A Gypsy in SoCal
When I first open the windows around 5am the usually-significant ocean breeze fills the space of my apartment with what I always hear in my head as a ‘swoosh’ or a rushing sound. Interestingly, it reminds me that every day is new and I have yet another chance to be the contender that Marlon Brando’s voice has screamed in my head incessantly for 30 years and as of late, in a more accusatory tone than I am accustomed to.
With the ever-present reminder of the price of utter failure securely locked in to the deepest part of my psyche, the fleeting fancy of nostalgic movie-stars reminding me how fragile I really am is thankfully and mercilessly replaced with the various olfactory reminders of coastal life wafting through the thick morning air which, due to my proximity to Tijuana, usually include sweet hints of fresh tortillas being filled with marvelous huevos, mixed with a smidgen of sweet and spicy onion and seasoned street corn. There is also of course, the uniquely aromatic fresh-from-the-garden-of-life staple of Mexican cuisine and herb of light and life that we simply call ‘cilantro’ in always-present undertones, more like a revival of the spirit than a simple scent really. The narrow proximity to the authenticity of Mexican life and cuisine is by far, one of the most life-affirming experiences that I’ve ever had. It brings an agnostic atheist as close to God as one naturally averse to such things might hope for and generally, and far more importantly, it makes me constantly smile. It’s more of a religious and spiritual deliverance than any visit to church and my soul is transformed daily, which the Christians are mad about, but I suspect if there is a God, He’s probably okay with.
This place I live is incredibly special in so many ways. The amazing weather, beautiful ocean, delicious food, and tolerant people certainly contribute, but even further than that, for me it represents a significant resting place for some of my most significant internal life-long struggles and culminates all of the feelings and worries of failure and pressure, success and expectations, family and friends and somehow allows me to view them all from a perspective that hasn’t previously been accessible to me. For me, that’s worth the cost of admission, which is steep in SoCal.
I consider living on the ocean in San Diego, one of those ‘bucket list’ items I never thought I would be able to pull off. Though I don’t know why I thought that because I’ve always been incredibly lucky in life and have somehow always been able to access the incredible things I’ve dreamed about. I’m truly humble and appreciative of the luck I’ve had in my life, but I don’t have a personality that will ever be satisfied in the traditional sense of the word, so next year I could be living in Vietnam or Puerto Rico. I have an incessant need to move forward and never stand still. The present doesn’t exist in any real sense in my mind, only what is coming next. I need to always think about the next iteration, the next achievement, the next…the next…but, this place…this place grounds me to something I could eventually feel is home. For those that have this feeling of home already, good for you! I wouldn’t say that’s been a very common feeling for me at any point in my life. For a tramp like me…I was born to run.
