What I wouldn’t give to see the surf boys in that day, and to be sweet sixteen again.
Just like the “real life” Gidget, I’m fascinated by surfing and surf boys—but if Mr. Postman is taking orders, I’d prefer one who’s also a writer, singer, and dancer who plays guitar too. I’m also entirely embarrassed to admit I sit and stare at the ocean every day from my window and haven’t yet gone all the way, in that is.
I live at the Shore Colony Apartments, which apparently used to be the site of a hotel before it burned down. I heard tale that it was there that a woman, a tourist, named our beach—Windansea.
I love living here. It’s smack dab in the middle of art, history and culture, and it sits pretty close to a free society. For months I’ve daydreamed about what it would take to preserve the building. You see, I had moved away from San Diego. Packed everything up in storage and spent the winter in New York, splitting my time between Brooklyn and Central Park West, thinking about the future and what to do with my time, life and energy. I said to myself that I’d come back when I’d found my place on the beach. It was a presentation for Qualcomm that brought me back, and when I saw the “For Rent” sign, I didn’t hesitate. I used to come down late at night to sit at Windansea on Neptune at Playa del Norte to watch the waves and think. Where else would I live but The Shore Colony? I had already staked a dreamer’s claim.
I love walking in my neighborhood. North towards La Jolla takes me into a tangle of historic and exquisitely designed homes, South leads to a few gems and into Bird Rock which seems to hold so much energy.