Today, the room is filled with people...marketing people, photographers, the quiet guy holding the light bounce for the photographer, therapists, the guys teaching the therapists, people peeking through the window in the door...and me. All of them, i'm sure, looking on with a heavy sense of pride, and here i am, walking for the first time in eleven and a half years, in a robotic exoskeleton, and i'm feeling like i'm letting everyone down. I want to impress everyone so badly that it consumes me. Not to mention all the other emotions coming along with the fact that i am actually freaking walking right now! My mind is fielding things like being at eye level with everyone, looking down at my legs moving, looking in the mirror, self conscious about how tiny my legs are. Literally, my head is swirling with emotions.

My brain and the muscle memory of walking naturally are taking over and messing me up. Your brain doesn't forget. I want to let my momentum carry me into each step instinctively like normal, instead of waiting for the robot to engage. I'm leaning too far forward, wanting to go faster. I want to run. I envision it, but it doesn't go the way my brain wants to. I actually try to put my foot down where i want it, compensate aggressively for the movement the robot does in actuality and almost take a fall. "OK lets regroup," the guy teaching everyone is nervous for my safety. Walking in a robot is super cool, but physically not the same motion. Its a different muscle memory and when i mess up everyone seems to be frustrated that i'm not doing as well as they hoped. So i feel like a failure. When they let me go at my own speed, i seem to do better and i voice this. Instantly, the sinking feeling that they disagree consumes me. Do they think i'm just prideful and i'm blaming it on them? Totally off because i'm sure they totally think i'm great, but i automatically jump to the assumption that they are thinking something negative about me. I do this with everyone, all the time, and this time is no different. Every blog i write, every tweet, every post, every speaking gig, every sentence i utter, i need to trust myself all over again. When i do this without reserve, my quality of life has a knack of improving. Hm...life lesson?

Then i realize, i'm not the student here! This whole day is not about me. Its about the therapists. They are the ones being taught here and i am just a guinea pig, a subject of study. If i walked in this thing perfectly and already knew everything, then the therapists would have nothing to study and i'd be useless. In order to be presented with the opportunity to assess, they need something to assess. They need to study all types of students, learning tendencies, awkward circumstances, near falls, etc. The fact that i just want to go, am moving too fast and am not afraid of falling, is the curve ball that puts them in the situation where they need to accommodate for those tendencies and adjust their teaching methods accordingly. My faults put them in the situation to learn. My flaws make me perfect. The brain never forgets those either, its all a matter of reprogramming...but that's a whole other coffee talk, isn't it?

The bear-like snoring coming from the foot of my bed comforts me. A car drones by in the darkness every few seconds. My heavy eyelids put up a good fight. I'm exhausted from another day of rehabbing, but this blog screams at me to write it. The train bellows into the misty night, its empty cars chasing the huffing engine over its long metal ladder. The idea started a few weeks ago, but I didn't know how to write it without sounding like a complete A-hole and it hit me earlier today. Those of you who know me, have heard me talk about my paralysis as a gift. Simply put, I can just go do the things I love and people seem to be stoked in a huge way. My gift. Well, this doesn't just apply to my paralysis. It's a mindset that permeates into everything. Its all or nothing really. For example, the gallons of snot flowing constantly from my nose a couple weeks ago, stirred some frustrations within me. I hate being sick! It sucks! I angrily elbowed the paper towel dispenser in a bathroom after completely emptying my nose and then three seconds later dealing with another snot explosion. Ugh! Then it hit me. "At least you can blow your nose. Be thankful for that." I have a few quadriplegic friends who can't. Not only that but they can't scratch an annoying itch or pop a zit or a thousand other things I take for granted having operating fingers and some semblance of abdominal muscles. Being upset at anything is usually just a matter of perspective...and the American, affluent first world, way is mostly blind of this perspective.

