Older Post Newer Post

A while back I wrote this blog as a reminder to myself to have faith during the hard times. Today, my challenges are different. They are new. They are tougher. Everyday, I find myself stretching the boundaries that encompass me. It's as if there is a constant friction on an overinflated balloon. At the same time, things are better. I have surrounded myself with positive people. We all have differences but, we are all going in the same direction and aiming for the same destination. I no longer find myself frustrated by suppression and progression surrounds me everyday, in some shape or form. I found it only fitting that I add this to solomish.

************************************************************************************

From the first blare of my alarm clock, I KNEW it was going to be another questionable day. It was yet another holiday; another holiday in which "Massa" would have us work. It seemed as though there were no REAL holidays in Slaveryland.

My Monday began extra early to catch up on a few projects that I wasn't able to complete the Friday prior. Monday. Friday. Somewhere in between were 2 days of partying, relaxing, and unwinding that had been overcome by a multitude of alcohol consumption. Oh AND that's right, while many of my friends had more enjoyable plans for the night prior and for the day ahead, I had only one thing penciled in. Work.

With a full schedule, I managed to complete a plethora of reports laden by numbers, numbers, and more numbers; prepared the new executive assistant's PC; prepared another PC; ran a phone line; emailed various parties; bantered with several consultants; reminded a few others regarding projects; slayed the dragon; rescued the damsel in distress; and saved the world from utter destruction.

3 PM had rolled around and like the weekend that I had mysteriously misplaced, the day whoooshed by like a hurricane, uprooting everything in its path. From the corner of my office, my surfboard was beckoning me. Neglected since Saturday, it yearned to get into the water and sail the waves along with the other surfboards (that was a rather generous description of my poor surfing abilities). I could hardly contain my excitement as I clicked furiously through the gazillions of pages of the Internet to arrive at 2 sites in particular: surfnewsnetwork.com and surfline.com. I had already heard about the great weather that awaited me outside of hell (the office) from a coworker who had run the marathon in the morning. I could only fathom blue skies, moderate temperatures, subtle winds, and plethora of bikins adorning the beaches. Since noon, I had already made my decision to brave the hike down Diamond Head to the beach below.

And drum roll...... I never could stand the advertisements that made the various surf cameras available free of charge. And cut the drum roll.

I feverishly clicked camera after camera to see an unwelcome commonality. THERE WERE NO FRICKEN WAVES! It was a holiday, the weather was reportedly nice, the traffic nonexistent, the birds had decided to give my poor car a break, and the bosses were unusually nice to me (maybe it was that nasty email I sent on Friday). But, how in hell could there be no waves? Everything, from here on out was supposed to be clear sailing. My mind went into utter shock and did a complete 180 from anxious to depressed. I immediately pondered going home; donning my PJs; and crawling into bed, defeated and doing what I absolutely hated...... nothing. All productivity would come to a screeching halt and the universe would implode as scientifically predicted. I began thinking of every reason not to go. There would be no itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow pokka dot bikinis; the water would be nasty and warm; the clouds would follow me from work all the way to the water; the crowd would be foul and unforgiving; my patience would be tested by the herds of beginners and longboards and beginners on longboards; the tide would be low; my skegs would do numerous reef checks; my feet would do numerous reef checks; someone would steal my slippers that I stashed in the bushes (again); I would fall down coming down the trail (again); I wouldn't find parking; and everything would be the opposite of what I had imagined. There would be no reason to go on; no reason for life; no meaning for anything, for kindness, chivalry, thoughtfulness, honesty, or any form of integrity.

Yet, something told me to go. Some power convinced me that everything deserves a chance. I decided to decline further reasoning and concentrate on my plan to get from hell to the water. I would grab my board, jump in my car, hit H1, take the 6th avenue cutoff, find a suitable parking by the lookouts, wax the board, switch to slippers and shorts, and trek my way to the water.

