Long Beach

There is something about Long Beach in the beginning of Autumn where the fog sets in and the chill of December rises from the sea. I have taken the extra effort to pass through 2nd St. instead of 7th St. because the view is much nicer and is not as depressing as the latter. Here, I find the commercial tourist district, where everything is over-priced but pleasant to the senses. It's all but intimate as I stop for my morning coffee and my two-dollar bagel. My only thoughts are of how time flies and that I will be late for the fourth time this week. I am a little irate by the fact that breakfast cost me $6.00. It's spare change, to be honest, but I find it daunting that this is how far I've come in life. I'm a city person always on the go, no time to sleep, credit cards in tow. My success is measured by the kind of coffee I can afford ($3.50 for a small vanilla latte and $2.00 for a bagel and cream cheese), by the job that I hold, the property I own, the value of my retirement nest. There is no comfort in this knowledge because I've set aside the things I value most. The harder I try to bridge this gap, the more difficult it is for me to slow down.

There is no motivation and I find that the faster I go, the limits are endless. I used to be content with spending time with my closest friends, having dinner over lost conversation. Now, we all watch the time, conscious of the traffic, tired from the mundane day.

I have much to look forward to, in truth. I am quite blessed. I keep reminding myself this.

If I don't, I will end up on a couch talking to a psychiatrist and 10 bottles of medication to keep me from jumping off a bridge.