Now, here's the next thing. This mindset is not easy. I'll be honest, it's not fun being a paraplegic sometimes. Let's just say this: it's not just my legs that are paralyzed. Just explaining reality here. This mindset has become survival. The reason it's all or nothing is imagine what would happen to me if I began to dwell on the daily tasks. If the half full glass began to empty. It would cause a catastrophic shift. That's the alternative and, for me, it's not worth it. Feeling sorry for myself would make my life suck. So, when I'm struck with any type of adversity I can now put this spin on it: It makes me better. Because what is the most important thing in life? Having fun? Enjoying yourself? Not in my opinion. I say building character is the reason I'm here. Looking back, what do I remember most? That perfect surf session? That unreal powder day? That night I laughed so hard with my friends my abs hurt the next morning? NO! It's the times I was broken. Those are the memories sitting starkly in my memory, as a gift reminding me of who I am, shaping me into the man I want to be.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that you probably expect this of me. You expect me to be that kind of positive guy. Well, why do I need to choose this and sit back while others squander their gifts? This means you. If I am going to find the light in every "difficult" thing, day in and day out, even when I don't feel like it, then why can't you? I'm talking about everything from spilling coffee all over the counter to your phone breaking to sitting in traffic to loosing your dog to catching your spouse in bed with someone else to being paralyzed from the neck down. Everything...little and large. Adversity is an opportunity to choose your highest path. It is why you are here. Your opportunity to face the darkest parts of yourself head on. Your Gift. All it takes is teaching yourself to see this while in the middle of it all. That's the hard part, but I believe in you because the human will is a very powerful thing.

It's been a long battle, these last three months. Somehow, someway, a Staph infection made its home deep in my spine and moved quickly. It literally ate one of my vertebrae and part of another. How does that happen? I mean, exactly how does an infection find a vertebrae and eat it so quickly? One MRI showing nothing and then another three weeks later corralling all types of doctors into urgent action. I've never heard of anything like this and the doctors have no clue how it came to this, but here i am, two major surgeries later, healing, fighting back, as my beside lamp from home softly illuminates this white stale room.

Rewind three months.

Water (sweat) fills my ear and i awake in total panic. I'm under water! I fight to breathe and swim, but realize i'm in a bed. Confusion. I don't know who or where i am. Delirium. Complete amnesia. I'm scared. "Somebody help me!" Expletive after expletive, i scream into the salty darkness. Soaking wet and freezing, survival mode takes over and i tear off my shirt, burrow into the wet blankets and cry myself to sleep.

That's what the fevers did to me and when they started, my appetite stopped. Five days with no food and a good friend, fed up with me, bought me a thermometer. This was the thing that finally told how high my fevers actually were and when the 105 degree crash landing into the ER happened.

My spine needed to be rebuilt and the surgeon needed to gain access through the side of my chest, remove a rib and detach my diaphragm to remove the leftover fragments of bone, crumbs from the table, and the other infected vertebrae. Cadaver bone was put in place, but during surgery i lost too much blood so they had to stop. Waking from that surgery was a nightmare. Fear. Claustrophobia. Pain. Unable to move. Every breath excruciating. And you can count out sleeping too. I think I went five or six days without sleep.

The next surgery was seven days ago and the surgeons are amazed at how fast i've recovered. The stationary bike, resistance bands, weights, stretching, and throwing the medicine ball around all have me exhausted and it feels good. I was sick for so long. My appetite returned a few days ago and now i can't stop eating. I'm pale and thin, but my resolve feels strong as ever. The next few months of rehab will be very difficult, but i'm fighting back.

This has been the biggest mountain i have ever had to climb.

Life Lesson: We manifest what we want for our lives, but getting there might not look like what we expected and most likely is very painful and difficult. Relish the journey no matter how difficult it is. There is beauty in the struggle.

Expansiveness. Dramatic snowy mountains forever. Scores of untouched pristine golden blue lakes. Towering peaks dwarfing this mountain, which dwarfed others below. Seeing the other side for the first time stole any words. Surreal. But thankfulness consumed me, as i sat on top and i struggled to seem interested as Charlie pointed out various lakes and peaks, rattling off names...so full of knowledge. All i could do was look at him and think what an incredible man he is. His light out shining the unreal scenery before me. Looking around at the crew, it was all i could do to hold back my tears as i considered what all these people had gone through to fulfill a dream of mine. Each one of them, now my friend for life.

