Morning Rhythms: Salt Air and Self-Discovery

My alarm goes off at 6:15 a.m., but “alarm” is a strong word when it’s Jack Johnson crooning “Better Together.” It’s the kind of morning soundtrack that gently nudges you awake instead of dragging you out of bed. I lay there for a minute, savoring the soft orange hue peeking through my pale linen curtains. The ocean is more than a distant hum—it’s a heartbeat just outside my window.

Most days begin this way: with me slipping into an old sweatshirt, grabbing my journal, and heading three blocks to La Jolla Shores. Before the beachgoers and sunscreen smells take over, this salty sanctuary is mine. I plant myself cross-legged on a boulder, alternately scribbling phrases about the dancing tidepools and half-heartedly eavesdropping on seagull squabbles. This ritual might sound poetic, but let’s be real—there’s also sand in weird places and the occasional awkward stare from passing joggers who witness me gesturing wildly while brainstorming ideas.

Unexpected? Maybe. But there’s something therapeutic about starting the day with a pen in hand and briny air curling through your hair.

Mid-Morning: Coffee and Carbonated Wisdom

Once I’ve shaken off the beach sand (a Sisyphean task), it’s time for caffeine. I have an embarrassing fondness for froufrou coffee orders, and yes, I am the person who asks the barista if their seasonal lavender latte is “earthy or overly floral?” Sue me. The caffeine kick jumpstarts my brain for work, but I treat the coffee shop like a playground for people-watching.

There’s the usual cast of characters: the ambitious student in loud AirPods having what sounds like a TED Talk with someone’s voicemail inbox, and the couple practicing synchronized scrolling too early in the morning. It’s hard to look away, though—not from judgment, but because relationships in their natural habitats fascinate me. One time, I overheard someone ask their partner, “What do you really think about banana bread?” and honestly, if you’re not questioning life’s deepest layers, are you even in love?

No judgment if your mornings are more streamlined, but here’s a truth bomb: life gets richer when you lean into the absurd. Conversations about banana bread. Silent competitions over who claimed the comfiest coffee-shop chair first. These small details weave into the fabric of who we are—and who we choose to love.

Lunchtime Lessons: Kale Salad and TikTok Philosophy

I work from home, which means lunchtime is less about meal prep and more about seeing how quickly I can throw a kale salad together before doom-scrolling TikTok. There’s an ironic pleasure in watching 20-somethings embrace grand ideas like “romanticize your life” while I attempt to extract some cemented avocado from the back of my fridge. But hey, they’re not wrong. A little romance—even if it’s lighting a $5 candle for my kale—goes a long way.

Recently, I saw a TikTok that compared dating to tidepooling. Stick with me—it’s not as absurd as it sounds. Tidepooling is all about patience and curiosity. You don’t stomp in looking for perfection. You crouch, observe, wait until the hermit crab or sea star reveals itself. Some creatures flourish when treated gently and respectfully, not rushed. Dating is the same. Too often, we hunt for quick compatibility when the real magic lies in letting connections reveal themselves organically.

Afternoon Surprises: Writing Waves

Writing is supposed to look glamorous—me hunched over my laptop, bathed in golden sunlight, sipping Earl Grey like I might faint from brilliance. Reality? It’s a lot of me staring blankly at my laptop while my neighbor loudly FaceTimes her cat about how his litter box smells “off.” (I mean, she’s not wrong, but still).

When I hit writer’s block—and I always do—I wander back to the ocean. La Jolla’s rocky caves and kelp forests are like mood boards for creativity, bursting with metaphors just waiting to be plucked. I remember one time during a particularly frustrating breakup, I witnessed a pelican dive headfirst into the water, only to resurface with an empty beak. It tried three more times before snagging a fish. Persistence matters, I’d thought. Whether you’re fishing or moving on from someone who rolled their eyes at your favorite playlist, effort pays off eventually.

Here’s a tip: Whatever creative rut you’re stuck in, borrow from nature. Surf, snorkel, or heck, take refuge under an old oak tree. Relationships, like ecosystems, thrive when nurtured and examined from fresh angles.

Evening Energy: Paddleboarding as Therapy

Around 5:30, I trade my laptop for a paddleboard. Stand-up paddleboarding isn’t just a workout; it’s my version of meditation. Gliding across the flat Pacific feels almost like flying—or what I imagine flying feels like if you’re also paranoid about face-planting every three seconds.

This time isn’t just about fitness or Instagrammable moments, though I’d be lying if I said my sunset-board selfies didn’t slap. It’s also my way of tackling overthinking, which has a bad habit of creeping into evenings. When your most profound thoughts range from “Did I overshare on that date?” to “Are relationships even real or just capitalism in disguise?” you need something tangible to hold onto. For me, that’s a paddle—one stroke at a time, one breath at a time.

Also, paddleboarding has taught me this hilarious life lesson: balance is everything. Literally. Whether you’re juggling work, relationships, or the sudden realization that eating three tacos before sitting cross-legged on a paddleboard isn’t your best idea, balance is the name of the game.

Closing Confessions: Stars and Screens

Nighttime is my softest chapter. The dishes are done (because post-dinner guilt is a powerful motivator), and my string lights are glowing amber around the room. I’ll admit, I sometimes reread old text conversations—it’s like an archaeological excavation of past connections. Remembering silly inside jokes and vulnerable late-night admissions reminds me how much of ourselves we leave behind in others.

But here’s the thing: those little fingerprints we leave don’t just fade. They evolve. A joke with an ex becomes a lesson in knowing what feels like home. A compliment (“I love how you don’t overreact even when things go sideways”) becomes part of your inner dialogue, a soft boundary you protect within yourself.

Sometimes, my nightly ritual includes stargazing from my tiny balcony. I still can’t name constellations beyond Orion’s Belt (barely), but I enjoy projecting the romance of them anyway. I like to think there’s wisdom in the stars, probably snickering as we spiral over text replies like “sounds good” thrown in all lowercase.

The Takeaway: Intention Meets Curiosity

At the end of the day, my life isn’t perfectly planned. It’s a dance between scheduled rhythms, unexpected waves, and the occasional chaotic seagull encounter. But I’ve learned that approaching each day with a blend of curiosity and intention—whether in love, work, or my kale salad experiments—makes everything feel a little more vibrant.

Here’s my advice: don’t underestimate the power of a good paddleboard session, the honesty of ocean air, or the depth hidden in everyday interactions. Your day, your relationships, your path—it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to feel real.