Waved at Santa Cruz. Smiled at some waves. Drank 5 coffees. Really loved the concrete. Really felt the vibes. I think some very true part of me is all things Santa Cruz. You might not care that I had a great slice of pizza followed immediately by a swift restroom experience.
I really struggle with this whole write down my story thing. I don’t know how this doesn’t get all ranty and crass. Start covering up my emotions with funny one liners. Find my way down some intolerable philosophical rabbit hole. Explode with too much joy. You probably care more about my “adventure” than any of this mumbo jumbo. But this space is for me and I’m gonna let it go where it freaking wants.
I’m a real person and not some wild adventurer, and the honest highlight of my tour through Santa Cruz was this first picture. Santa Cruz makes me feel so damn cool. Like so damn cool. I love finding furniture on the side of the street. I think it always looks so ironic and perfectly placed. It’s huge inspo for my Family Room imagery. Plus if you throw in some hard Cali cross light and a concrete wall I’ll just drool at it all damn day. But like the cool tasteful gawking.
Fun fact and quick side note: My girl Sally has turned finding gently used furniture into the most hilarious trash picking side hustle. It’s brilliant and so is she. You’ve never truly lived until you ride down the street with her and feel the rush of hoisting someones trash into the back of her pickup truck.
Back to the story: Basically you should know that Santa Cruz is really special to me for no special reasons as all. I guess that’s the mark of a truly great place. I feel home the most in those places. Room to spread out and be myself. Find the other people also being themselves. Thanks Santa Cruz for being very chill.
When you’re on the road or hell when you move to a new place you’re granted this permission to become a new person. Try on a different lens. It’s one of best parts of moving in my opinion. But honestly just go try it for yourself if your curious about it. It doesn’t matter what I have to say about any of these things or places. Travel or don’t for the reasons you want to or don’t.
I’m writing all of this down for me, so I can stop judging myself. So I have a place to share my voice. Those squirly neurotic little bits. It’s incredibly cathartic to plop it all down and push publish. Let you judge it however you fucking please. Words have historically tripped me up. I still can’t seem to get big feelings to come out of me without an ocean of tears. I was always a pretty introverted kid, and kind of just did was I was told. I naturally gravitated toward picture making and loads of other crafty things. I still love hiding behind a camera instead of being in the moment. To observe a room full of people is quite an intoxicating rush. It’s a gift and a crutch that camera.
More and more lately I find myself wanting to step into the dance leave the walls at home. Being yourself is all that counts. Just go do whatever you fucking want. Please. No one cares. Go live your life.
Onward to Monterey, CA for the night. I booked a hotel there, found something to soothe my incredibly upset stomach, and prepped myself for a morning drive through Big Sur.
