Loud Car at 4 a.m.
I live out in the country, and mostly it's quiet here. Unfortunately, the house I live in was built next to the road.
At 4:30 something a.m., a very loud car was racing entirely too fast on that road and woke me up. It's hard to fall back asleep, and I was hoping to get enough rest to leave in the morning without being tired.
Looks like that is not going to happen. I've been awake for over an hour. I worry that if I ever have to live somewhere else (like in a city), I am not going to be able to adapt to the noises.
28 July 2023
Sunday Hike on the Hills
17 July 2023
A Day at the Beach
I might have objectively had a terrible day at the beach today.
Although I only live an hour from the coast, I hardly ever go there. Family considerations, work, and old age lessen my desire to go. Why bother spending over an hour in the car just to spend money by the sea? But maybe, because I haven't been in a long time, the idea seemed more appealing than it was. In my mind, I had figured that I needed to break routines, and remembered that coastal trips were something I enjoyed in my youth. I had forgotten that the enjoyable part was spending time with people who enjoy my company and vice versa. I had had a strange dream the previous night that included me swimming in the ocean. I guess I figured my dream was a sign that I should go.
On the way down, I was stuck behind twenty mile per hour farm machines on a fifty five mile per hour highway. Cars were backed up. Just as I got past one, there was another a couple of miles beyond the other, with three altogether. Highway traffic on the other side made it difficult to pass.
Later, after clearing farm country, I had to be careful concerning the other cars. There is always someone who wants to pass even if you're going over the limit, and they ride your bumper.
At the beach, I parked in a public beach lot and walked around the small downtown area by the beach itself. I inadvertantly may have insulted the sophisticated older lady at the art gallery. I had asked her which art pieces were hers, and then purchased a card from someone else. I asked if she had done the oil paintings, and she had not. She pointed out her bookmarks, but I had only wanted to buy one thing, and it wasn't hers.
Then, I had an expensive clam chowder at a nice enough cafe, eighteen dollars for something I could have had elsewhere for less. I had not realized that, in our after pandemic era, most shops, cafes, or galleries I like close at two or three on Sunday. My choices were limited.
When it came time to pay, I was shocked to discover that I had lost my debit card. I guessed that I had left it in the ATM when I deposited my check earlier in the day. I paid for my meal with another card, and then returned to my car. Then, I called the bank's 800 number to cancel it. It won't be replaced until middle of this week.
Feeling a bit demoralized, I found that an incontinent seagull had befouled my car. The cars on either side of me had been spared. My window was really "hit" hard.
Becoming increasingly introspective and pensive about my day, I went for a walk on the beach. The sky was mostly gray, the incoming waves muddy and brown with sand, and the beaches littered with kelp tangles and pieces in various stages of decay. I followed a half mile behind an older woman in a brilliant blue blouse, but turned around to go back to the beach side near the shops again. The sands were piling into dunes that made it hard to cross. My feet hurt, and I was being careful not to twist my weak ankle.
This time, back in town, I purchased an overpriced ice cream that had too many calories. A middle aged father was threatening to take his son's ice cream cone away because the son, hardly four or so, couldn't sit still on a metal bench by the door. I instantly disliked the father, who had probably spent at least sixty dollars on his family's various ice cream treats. Mother, kids, and friends of kids, were largely circled around him.
Back in my car, I drove north to the other beach town and was increasingly depressed at the crass materialism of these coastal places. Everything for sale: houses, hotels, restaurants, food, fish, books, instruments, guns, cannabis, and gyms. It's like driving through a dirty mall whose glory days are behind it.
Fifteen miles inland and the sun came back out. On my drive, I thought about why I had wanted to go, or at least how I rationalized it. Was it a mental health day? Really, I figured my true motivation was loneliness and isolation, which wasn't helped by my trip. All of my fond beach memories occurred with my friends twenty or thirty years ago. I have none to share a trip with now, and painful memories of a failed relationship to be reminded of when I am there.
I did do a lot of reflection there and back though. If I had not gone, I might have wasted the day without even doing that, so maybe it all evens out. Emotionally, I guess I feel okay, but looking at it "on paper," I guess all I really accomplished was a waste of gas and money.
