you are here.

so, this weekend at the beach. i've tried to collect my thoughts, arrange everything into some sort of order. it wasn't just a beach vacation, and it wasn't just a time to get some sun and drink some beer, though i did both to the fullest extent of the law.

this weekend was my first glimpse into how the other half lives. i literally can't imagine growing up spending my summers in avalon. it's a postcard-town. there's a perfect main street with perfect farmers' markets and seafood shacks; rich teenagers in their land rovers everywhere you look.

more than anything else, though, what was good about the trip was the opportunity for silence. dear readers, you may or may not believe it when i tell you, but i talk. a lot. i talk a lot. sitting by myself on the deck, though, smoking a cigarette while everyone else was inside or on the boat, i had a chance to do something i never do: shut up and be alone with my thoughts. it sounds so pretentious as i type it; but if you could've been there with me, standing wrapped in a beach towel on the edge of a salt marsh, watching the rough, bright green grass get whipped by the wind, you'd understand. i stood there, away from the city and crowds and smog and dirt for the first time in a long time, and i thought, remember this, robert. breathe in. you are here.

that's the lesson i've tried to take home with me from the trip: to place myself. not to spend too much time up in my own head, but to be present in the space that i'm in. maybe this is all getting too heady--which is what i just said i was trying to get away from. old habits die hard.