Island in the Sun

Today I was driving to the grocery store and Island in the Sun by Weezer came on. I was transported back to Costa Rica in November 2015.

The bottle of Sailor Jerry’s rum sat in the middle of the table. The party had taken off around me with my two friends, a couple with at least eight tattoos of the Canadian flag between them, preppy fraternity brothers appearing and disappearing from a bathroom, and Cristian, the manager of the hostel, was conversing and drinking with them all. Then there was me. Completely sober. I was at the table, or wandering around, people sat and swung in the hammocks. The sun had set, but it was still warm outside. The afternoon rain shower had since evaporated, and the humidity had thinned out.

Cristian announced: ‘We’ll go to a big party later.’

I followed one of the girls down to the liquor store beneath the hostel. She was blonde, from Rhode Island. She talked about prescription drug abuse at some point. She talked about the waterfront restaurants, and how she worked at one as a hostess. Apparently everyone there is on some kind of prescription medication, just to get by. The fraternity brothers were all collectively in love with her. I was sure they spent all those trips to the bathroom measuring their egos to see who would get to make a move.

I don’t know which one of us opened the door, but I remember being in a place with absolutely no value or interest to me. All these bottles of alcohol on the shelves had no appeal to me. I dutifully followed her to the counter. She paid for it, although I don’t know if anyone else contributed beforehand. We went back up stairs. The bottle sat on the table, while they prepared the peripherals: shot glasses, soft drinks to mix it with, whatever else. They didn’t have coconuts or little cocktail umbrellas but the imagination was there. It was at that moment that I found myself staring at the bottle. I had a guitar string in my chest, and someone had just strummed it. I could just take a shot. It’d be fun. My brain started to play tricks on me too. Remember how fun it was to drink shots of rum, back when you were 16 in Germany? That’s when I heard a voice:

‘All this time you’ve spent staying sober. You’d throw all those days, weeks, and months out. That one shot would reset the clock. With one shot, your clean record is wiped. You would have to start all over again.’

The group of us were walking down an unsealed road to the big party. It wasn’t far from the hostel. Cristian announced: ‘I’m lit up like a freaking Christmas tree.’ Everyone laughed and the conversation picked up again. We passed by a couple of police cars, probably doing a routine traffic stop. Cristian positioned himself in the middle of the group and made himself small. He said something about his immigration status. I don’t know if the police even cared that a bunch of drunk foreigners were out and obviously headed to a local club.

We waited at the bottom of a very big set of stairs, and slowly made our way up and into the crowded venue. There was a big pool outside, but it was roped off. The place was packed, and boring. We left after an hour or two.

The next thing I remember was being near the ocean. There were deck chairs and a swing seat. I wandered out to the beach, then pulled everyone out there with me and ordered them all to look up. In the dead of night, on the Pacific coast of Costa Rica, the stars were out in force. I don’t remember the stars very well, but I remember everyone staying on the beach. One of the frat boys and the blonde from Rhode Island were knee deep in the waves. I noticed they were making out, and I looked away. I guess I’d given them a context to be romantic, but that certainly wasn’t what I meant to do. I wanted to feel sublime underneath the brilliant light of nature and existence. They just closed their blurry eyes to all of it.

That was the one time I was ever tempted to really drink alcohol. The voice that persuaded me out of it was my own. I didn’t want to stop being sober, I didn’t want to lose my progress. I really didn’t want to give up on myself, on the commitment I’d made. If I did, the consequences would have been so much more devastating than a headache. I would have broken a promise to myself. I wouldn’t be able to make any other promises and believe that I could really keep them.

I was distracted thinking about this story while I wandered through the grocery store. I’m no longer close to the friends I had back then. I listened to the voice that night, and since then I’ve been living the life I want to, and keeping my promises.


The Search

As you may already be aware I’ve taken up surfing. Usually down on the Oregon coast (Seaside, Cannon Beach) or out at Westport, WA. I’ll either borrow Kt’s sister’s surfboard or rent one from a local surf shop. I have my own full length wetsuit with a hood, gloves and boots. I’ve had a few surf lessons: my first two were in Costa Rica, and another with Kt in Australia. Other than that, I’ve just figured it out as I go. I just know how fun it is to catch a wave.

I’ve been fighting off a cold for the last two weeks or so. It’s prevented me from being able to train. I think without training I tend to lose my focus and drive. When I take time off work it makes me wonder what else I could be doing in my life (rather than a desk job). That inevitably leads to me feeling pretty unsettled, and sometimes frustrated that I can’t make immediate changes to the situation. There’s bills to pay: I can’t just surf and train every day. Not yet, anyway.

These last few days, I’ve been wondering what my passion really is. I’ve come around to the idea that it’s not what I’m doing right now. Working in an office isn’t my dream. I can’t waste years working on something that isn’t bringing happiness to my life. There are two financial roadblocks: paying off my car, and the credit card. Those two things need to be cleared before I can really seek out my dream: whatever it may be, and wherever it may take me. I have to be okay with my dream changing over time, but I won’t let go of it, and I have to chase it as if my life depended on it.

