Yesterday was my last day at work.


I'm going to miss it.

Log Books!

One of my favorite things about sitting in a tower is the log book. We write contacts, conditions, and various other things that go on during the day in it. It's also a way to alleviate boredom. I have compiled a list of the best "notes" that end up in the "notes" sections of the log books.

July 10, 2008; SS
1400: Out of towner claims she saw a "pack of sharks" (aka Arizona sharks aka dolphins)...

July 25, 2008; SS
1650: Learned to whistle.

July 30, 2008; SS
We are strangers again!

June 20, 2008; TP
1520: Poke squid.

July 19, 2007; TP
1300: Caught a girl riding a guy like a horse. Wonder if I witnessed the conception of a child? Will he be able to surf?

July 27, 2008; DMS
1200: Seal, possibly dog, in surf zone.

July 23, 2008; DMS
1403: Grow up-->get thick--> ? -->keep it real
1700: Boat?

June 28, 2008; DMS
Large rip in front of tower... no, seriously...

July 12, 2007; TP
"more kelp than sand" --Unknown Poet

July 2, 2008; DMS
You know, sometimes I like wearing jeans and wifebeaters in the water...

Hole contacts...

"Is there a rule against digging big holes on the beach?"

Shit shit shit, I was zoning out. Repeat what you said, I wasn't listening. Okay, just pretend you didn't hear her, she'll ask again.

"Excuse me, but are there rules against digging big holes on the beach?"

Ohhh I heard you that time. Awesome.

Thinking the woman toting a caravan of children wanted to dig a big hole on the beach, I smiled down at her. Hah, I love being a lifeguard. I get to be taller than everyone.

"There aren't any rules against it, as long as you don't dig it in front of my tower..."

But Helicopter Mommy interrupted me.

"Because I just saw a documentary on KJDFLKJJHGFSDLKJDFUTYWUYGVX (or whatever fuckin' acronym they're using these days) News about a high school kid who died when the hole he was digging collapsed."

Yeah, he was probably drunk. "Well, we don't have rules against it..."

"You should." She stalked off.

Excuse me? So not only am I interrupting natural selection by even doing my job (a force of nature I believe in very strongly, in fact), but you want me to enforce a "no hole-digging" edict on the beach as well? In addition to "no dogs, no glass, no alcohol, no smoking, no sitting by the bluff, etc"? What was really disturbing about this exchange, however, wasn't that this mom was concerned for her (multitude of) children's safety, but she expected me to parent for her. Rather than saying, "Okay, cunt-dropping A, don't climb into holes, because they may collapse on you," she wants me to fill in all the holes on the beach. So am I supposed to yank people out of the water because someone might drown? No, that's ridiculous-- but it's essentially what this woman wanted me to do. And the worst part is that Helicopter Mommy is going to produce selfish, entitled little brats that take and take and take, and do nothing good in the world.

I've got sunshine...

Good news! Unlike last Monday, I am decidedly sober today. Woooo, go me.

Today was slow. But I have tomorrow off! Yay!

I'm working a lot less in the coming weeks. Which feels weird. It's actually not that much less. I'm working 32 hours this week, and 40 next week. Then I'm going to Las Vegas on the 18th and the 19th, and then for the 21st-25th I have a friend in town, so... that's 24 hours the week of the 18th, which is my normal week cut almost in half. Which means less money, but more breathing space. Breathing space before school is good, because if I didn't have it, I'd go back really burnt out and that would be a bad plan. Anyway. My day was interesting.

I told a young woman with a lip piercing today that dogs are not allowed on the beach. She looked down at the yipping punt-a-puppy in her arms, and looks back at me, and goes, "seriously?" No, fuckwit, I'm just kidding, actually. Take your fashion accessory on the beach and have fun! God, do people think I make this shit up for the fun of it? You think I want to sit in this tower and police the beach? If I wanted to be a police officer, I'd have gone through the police academy. And then I'd have a gun/tazer/big-ass stick to beat people with, which would be much better than having to talk sense into people. Also, sweetheart, your scrawny-ass, tattooed boyfriend doesn't intimidate me. I HAVE tattoos. I HAVE piercings. They really aren't that intimidating for me. In all actuality, I want to hook a leash on his septum ring and tether him to the tower. Lol. Now I'm giggling at the thought of a scrawny, tattooed, punk-rawk-super-bad-dood tethered to my tower, whinnying.

Oh man.

My memorial to you.

The worst part about losing someone isn't the loss itself.

We don't feel pain equally. The worst part is understanding that as much pain as you're personally feeling, those closer to the person who is gone are feeling something more intense. Something more terrifyingly all-encompassing. It's empty and it's gnawing and it never grows smaller. There's a bubble in my chest that squeezes my lungs when I think of you. You were so good. And so genuine.

I hope you weren't afraid. It's the last thing I would wish for you-- I hope you died in peace, without pain, without fear. I can't imagine you afraid. I don't want to. Because imagining you afraid makes me so aware of how cowardly I am. When I think of you I see the parts of me that should be better. I should be stronger. Run faster. Push harder. Because I can. Because this is fragile-- it's all fragile.

It was impossible not to like you. You had life by the neck and you were shaking it. You were light and color and energy. I never saw you sad. I'm trying to understand this, but intellectually, I know there's nothing to understand. It is what it is. We'll change the world for you-- no, we'll rock the world for you.

Live life.

Love life.

We miss you.