Is anyone else enjoying these Dermitage ads as much as I am?

First of all, don’t click on that—it won’t take you anywhere.

Secondly, it should read “fewer wrinkles” (that’s for Brad).

And finally, who can tell me where to get the zombie flesh photoshop filter?

our alley

Shannon and I walked to the store yesterday—not to the store that’s a block away, but roughly a mile to Trader Joe’s because:

1. We’ve sipped of the Trader Joe’s kool-aid and can’t seem to go anywhere else
2. It’s a longer and more beautiful walk

Pacific Beach is a beautiful neighborhood. The houses here are small and very nicely presented. These days, it even smells good because of the spring blossoms.

I noticed throughout the walk that I like to look down the alleys that run east to west through the neighborhood. The setting sunlight kept catching my eye as it filled the narrow channels between the houses, usually silhouetting azaleas or palm trees in their way—an alley is an unexpected place to find such beauty.

But it got me thinking of the book Suburban Nation and the case it makes for alleys:

The alley is often criticized for its lack of neatness, but that is its essence: it’s where all the messy stuff goes. From garage doors to trash containers, transformers, electrical meters, and telephone equipment, the alley takes them out of public view, something that is all the more necessary these days with the advent of recycling bins and cable TV boxes. Also, by handling many of the neighborhood’s underground utilities, alleys allow streets to be narrower and to be planted with trees, which becomes difficult when water, sewer, gas, electricity, cable, and telephone are all placing demands on the front right-of-way. Alleys are also appreciated by the fire chief, since they allow firefighters another path to the building. Alleys may also provide direct access to backyard granny flats, giving them an address independent of the main house (like where Shan and I live!).

—pages 81 and 82

Perhaps our walk to the store is so beautiful because alleys allow our neighbors to keep their clutter off the streets and sidewalks.

I read Suburban Nation about five years ago and I still think about it all the time. If you have any remote interest in sustainable development and civil engineering, I highly recommend it. I also recommend living in a neighborhood with alleys.

A wise man once told me to “find something difficult to do and do it.” Upon quitting my job, I’ve dedicated myself to learn three difficult things: start a business, silk screen, and surf.

Surfing is, by far, the sexiest and most fun of the three, and I’ve found that it’s an excellent source of metaphors for how to do anything awesome. I want to share these metaphors with the world, so this is the first of what may be a never-ending series of posts about how learning to surf is like learning to [insert almost anything here].

Surfing metaphor #1: Going Surfing

I accomplished my goal of learning to surf last week (i.e. catching a real wave, standing on the board, and riding the wave for a period of time long enough to be comprehended by the human brain).

It turns out that I was on the cusp of knowing how for a long time, but had failed to do one really important thing—namely: go surfing.

I’ve been making half-assed attempts to surf for the past 3 years. I took a course at UCSD during my Winter 2005 quarter of grad school. A particularly rainy winter cancelled a lot of our classes that year and the course ended before I could accomplish anything more than getting up on some whitewater (the little piddly leftovers of real waves that break further out).

I went out about ten more times over the next three years, borrowing boards until a friend gave me one in February 2006 that had been abandoned by an old roommate.

Oddly, even having my own board for two years didn’t teach me how to surf.

Now I know that if I want to get better at surfing, I need to go surfing. It seems that living near the ocean and owning a surfboard doesn’t make you a surfer. Kind of like if you want to write a book, you should write one. Your pen and paper won’t do it for you.

A couple of things that kept me from going were the hassle of getting into a wetsuit and rigging the surfboard rack to my car. After three straight days of going out last week, I got better at squeezing into my wetsuit and realized that I can walk to the beach from my place. It’s a hike, but I prefer it to driving.

Regardless of the nuisances that try to keep me on terra firma, I know this: I will never regret going surfing. Experience always manages to teach me things that I don’t even know I’m being taught, and I somehow get a tiny bit better each time I go out, even if I totally suck (which I totally do).

I quit my job at Eventful a week and a half ago.

Shannon had been encouraging me to leave for a long time, for a variety of reasons that I won’t go into here. She was right (as usual), but I had to learn for myself, the hard way.

After a few months of failing to shoehorn myself into my role at the company, I realized that I should simply get rid of the shoe. Shannon’s thrilled and I’m really happy.

Now I’m taking some time to focus on a few creative and personal goals that I’ve been neglecting, all of which I’ll be writing about here. To give you an idea of what I have in store, expect a lot of posts about silk screening, surfing, entrepreneurship, and local food.

I dedicate this blog, and my life, to Shannon—my muse and inspiration, the person who asks the right questions, who mocks me when I ever doubt myself, and who refuses to pull me back down to earth.

Here’s to a very bright future.

(and a really good blog)