I’m thinking about film school. I’m thinking about Canada. I’m thinking about Hawaii. I’m thinking about Boston. I’m thinking about the kind of work I want to do, but more importantly the kind of life I want to live. All of this thinking is being blurred by the cold I’m fighting and the medicine that’s controlling symptoms.

This blog has always been about me, and a way for me to motivate myself. Now there’s another person in my life, and we have shared responsibilities and shared dreams together. She’s always encouraging me to ‘quit my job and do what I really love’. I’ve been stuck in a mindset, and this blog is evidence of it, that I have to figure out my life on my own. Kt is by my side, and she can get me out of my own way. She pointed out that I’ve been avoiding the obvious: I need to write. So here’s to the endless search for the perfect wave, and the relentless chase after the kind of life I want to live.

Travel Plans

I’ve come to realize how much I live to travel. I have my long term plan to drive around the US. In the meantime I have short term plans to visit nearby places by car:

  • Idaho (for work)
  • Canada (again, to see family)
  • California (for a family reunion)

Later this year I plan on using a week of vacation to visit the North East:

  • Washington D.C.
  • Philadelphia
  • NYC
  • Boston

I’ll fly out and catch the train between each city. I’m really excited to explore a part of America that is culturally diverse from what I’ve experienced so far. There’s a mix of history and modernity on the East Coast. I’ve never seen it, and never been there, but I have images of it my head. The idea of the NE mainly comes from popular culture, and people I’ve met who live or lived there. It’s foreign and I’ll be a tourist in my own country. I want to go because I think I’ll like it there. I want to go because I can challenge my preconceptions about those places with real and personal experiences.


‘Laughing just to keep from crying’ – Rory Gallagher, “Bullfrog Blues”.

I was dressed as Captain America all day yesterday. After some pre-gaming at my house, some friends and I went to a house party. They had savory croissants with meat, lettuce and cheese. I ate five of them and no one even noticed. I danced through the house to Rock Lobster by the B52’s. We bar hopped the rest of the night, until closing.

Today I watched the documentary Maidentrip about Laura Dekker who was the youngest person to sail solo around the world. Her story is very inspiring. Strong, independent, and a complete badass. That’s the kind of person I want to become. She went through some things I can relate to.

Although my own transformation is still in progress, I feel like I’ve made a lot of progress in the last eleven months.

I try to stack up all of the baller things I’ve accomplished: living and working in America; driving my dream car; adventuring; and travelling (even as far as Costa Rica in eighteen days!). Playing soccer and trying to stay in shape. Partying with friends until the bars close. Dancing. I’ve got it together. I can manage the things that need tending to. I handle those responsibilities one at a time, shutting everything else down while I tackle a particular problem.

A feeling has been creeping up on me. I’m not homesick because I don’t miss Australia. I’m in a kind of fight or flight mode. Just when I think I’m okay, and swimming along, something will happen that threatens to pull me under. Usually money problems, like an unexpected bill. I impulse buy Nutella one time, and spend weeks fighting the resulting breakout. I notice how small my arm muscles have become. I’m treating these little frustrations as emergencies. I think it might be a while until I’m no longer in that state of mind. In the meantime, I’m trying to minimize disruptions to the fragile stability I have.

Sometimes it’s tricky to see the big picture of what I’m doing, and what I’m about. I know I’m headed for greatness, and while I might not have a nautical charts to guide me, I have enough confidence to keep moving, even when the wind isn’t with me.

Four Days Remaining

Last night I said goodbye to Mum and Dad. I won’t see them in person again, until one of us makes the trip across the Pacific. It’s my last four days in Canada.

Most people my age (in Australia at least) have a few popular growing up trajectories. You finish high school, go to university or learn a trade, or maybe take a year to work full time or travel, start working, and move out. I know people still living at home, and some who moved out years ago. Working hoildays overseas are a well known option for people my age. If you do one or any of these things, most people you meet will have something to say about it. They will probably know someone who has done the same thing.

Imagine the time when there was nothing but rough bush and wilderness. People started exploring and cutting tracks through the bush. They migrated. The next traveller could follow the tracks of the trailblazer before him. Eventually we turned these tracks into roads, which became modern highways connecting cities. It’s the same thing with the trajectories described above. Growing up in Australia is about following the modernised highways and roads: study, work, move out.

It adds up to a very particular definition of success. Everyone goes about it their own individual way, studying different things, mixing up the order of achievement, changing jobs, and so on. I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that approach to life. It feels like ticking off achievements on a generic list. I’ve lived it that way so far. I’ve studied, worked, and travelled. I’ve been on the well worn path to someone else’s idea of success.

I’m not just leaving the nest to pursue common perceptions of success. I’m carving out my own future. I’m not just mixing up the sequence, I’m creating new opportunities to gather experiences. It doesn’t matter if I’m working, studying, or travelling on this adventure. What matters is that it’s my adventure, and that I’m not bound to the generic definitions of success.

I’ve been thinking about the decision ahead: what path I might take in America. Work, study, or travel? At this moment I’m still not sure what I could end up doing. I know I’ve had a good head start, and that I’m ready to figure it out on my own.