Today I would need no suit - there was little to no winds. Hmmm.... Ok. The crowd was as I had suspected - largely longboarders however, few in number. The waves weren't overpowering and looked manageable. The sky was blue and no clouds had followed me. I got to the water and made my way out. I turned around to see the girls in bikinis outnumbering the men (not in bikinis). The water was cool and refreshing, not skin piercing cold as I had known it to be the past few weeks. The water was also crisp and clear as I watched Kala, Moana, Uhu, and other variety of fish swim among their watery districts. In fact, it was so clear that an unfamiliar sight of divers' kuis littered the horizon. The sky was a soft light blue and the sun was positioned high enough that would allow me at least 2 hours of “me” time (then again, when is my time NOT about me – nyuk nyuk). I paddled out to the inside of the lineup, shy with my late attendance and a funny thing happened.

Things began to turn around. I found myself positioned well on majority of the larger waves. Muscle memory was beginning to take charge of my surfing and I felt more relaxed. As the crowd swayed back and forth chasing the sets, I kept position and sat myself in front of the landmark I had become familiar with. The rising sets would creep in and I found myself alone. The crowd would invade my secret spot while I paddled back out, only to be met with water reminiscent of a lake. I noticed that my body position was a little more forward and a lot more comfortable on my (short)board. I kicked a lot less and paddled a lot more. I felt at ease even after overhearing another surfer speaking about a small shark he had seen thrashing around on the inside. I caught a few smooth waves and weaved in and out of the crowd as they watched. My time in the water, while not enough, seemingly was paying off. I surfed and surfed and watched the sky turn from baby blue to purple to orange to crimson. I watched the sun drop to the horizon, reminding me to return home.

My last wave rolled in and from afar looked to be a powerless one. Surprisingly, it took me a great ways in. On the inside, the water was calm and would afford me an easy paddle in and in no time, I was at shore. I walked the beach and while everyone seemed to be winding down the day, I could see only happy, relaxed, and grateful smiles (and bikinis).

As I scavenged through the bushes for my footwear, someone called from behind me, "Hi."

I turned and to my surprise 2 (hott) girls were beckoning for my attention. Whoa... The one in the black top smiled as I analyzed her emerald green eyes. She looked no older than 25, about 110 pounds, 5'3", and dare I say, (and did I say?) hott.

"Hi," she repeated.

"Hi," I replied, stunned like a captured fish who had just taken a bat to the head. She reached behind her and swung around a pack that appeared to be a backpack cooler. As I read the label on the bag she asked, "Would you like a Red Bull?"

No fricken way. Sure enough, the bag was that familiar shade of silver and blue, had the red insignia of the bull, and read in bold letters, RED BULL.

"So... Would you like a Red Bull?" she repeated.

Speak dumbass. That means you.

"You serious?" I replied with suaveness only inherent among those who had watched every episode of The Pickup Artist. (Honestly, what the hell kind of response was that?) "You’re giving away free Red Bulls?"

"Yah," she replied as she fluttered her eyes and gave an even larger smile.

"I would love one! Is there something wrong with it?" I asked.

"No, we're just giving out free Red Bulls as a promotion. It's our job," she explained.

"No kidding? Sweet! I would love one my dear." As she handed me a VERY ice cold Red Bull, the other girl wandered off and offered a Red Bull to another person.

"Uhhhh... So you have the Red Bulls right?" I asked. I pointed to the other girl, "so does she have the Vodka?"

"Hahaha. That’s funny!" she added.

"What's your name?" I inquired.

"Sophia," she answered.

"Well Sophia, my name is Matt. Thank you for the Red Bull. You and your friend have a awesome day!"

"Sure thing," she finished as I walked off to the showers.

I made my way up to the car drinking my ice cold (and free from hott girl) Red Bull, pondering how my day had taken two 180 degree turns and finished off magnanimously.

Moral of the story? Sometimes, it takes a leap of faith......

Leave a Reply

Powered by Blogger.
© 2010 Solomish Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha. Converted by tmwwtw for LiteThemes.com and further modded by me. =) .