Life as an Extreme Sport

Fleeting Lightning Bugs [August 12-13]

It’s been a long week. I was supposed to go out this weekend with some people I’ve recently met, but opted instead to spend most of the day at Borders, using the wireless connection and trying to find my roots. Trying to laugh.

I know it’s cliché, but wow — people are different back here. I’ve always thought that the idea of the abrasive, confrontational New Yorker was, well, fiction. Something that might have been a relic from an earlier time, taken by writers and comedians and ran with. I would be wrong in that assumption. I fit the West Coast — laid back, relaxed, not terribly concerned with protocol. Although I think I’ve surfed maybe three times in my life, I feel like the out of place surfer moved somewhere strange and landlocked, sticking out like a sore thumb, wanting to go back where everything is familiar. Where I know the rules of the game, how it’s played, how to play it.

But I’m stuck here, in this confrontational and blunt world, and going to instead suck it up and work on my CV, and try to focus on the bright points of the prior week. I just wish they weren’t so much like lightning bugs, fleeting and impossible to hold for long.