Monday January 1

Cursed Happiness

Today is my 7th New Year's Day as a citizen of the Golden State, and I revisited a tradition that began when I awoke to gray skies and a downtrodden heart on January 1st, 2002. That day I got in my car and drove aimlessly down Highway 1, blindly drawn to the fog of the Monterey Bay. I veered randomly at the exit for Rio del Mar Boulevard and found myself standing on a gloomy slice of the Aptos shoreline. That day stands out vividly in my memory for the way my sullen mood fit perfectly with the puddly sand, misty air, and the decaying cement ship silently enduring wave after battering wave.

Today's visit to Aptos was different. The skies were a crisp azure that mirrored my chipper mood (greatly upgraded 5 years later) and somehow the beach was far less beautiful for it. The newfound sun highlighted sludge and bird droppings. There was no mist to obscure the picnic tables, barbeques and asphalt pathways that shattered all intimacy with nature. I no longer felt empathy for the plight of the abandoned ship; it just looked like an ugly relect of industrial excess.

If I'm lucky, maybe next New Year's Day the Earth and I will be depressed again so that we can enjoy this place the proper way.