Leading up to this expedition, the thought that turned my stomach into knots was the consideration of skiing this thing. Stories coming back of steep treacherous rocky no-fall zones, scaring the most expert of skiers, and it was this thought that now began to creep up my throat. I was scared. Did anyone notice the deep breaths i was taking or my hands shaking? Climber Matt Waugh made the announcement i was dreading, "OK guys. We gotta start thinking about the descent." Instantly, in hearing those words, i almost threw up, my stomach tightening up with a gag reflex i did my best to hold back. My mouth tasted pasty. My eyes welled up.

Everyone rose to the occasion, bustling about, focusing on getting me all together. Could they see what a wreck i was? I was doing my best to be brave. The crew cut a ledge in the snow on the steep slope for my sitski and three grown men braced me so i wouldn't tip over as i followed my very meticulous system of getting all strapped into this crazy metal contraption. I refused to look down, the lump in my throat growing bigger with every difficult swallow. When i was ready to go, i got my balance and told the boys i was good. "Are you sure?" "Yup," trying my best to be brave and they let go of me. When they cleared out of the way, i could see down this thing for the first time. It was so steep that i could only see to the first pitch, the snow rolling over into nothingness, how the first explorers imagined getting to the end of the Earth was like. I looked around and got approval from everyone that it was time to go and the moment that tormented me for so many months came to fruition. Never mind my body in a state of depletion, i had to pull myself together because there was only one way down. It was time to let go and drop in, so i turned my head downhill, took a deep breath, leaned into gravity and let my ski lead me...well outside my confort zone.

Instinct took over and i immediately arced a turn easily in the smooth spring corn snow, edging to a stop and falling over into the hill, my ski barely holding onto the steep pitch. Everyone cheered! I did it! It actually wasn't that hard. I could totally do this. We all had agreed that i would ski with a rope attached to me so that if I did take a fall, i would not go the distance. Charlie would need to let out enough slack for one turn at a time so i had to come to a stop each turn. That's not so bad, except that when skiing steeps, the first turn is the scariest. Every time, i had to take a deep breath and lean into my instinct. Slowly but surely we inched down the face. I got a little frustrated with myself at one point because i knew i could do this but faced difficultly overcoming my fear a few times, taking a long time to initiate the next turn. I lashed out at myself, immediately apologizing, feeling embarassed for not being positive and thankful.

Eventually, we came through the rocky areas where the couloir opened up and i felt comfortable coming off the rope. With approval from the crew, we took the rope off and i skied that thing, seemingly bending my ski in half under the force of my turns, sending huge waves of snow into the air. It felt SO good, skiing with my friends in the backcountry. Just writing it brings me to tears. I guess my one thought is that we spend so much time making our lives as comfortable as possible. Well, what if life's not supposed to be comfortable?

"Time to go, Jer," the expedition leader's voice from outside the tent in the waning morning light letting me know it was go time, but i wasn't asleep. I spent the restless night in all my gear, boots and everything, so that when this moment came, i would be ready. I couldn't eat, too nervous and nauseous and early, so i pounded a Rockstar for my caffeine fix and let my destiny begin to unwind. Time to put our stamp on the world.

The day began with a hellacious fireman carry over a boulder field to the edge of the snow where my little sled waited. I mounted her, after the guys sat me down gently in the snow, harnessed in and the climbing began immediately...one pull-up at a time with 2000 vertical to conquer. Not sure what 2000 vertical feet translates to in actual distance, but it meant a lot of pull-ups for me and my muscles were not awake yet. Everything hurt. Still in the early morning shade, the rock hard snow provided little resistance and we moved along quickly. I couldn't believe how much i hurt though and pessimism set in. I didn't think i could do it. The top of the couloir loomed overhead ominously, watching, from what seemed like miles away, so i just put my head down and breathed...in and out...timing my pull-ups with my breath, pulling the ascender to me with every exhalation, resting when i could no longer pull it to me and thus creating the rhythm that i would suffer through for almost six hours.

