At times I wish I was a better anthropologist; that I could slip into different societies with the calm and practiced routine of a native. I’m not. I’m the guy on the beach in the bright blue dryfit, a stark contrast to the muted colors of the locals. Not an outcast but an outsider, unfamiliar with how to look and how to behave in the environment. There is good in that. On the one hand I maintain my sense of self, because I am always some muted form of me on these occasions. There is also the opportunity to learn, should I allow myself the time and space to sink in and do so.
This post comes from Pacific Beach. I’m sitting steps away from the ocean writing and observing. I’m drinking in the social order. I am relearning what is acceptable, what is expected, what is beautiful, and ugly, and wanted, and abhorred. I am only here for a few hours, which is not nearly enough time to become a native. It is enough time to sink into the idea of the people and to watch and to enjoy and to recognize the nexus of tourists and locals and daytrippers such as myself and start to tell the difference.
All of that is important to me as a writer and as a person in general. As a writer it is how I learn to sculpt worlds. As a person it helps me to recognize more about who I am, how I am seen, and how I see other people.
Some Thoughts:
- Overheard quote of the day, “I would want a pool so we wouldn’t have to do anything.” I get it. I want a pool for that exact reason. I want a non-digital activity for my kids that doesn’t require me to drive or do anything that takes away my own time. It used to feel selfish, but kids are selfish by nature and if you don’t carve out the opportunities for yourself you are going to get swept up in their universe.
- I am grateful to be here with the woman I love.