#The_Notebook_5
From Summer Session Writing
I remember the airplane lifting and me wondering when exactly does the airplane lift itself up. I remember seeing airmats under the other campers' tent. I remember seeing the absence of an airmat under mine. I remember the exact contour of the ground under me as I slept and my careful position not to slide off. I remember Alladin freezing as Javar sent him to the end of the world in the Santa Cruz movie theater, and pitying him because I could almost feel the cold. I remember the ending credit roll up and thinking I didn't want to leave because this black room with a hundred people inside was warm, while the night in the campground would be freezing again. I remember Ed telling me that surfing was a martial art. I remember his garage filled with surf boards of all shapes and sizes. I remember planning out my life as Ed showed me his pipeline photos. I remember the sun bleached hair and tan skin of local Santa Cruz surfers. I remember shouting out that there were sea lions next to me and nobody hearing me over the crashing waves. I remember a wave spilling exactly as I had tried to make one in my modeling project. I remember tall waves breaking perfectly a few hundred meters away, and thinking the song lyric "the grass looks greener on the other side." I remember getting caught in effortless somersaults like I was a small prick in the ocean rather than a 50 kilogram bulk. I remember the board hitting my nose and the wave sending it to me again and again. I remember looking behind and seeing the swirl of sand in the wall of dark water. I remember imagining a hunter keeping distance with a rushing wolf pack. I remember panicking for the first time under water because I couldn't find the surface. I remember the "eating shit" because the waves were breaking too close to shore. I remember sitting on the beach trying to finish "A Room of One's Own" because all afternoons were free time. I remember Stanley, one of the surfing instructors, telling me about him, and thinking that I had never been so fascinated by somebody else's life. I remember a lot but I can't connect them into an essay(yet).
“Hey, there are sea lions over here!” I shouted over the crashing waves of Manresa beach, Santa Cruz. Nobody heard me. I looked around for my instructor Stanley, but he was helping out Noah, a twelve-year-old San Jose boy. When I looked back, the two smooth, black heads were sticking out of the water and now staring at me with curious black eyes. "The waves are extra high today, so you want to be careful." But they would know better then me, I internally corrected myself. They would know even more about these waves than local surfers like Stanely. As though proving my thoughts, the sea lions easily left the breaking zone, while the rest of the campers of the summer surf camp struggled to hang on their boards. "Do you want to catch the small one coming right now, or do you want to catch the big one?" Stanley asked as he paddled out toward me. "The big one," I said, as I lied down on my board. "You sure?" Stanely raised one of his sun-bleached eyebrows. The wave was only a distant swell, but even while peeking through my disheveled and drenched seaweed hair, I could see from its unusually dark and high peak that it was a wave that I had never before enctountered. Smaller waves broke near the shore and were easier to ride, but those waves lasted for only a short while. What was the fun in that? No thanks. I hadn't flown all the way to Santa Cruz for that. "Yeah, I'm gonna try and go for it," I said as I tore my eyes away from the intimidating swell. "Great, now wait for it..." (paddling - falling - conclusion?: for some reason I always get stuck in the conclusion. They're always anecdotes and not stories with plots and twists..)
I remember the airplane lifting and me wondering when exactly does the airplane lift itself up. I remember seeing airmats under the other campers' tent. I remember seeing the absence of an airmat under mine. I remember the exact contour of the ground under me as I slept and my careful position not to slide off. I remember Alladin freezing as Javar sent him to the end of the world in the Santa Cruz movie theater, and pitying him because I could almost feel the cold. I remember the ending credit roll up and thinking I didn't want to leave because this black room with a hundred people inside was warm, while the night in the campground would be freezing again. I remember Ed telling me that surfing was a martial art. I remember his garage filled with surf boards of all shapes and sizes. I remember planning out my life as Ed showed me his pipeline photos. I remember the sun bleached hair and tan skin of local Santa Cruz surfers. I remember shouting out that there were sea lions next to me and nobody hearing me over the crashing waves. I remember a wave spilling exactly as I had tried to make one in my modeling project. I remember tall waves breaking perfectly a few hundred meters away, and thinking the song lyric "the grass looks greener on the other side." I remember getting caught in effortless somersaults like I was a small prick in the ocean rather than a 50 kilogram bulk. I remember the board hitting my nose and the wave sending it to me again and again. I remember looking behind and seeing the swirl of sand in the wall of dark water. I remember imagining a hunter keeping distance with a rushing wolf pack. I remember panicking for the first time under water because I couldn't find the surface. I remember the "eating shit" because the waves were breaking too close to shore. I remember sitting on the beach trying to finish "A Room of One's Own" because all afternoons were free time. I remember Stanley, one of the surfing instructors, telling me about him, and thinking that I had never been so fascinated by somebody else's life. I remember a lot but I can't connect them into an essay(yet).
“Hey, there are sea lions over here!” I shouted over the crashing waves of Manresa beach, Santa Cruz. Nobody heard me. I looked around for my instructor Stanley, but he was helping out Noah, a twelve-year-old San Jose boy. When I looked back, the two smooth, black heads were sticking out of the water and now staring at me with curious black eyes. "The waves are extra high today, so you want to be careful." But they would know better then me, I internally corrected myself. They would know even more about these waves than local surfers like Stanely. As though proving my thoughts, the sea lions easily left the breaking zone, while the rest of the campers of the summer surf camp struggled to hang on their boards. "Do you want to catch the small one coming right now, or do you want to catch the big one?" Stanley asked as he paddled out toward me. "The big one," I said, as I lied down on my board. "You sure?" Stanely raised one of his sun-bleached eyebrows. The wave was only a distant swell, but even while peeking through my disheveled and drenched seaweed hair, I could see from its unusually dark and high peak that it was a wave that I had never before enctountered. Smaller waves broke near the shore and were easier to ride, but those waves lasted for only a short while. What was the fun in that? No thanks. I hadn't flown all the way to Santa Cruz for that. "Yeah, I'm gonna try and go for it," I said as I tore my eyes away from the intimidating swell. "Great, now wait for it..." (paddling - falling - conclusion?: for some reason I always get stuck in the conclusion. They're always anecdotes and not stories with plots and twists..)
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