Climbing was all business. I was focused. The climbers were focused. The camera guys were focused. And i'm sure the members of the sherpa team hiking up the ridge with my sitski were focused too. For me, getting from point A to B, one pull-up at a time, one rope length at a time, was all i could concentrate on in that moment. Focusing on the next anchor point, slowly but surely inching up that massive couloir. All the while, the slope getting steeper and steeper and the view growing, becoming more expansive and breath taking. At the end of each rope length, when we reached each anchor point, i would stop to rest, turning around to soak in the view, and i was blown away at how dramatically it changed and grew. Each time we stopped, we could see more and more. I had flown over the mountains in a plane before, but this was different. Indescribable. Unreal. It took a lot of energy to twist around to see everything, so i spent a lot of time with my head down, face in the snow, letting blood refill my arms. I found myself, in my pain, focusing on individual snow crystals sparkling in the sun. They were just as beautiful, seemingly smiling at me as i lived my destiny, proud i was there to acknowledge them in a place where no paraplegic had ever been before.

At the steepest point, when things were the most difficult, i heard voices from above. It was the sherpa team! They had made it to the top from the ridge line and we were now close enough to hear them! They waited anxiously for their rendezvous with us. I had been so focused i didn't even realize we were almost there! The thought of connecting with them gave me strength. Although i was depleted, a strange energy came over me. Suddenly, I felt fresh and pulled myself along with a renewed fervor as if i had all the energy in the world. Then, as i neared the summit, they came into view and a very different reality from what i had felt the night before began to overcome me: i was going to make it. I reached the final anchor point and collapsed in exhaustion. Charlie, the lead climber, jumped on top of me, our tears flowing together, everyone's cheers echoing over the Sierras.

Sitting on top, seeing what's on the other side, taking photos, embracing everyone, shaking hands, signing the register and enjoying a very symbolic PB&J sandwich, seemed surreal. The moment of so much focus for so many people for so many months had arrived and i felt God's delight as the sun warmed my tired face. We enjoyed our time up there, but soon another reality took over. It was time to ski this treacherous thing and i was scared.

Descending Bloody Couloir in my next blog...

The Surf Checker came into being out of my desire to get around town and run down to the beach to check the surf without using my car. Everything is a little too far to walk but too close to drive. Its all bike distance. I have a bike. Well i have two. I have a lot of toys, but my downhill bike is pure downhill, no drive system. Unless there's a hill, it just looks cool. My road bike could take me everywhere but once i'm there, i'm stuck. Its not functional for life and really just likes to go straight. Could you see me in the grocery store on that thing? Um...no. That would be weird. Good because you never will. I guess i could tow my chair behind me, but that's a bit too much of a production, even for this hammy Leo.

So i had this desire to figure something out. Then, one brisk November afternoon, while on a walk around a Colorado neighborhood with my niece, it hit me. She ran off into the bushes for some crazy reason in her kid head, but handed me her little Razor scooter to watch over. "Hold this, Uncle Jeremy!" and ran off. I didn't care. A hefty beer in my hand and the rugged scenery filled me with content. Then i remembered seeing a guy in a chair ride one of these things before. I stuffed the beer in my crotch so it wouldn't fall and precariously held the scooter up with one hand while i wheelied over the top of it using my other hand. Have you even done a one-handed wheelie before? Can you roll forward holding a beer while doing it? I can. Once situated on the death mobile, my front casters sat perfectly just off the ground and i was able to use the scooter's steering and brake to control myself. I took a refreshing sip of my beer, released the brake and started to roll downhill. To my surprise it was really easy. "Uncle Jeremy! What are you doing?" A yell came from the bushes. "I'm experimenting." She ran along side and we got going pretty fast. "I want it back now." "OK hold it while i dismount." She scooted off and i sipped my beer...the wheels in my head turning.

When i returned home, i researched electric scooters. Once i figured what i needed, i started shopping on Craigslist. Finally, i pulled the trigger one night and bought one. A well lit deserted parking lot made the scene for the experiment, after gorging myself on an Animal Style 3x3. It was awkward. I could ride it but my chair would not stay in place and i actually fell a few times. It was heavy too. Much bigger than i thought it was going to be. Lifting it into the car was a bitch. So the next day, i was resolved to figure this thing out. A ratcheting motorcycle tie holding it all together and a bungee acting as a steering damper pulling everything back to center did the trick. I am now running with my dog. Sometimes we charge through the nearby trails in the middle of the night, headlamp pushing through the dark thick ocean night air, dog galloping behind in the dust, me giggling. The thing goes 15mph ya know? Not only that but my sans-car-reach is extended. I can jet down to the store or beach quickly no problem. I take it on the bus too. People trip out. The thing is bad ass, but i've kind of off roaded it a little too hard. Surfer Checker 102 coming soon...

