This past weekend, an aquaintance was in town for work, so I played tour guide and we headed out to the Drift. Typical stereotypical Hamptons bullshit - which is turning into the usual for me. However, Saturday was different. Instead of being immersed in a high school reunion, and drinking myself stupid, I was showing this friend my side of the Hamptons. Coming from Brooklyn, it was certainly different than what he was used to (and, me, in a way) - and I felt like I was seeing this crazy, nutty island through new eyes. People made their jokes - I guess seeing a guy with full sleeves, a pompadour and a tight white tee was as hilarious to them as it was for him to see all the "Chads" in their popped collars.
When the bar closed, and the sun was coming up over the ocean, we ran into the ocean and swam, letting the sandy, salty water attempt to wash the booze and grime from us. Standing there, in the water, still completely loaded, I saw just how gorgeous it really is out here. When you strip it all down (both literally and figuratively) it's breathtakingly beautiful. If everyone who is out here, local or not, can just see the beauty and simplicity of the beach, and the community, without pretension or competition, i'm confident it will remain a peaceful, relaxing town. Then again, I think it's too late for that.
7.14.2008
7.01.2008
the story of the hurricane
Maybe there is a reason there are High School reunions every ten, twenty, thirty years ... and then they taper off as everyone moves on with their "real" lives. Don't get me wrong, I adore my childhood friends - they have seen me as the kid who fearlessly rode her sled over the cement at the sump, they have seen me as the wild child at beach parties drunk on stolen gin, and they are the people I really have some of my fondest memories with. However, when is the fact that you spent the first 18 years of your life with people not enough?
I like to think of myself as the elusive, mysterious one. The one who got out of town and never came back. Obviously, that's not happening. I'm stuck here until the end of the summer (if not longer the way things are looking). When I was away, other than a short "hi" message on myspace, or a meetup at a holiday or funeral, I had no contact with most of the people I now see on a daily basis. And, honestly, that was okay. You can love people and not see them - you can love people and not talk to them. (Hey, check out my most recent ex! Zing!) It just was, as we found ourselves, we found and created our own lives. Mine was made up of sweet southern dive bars, cheap beer, and loud music. Theirs was made of all the things our lives were like in High School.
It's nice to come home, to feel a part of something. This will always be home, and we will always have our childhoods to cling to. Besides from a select few (I think I can count two, maybe three) there's nothing left. There's nothing to base a real, grownup friendship with. Sure, we go out drinking together, and they hook me up at their bars, and we share cabs home. It's great. But at this point, I feel like the vacations over, and again, it's time for me to leave this sweet/horrible place and move somewhere I can be me - not the person I was growing up. I'm different now, i'm more bitter, less crazy, more cynical, less hilarious. That's okay, that's growing up. I'm just sorry if I dissapointed anyone when I came back a bitter, jaded, tattooed wanna be redneck.
I like to think of myself as the elusive, mysterious one. The one who got out of town and never came back. Obviously, that's not happening. I'm stuck here until the end of the summer (if not longer the way things are looking). When I was away, other than a short "hi" message on myspace, or a meetup at a holiday or funeral, I had no contact with most of the people I now see on a daily basis. And, honestly, that was okay. You can love people and not see them - you can love people and not talk to them. (Hey, check out my most recent ex! Zing!) It just was, as we found ourselves, we found and created our own lives. Mine was made up of sweet southern dive bars, cheap beer, and loud music. Theirs was made of all the things our lives were like in High School.
It's nice to come home, to feel a part of something. This will always be home, and we will always have our childhoods to cling to. Besides from a select few (I think I can count two, maybe three) there's nothing left. There's nothing to base a real, grownup friendship with. Sure, we go out drinking together, and they hook me up at their bars, and we share cabs home. It's great. But at this point, I feel like the vacations over, and again, it's time for me to leave this sweet/horrible place and move somewhere I can be me - not the person I was growing up. I'm different now, i'm more bitter, less crazy, more cynical, less hilarious. That's okay, that's growing up. I'm just sorry if I dissapointed anyone when I came back a bitter, jaded, tattooed wanna be redneck.
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