Funny

I cannot sleep. Maybe it was the coffee--maybe it's my being in denial that it will be an early morning and I am going to hate life when my phone starts making obnoxious noises at 6AM. As I sit here staring at my Flickr photostream and my new blog layout I cannot help but think about the coincidence of writing that blog yesterday and what I spent my day doing.

Carmel-by-the-Sea is full of boutiques. Said boutiques are quite pricey. I never go in them and quite honestly I kind of ignore them as I drive by. Today, I was asked to accompany a friend into one because she had what I thought would be a hefty gift card for $150. I walk in and browse through a few price tags and quickly realize that the gift card will not go a very long way... at all. I was so taken aback. Sixty dollars for a tank top. A tank top that looks just like one I saw at Target last week. Most the price tags had at least three digits, the first digit usually being larger than one. I quickly realized that $150 will not take us very far at all today.

Hello, Carmel. My, my, my you have not changed one bit.

I forget that there used to be a time when I did not think it odd to hear that friends were dropping a couple hundred dollars on a new dress or to be shown a new Juicy outfit. No, I was never the owner of said things but I witnessed it all the time. I never spent much money on clothes, but I was used to these numbers; these prices were once average and normal for me to hear people throw around. And as I walked around this little boutique on Ocean Avenue I kept thinking to myself, "There is no material here" and "I wonder how many children could be fed for a week for the price of this..."

Hello, Self. My, my, my how much you have forgotten.

It's funny to me. You know, that people can be so aware of their surroundings and yet still be shocked. I think the scariest thing about today, though, was that I walked into that store and immediately realized that I was not in my world anymore but was able to instantaneously flip on my Carmel-switch when my mouth opened. I hate that I can do that. I hate that I can make people think that I belong. I want to stick out. I want to look out of my element because I know that I am. I wish people could hear my thoughts and not my words because then maybe they would really know.

I know there has to be a reason that I grew up knowing this couture culture while understanding the rest of the world, but I have not yet figured out that reason. So, for now, this is all just a little bit funny.

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.

{Background found here}
The End.

SeaTac to SFO

Welp, my flight was delayed a good two hours so I am sitting here in the SeaTac Airport. I am going home for the summer, leaving Seattle and my Seattleite friends behind for two and a half months. I am excited to finally get back to California, even if it is only for a little bit, to spend time with my family, my dogs, my friends and, maybe most of all, the Mexican food. Oh and I cannot forget the sunbathing on my deck.


I am hoping for a good summer filled with reading and relationships. I plan on cramming my head with knowledge about microlending, immigration issues and figuring out what is it exactly that I want to do with my life after SPU.

Right now though, I am focused on goin' home.