hungry hearted

serving up a healthy portion of pop culture commentary, random infatuations, and introspective ramblings

which way to the beach?

Few things in life grant me the simple satisfaction of waking up only to slip into a bathing suit and out the door to the nearest body of water. That is summer. And while with age summer fades into the obscurity of yearly events, I refuse to let such an opportunity pass by altogether. I am thrilled to be leaving Austin tomorrow and finding serenity on the gulf coast shore of Mustang Island State Park.

Throughout my childhood, my family frequented the Jersey Shore points familiarized in east coast cliches and Springsteen songs. For most of my life the Atlantic Ocean was the ultimate summer experience. My parents took me out beyond the breaking waves to the calm, and I fell in love with the gentle disposition of the massive sea.

Bruce Springsteen - 4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)

My unconditional love for the beach eventually spawned my desire to seek distant shores. I've been fortunate to wade in the waters of the Pacific Ocean and the Caribbean and Andaman Seas, in Australia, Barbados and Thailand respectively. Such extravagant experiences of carelessly presenting myself as shark bait while surfing, snorkeling, scuba diving and wading in unfamiliar territories eventually awakened an unwavering fear of death by shark (call it foolish, I call it respectful precaution), and have consequently curbed my interest to venture out as far into the water as I did as a child, but never could it deter me altogether.

It's been almost a year since my last bout with the crashing waves which kidnapped my sunglasses in Cape May, NJ, and I've found myself longing for the basic accessories of the shore: the scent, sweet lulling sounds, and the lingering sand that sticks to you for days after departure. I can't wait to bask in the sun and enjoy the sweet, simple pace of the sea. So picture me loving life until I return with an appropriate summer photo montage.