Beached

My day started at 3:13am this morning when my mom and dad brought Snuggles home from the vet. Apparently his tests came back with normal results, and the cause of his illness was speculated to be either his teeth or a hairball. One of his teeth needs to be pulled and he, as we suspected, has cataracts. Both of these will be attended to by the regular vet on Tuesday or Weds. The emergency vet gave him a solution of electrolytes and stressed that he needed to eat every day for now, but once he was healthy again he had to go on a program of diet and fitness to reduce his weight. The message has finally gotten through to my mom, and I look forward to a new, healthier Snuggles.

I then had a dream about Chris and I trying to get back together and how miserably the attempt failed.

After watching the kittens prance and pounce in the backyard and petting Snuggles goodbye, we headed off to San Diego. Mom kept going over how mellow Snuggles had been at the vet last night. They also were talking about how proud they were of what Christopher has been accomplishing, and, when they thought I was asleep, me. At Petsmart there was a large black cat named Snuggles who looked and acted a bit like him. Dad half-seriously suggested that we take him home.

After they left I browsed the internet for a few minutes and then started out for Black's Beach(Torrey Pines). Andy had invited me to bbq-and-ultimate-frisbee-get-together-thing. The directions I got were shoddy, however, and I ended up getting off the bus early against my better judgment. This was my first time at Black's that didn't involve someone else driving me.

Crazy screaming lady is back again. I can hear her rattling cans.

After getting off the bus I started stubbornly walking in the direction I thought the beach was in. In my olden days I would not have had the gall to simply wander in a direction without giving up and going home. Literature champions large decisions which "show your true character"; less popular are all the little choices showing how your character interacts with everyday life in situations which might seem much bigger than they are when they are taking place. I ended up going through the Salk Institute and witnessing a silent panoramic view by myself in a rare moment of peace. After reaching the site where the handgliders launch , I finally got on the trail to Black's.

I didn't even know I had such a harrowing fear of heights until this one particular spot in the path which looked like a smooth downward curve with no handholds. Usually I throw dignity to the winds when hiking and, if necessary, start using both hands and feet. I started fearfully inching down, wondering if the traction of my sandals would hold me, when a couple came up behind me.
"Scared?" asked the man
"Yes."
"Join us!"
With their moral boost I did not slip and die, although not looking down helped a whole lot. We talked for a little while and I called Andy, who said that at this point I should keep walking south as I was probably on the wrong side of the beach. I was unconcerned, for while at that point I had walked about a mile I was on the beach and enjoying myself. Except for all the naked men-did I mention that Black's is a nudist beach? I saw more *insert your favorite name here* today than I ever wanted to in a lifetime. I figured that I would walk to the main entrance of Torrey Pines and take the bus from there if I couldn't find Andy at that point. And that's how I ended up taking a three-or-more mile stroll on the beach today, which probably added a few years to my lifespan. For part of the walk I was completely alone. There are so many thoughts seething in the water, though none probably as beautiful or as edifying as the clear waves themselves in the here and now. My thoughts wandered, and for a little while I struggled between holding on to the moments and living them. I'm terrified of the day that words will only bring back dying embers of past experiences, but I would rather have lived those fully than spend them remembering the details to write down. Everything from crabs to Chris; making all the little unconscious corners let go of him. They say that the death of a relationship is mourned like the death of a person. For me this was not true; it was a moment in time with both good and bad memories, all of which are over; we touched and then parted. With a person, the person is over, usually for no clear reason other than what we in our puniness can metaphysically attribute.

I had to climb a large rock to get to the other side of the beach. A stranger held my hand for a moment so that I wouldn't fall, though I navigated it surprisingly well on my own. My bag wasn't even there. I dislike handbags, as they feel like a sexist weight which hampers physical activity and fitness. I can't just keep my wallet, keys, and phone in my pants or they would fall down. Speaking of which, this entire time I was wearing shorts and a thin t-shirt over my swimsuit and not freezing to death. I once read that symbolically cold is attributed to individualism, climbing a mountain. Perhaps minute adjustments have been made in my constitution because of my mental state. I personified nature and wondered if the colors and shapes of the cliffs had some deeper, hidden meaning.

Anyways, there is too much to write. I got on the bus and came home with sandy feet, although physical limitations took over and I became numb while walking to my apartment. There will be more opportunities to go out and meet new people(at least I hope), and I had a great Memorial day.