Live Aboard

This is an excerpt from a journal right when I moved from Seattle back home. Like what you see, get to know me!

Cruising to check local surf spots in wind chop

“Live Aboard”

This topic has come up multiple times in the past month. Usually after we’ve had a couple of drinks at Sea Fresh while munching on sushi and fries. Wild combo. I know.

“Do it. Just do it,” he said with a mouth full of albacore. “You won’t regret it.”

It respectively being not only to buy, but to live on a boat.

“I don’t know,” I say.

I don’t know seems to be the only response I can give lately.

Sometimes my heart quickens at the idea–both out of excitement and anxiety.

“Megs, just imagine it. You walk down the dock. Open up the cabin. Light a few candles. Kick back. Write the night away under the stars. That’s your home.”

“When you put it that way.”

“Then wake up to gently rocking in the wind…”

He trails on and on… The seagulls, the seals, the salty air, the splashing of bait, the fog horns, the marine layers, the sunsets.

Fisherman banter.

Both sessions of mine. Banter and fisherman.

While it is easy for me to romanticize everything he says, I have this relentless realist in me.

If it wasn’t for her I’d already be packed up, yo-ho-ing my way down the dock and cracking champagne over the bow. Yep. Damn the realist.

“I know nothing about boats,” I say.

“You don’t need to,” he says.

“I find that hard to believe. The only thing I know about sail boats is don’t drill holes in the bottom.”

He takes a long slurp of his rum and coke. The way he always does. Loudly with squinting eyes looking down before looking back at me.

“I’m telling you the truth. It’s simple. All you have to do is empty the holding tank when it gets filled and clean the bottom scum every few months.”

Right. That’s all…

“But what if the toilet breaks?” My eyes avoid his.

It was a weak attempt. But it was an attempt.

“Well, you fix it?” He smirks. I hate that smirk, just as much as he hates mine.

“Of course.”

“I’m telling you. I think you will love it. You need to have something that is all yours. Something you take care of, something that you can call your own.”

It’s true. He’s right. This sailboat somehow feels like a gateway to somewhere I am being called to be. A place completely unknown. A wild place.

The past year has been been defined by both limitations and freedoms. I have felt both stagnant and infinite. It’s this caged bird mentality that has pushed me to my limit.

It’s been a great year, but I have hardly taken the time to reflect on it until this sailboat idea was presented. This sailboat is challenging me to think about my life.

It’s undeniable that the place where I was planted and thrived is now all together too small for me to keep growing in. I am being beckoned onward to something greater, yet even still, I feel reluctant to be replanted.

I have always made it a point not let fear rule my decisions. My dad always said, “You’re not nervous, you’re excited!” I think he was trying to say, “Don’t be scared.” I try not to be scared about things. Especially new things.

But there is still this lingering fear. I once was told, that fear ti often just pretending to be logic.

“Megs, you know what it really comes down to?” he says while looking at his empty glass of ice. “Not whether you can do it or not, but what in hell is holding you back from doing what makes you happy?”

Good question.

Water makes me happy, why am I not living on it?

Want to know more about me and Wild Sun? Get to know me more.

Boating to Santa Cruz Island



The Value of Ugliness

This is an excerpt about social media and journalism during my transition into Graduate School.

Sunset Point
Ventura Sunset the definition of beauty

I feel like this past year might have aged me about 20 years. I feel mature, somewhat organized, and yet, still completely lost.

I feel that my responsibilities have grown tenfold. This growth of responsibilities has helped me feel a weird sort of self worth. As if my “To Do List” is a reflection of my worth. Something to brag about to others, something that proves my value. Supply and demand complex.

Yet, even though my to-do list is feeding my ego, I still experience myself struggling exhaustion. Directionless energy. It’s upsetting. These emotions feel like a prison, holding me back. (Cue Anchor Man scene “I’m in a glass case of emotion!”) I often feel like my humanness is weakness. As if being tired, annoyed, or angry are flaws rather than reminders that I am not machine.

Our world is consumed, or obsessed, with beauty.  Pretty people, pretty clothes, pretty houses, pretty vacations, pretty families. We want to eat pretty food.  We want pretty things in our homes. Not only this, we want to be applauded for our pretty things. We want to share these pretty things with the world and we definitely want to be acknowledged for it. Pretty, along with busyness, equals value. And because of this we only show our pretty things, whether it is true or not

This is nothing new. Humans have been acting this way for so long. It must be instinctual. Pretending this are good. Things are pretty.

But there seems to be a new sense of gravity to this in regards to the amount of social media/communication that is available. Sure, keeping up with the Jones’ is difficult, but it seems like we are now trying to keep up with the entire world. Studies are showing that avid Social Media users are growing more and more discontent with life. And I don’t think any of us really need to be explained why this is. Being constantly bombarded with other people’s beautiful lives, makes us hyper critical of our own. Thus we react. We compete. We share our own beautiful moments. Thus, perpetuating the false representation that life is always beautiful.

The effect of beauty on us doesn’t really interest me. It seems obvious that other people’s beauty feeds envy and discontent. My question is if we are forcing so much pretty into our lives, is it silly to ask… Where does all the ugly go? What happens to it?

What happens if we lack to acknowledge the bad parts of life? The boring?

I’ve seen patterns in history. I’m not an expert, but humanity has always bonded over mutual hardships, common crises or simply confusing times. During the Great Depression, fisherman in various beach communities would offer an all you can eat crab feast to their community for free. September 11th, an entire country stopped breathing all at the same time. A country was silent. There is nothing more powerful than sitting in silence. The recent injustice of human rights have brought masses of diverse people to one spot, using one voice.

Hard times cause us to utilize diversity in wonderful ways.

Are we isolating ourselves by not publicly acknowledging that we all feel pain?

Are there consequences to this? Does this fuel a sort of self-loathing for even experiencing the mundane day-to-day life?

My ultimate question is, are we blinding rito an entire category of life? Are we pleasure seeking and discarding the bad?  And if we are, what are the implications? Was Huxley right?

And yet, as much as we love pretty, we have a dark side. We are putting ugly somewhere. The media.

I  have always been overwhelmed by how many negative stories are chosen to be shared in journalism. Shootings, corruption. Murder. Rape. Cheating. Lying. I wont lie, most news updates fuel a confusing fear based view about humanity.

While I like to pride myself of having a wild, unconditional love for those around me, recently, I there irrational skepticism growing in me. I’m sad that I am scared of my of my community. I’m sad I’m scared of strangers, who are more like me than they are different. I’m sad that I am scared that there might be more bad than good.

I also wonder what it means for us as “consumers of information.” What does it mean for our minds and eyes to be drowned in constant beauty and/or constant ugliness, and very little in-between? What are the implications? What are the effects?

I can’t help but feel that this polarization of information creates a divide between us.

The prettiness feeds our envy of others and self-loathing of our shortcomings.

And yet, the ugliness feeds our distrust in others. Our fear.

Envious and depressed of others pretty, fearful and angry of others

The mind reels. As always. And I have no answers. As always.