I present to you this idea.
Pretend it doesn't exist one day. Get left behind the tech for just one day, and see where your mind takes you. I'm not talking about camping, just power off the devices. Laptop/smartphone/Ipad/Xbox/television whatever...
Power down, and connect to something else. Earthhhhh.
Feel the wind knock against the buildings and funnel past you, kissing your hair and the plants around you. Absorb sunlight/Vitamin D, and sense the cloud cover the UV rays every couple of minutes. Hear whatever is going on around you, and see if you can't concentrate in on what makes those sounds! It doesn't take a hippie or a camping trip, it just takes the right frame of mind. And no distractions.
peacelove&happiness, y'all.

PS: I do realize the irony of presenting this topic on a computer, and hopefully it will tear you away from yours. I'm saddened a bit to say that I'm tied to mine until 5pm everyday at work. (Especially while everyone's on Spring Break)