Summer in Carmel Valley

I have now been home for 37 days. In those 37 days I have been reminded of the things that I love about being home and the things that I do not love about being home. You can read about some of the things that I love here. I'll tell you though, after 37 days the good things start to deteriorate and the bad weigh down. Alright, it's not that bad. I have loved hanging out with Andrea, Cbear, Katie Fitz, and Leslie. I have loved having the beach less than fifteen minutes away.

BUT

being home also means that everything (no, really, everything) is closed by 7PM-- 9PM if you drive an extra ten minutes. Everything but the beach and hiking (most of the time) costs money. And it takes a butt load of energy to go out anywhere. See, growing up here means that you went to preschool, elementary school, middle school and high school with all of the same people. No, I mean like you graduate with less than 150 students and of those students more than half of them knows way too much about you. And has been to your house and has silly pictures of you from 10 years ago.

Maybe the worst part of being home is being sucked back into the materialistic shallow world of Carmel-by-the-Sea. The other day I was listening to Jack Johnson (a taste I blame on growing up by the beach) and felt as though I had to share the following lyrics because it speaks so clearly to my feelings towards the wealth and the people on this beautiful bay.

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The End.