See it in action right here in the newly released Drop In Teaser! There's a quick shot of me riding it in the beginning. Makes me laugh every time.

Well, here i am and all it took was deciding one day to stop seeing my dreams as distant ideas that will probably never pan out. I decided to believe that i AM that guy right now. I want to write a book, travel as a motivational speaker and make a show that inspires people. I want the autonomy to take off on obscure adventures to remote corners of the globe. That's who i am. That's my dream so that's what i'm going to do. That's when things changed. When i stopped focusing on how i was going to get my windshield fixed and started focusing on the dream, everything literally started falling into place. I started being who i'm meant to be. I jumped into the flow.

My good friend uses the term surrender. "Surrender to your higher purpose," she says. I call that letting go of fear. Letting go of everything that holds us back. Everything that tells us we're not good enough and makes us stress about menial things. Our dreams are not distant. They are right here and all we need to do is stop fighting them off by not believing in ourselves. Don't MAKE it happen. LET it happen by simply doing what you love every day. Do what you feel you are meant for and things just seem to fall into place. Not only that, but when someone believes in something full heartedly, shit gets done.

So, in light of all this, i was in Mammoth filming for the Drop In trailer a couple weeks ago and i had to totally check myself while shooting. You see, i have this child inside that just wants to go play in the snow. Well, this was work, not play time. The entire reason why i had traveled all that way was to shoot. So, on a perfect powder day, we were scheduled to film at the chair lift for a couple hours. Pushing back and forth, over and over again, to get the perfect shot and all angles, I grew ancy. I just wanted to go ski. After all, it was my first day out there all season. Then i checked myself. The voice in my head, "This is your passion. You are living your dreams right now." Wow! That's when it hit me. I'm out on the snow filming...shooting my dreams...and THIS is my job. I literally laughed out loud in delight. Not fucking bad at all.

Do what you love.

The producers showed up at my place not early but not late, about mid morning. We discussed the plan, they played around with the equipment (which the technology of blows my mind) and we began shooting promptly. First priority on the shot list was surfing and everything involved, so after a few life b-roll shots, they captured me loading my big ass board into my 4-Runner and we were down at the beach pretty quickly. The day before, the surf was overhead and the dark sky swirled around. Now, not even 24 hours later, the small surf gently lapped the shore and the sun warmed everything. Much different. Not exciting surf conditions, but perfect light for our project.

Now, i can get my board to and from the water completely solo, but it doesn't happen very often. On a given day, i show up at the beach and 90% of the time some benevolent stranger grabs my board for me. That's the beauty of Cardiff...the people. This day, although i was surrounded by film crew, we were documenting my lone plight to and from the water so no help whatsoever. Depending on the tide, getting down to the water involves a few hundred bar dips. Now, add weight. Dragging the board is a whole other ball game. Especially, when i get down to the sticky wet sand. Like i said, i got this. No big deal, but in a given day that's it. I do that and i'm done. Hot shower, lunch and maybe a nap. No cycling, pull-ups and swimming after. This day meant all the above. You see where this is heading?

The water always feels refreshing at first touch. It covers my hands as i maneuver over the sand and instant excitement always rushes through me no matter what the conditions. I love the ocean. This session was fun and mellow. Small playful waves and the comforting warmth of the sun making it all that much nicer. A telephoto lens on the shore and a waterproof camera at the break captured it all. Even my first little lipper i've ever done since sitting down out there. My roommate and i took off on a waist high right together and as it closed out between us i thought 'I want to put my board up on that lip.' So i did. I bottom turned, propelled my board up the wave and the crashing whitewater rebounded me back into it. After the reentry, the left reformed and i rode it almost all the way to the sand smiling. My first lipper as a butt boarder. It feels good to be getting better.

We shot some paddling, some wipe outs in the shore break and then the hike back up the beach. I feel like a sea turtle inching along. Only i don't have any eggs to lay, just a seriously large board and an unshakeable resolve to get from point A to B regardless. After a hot shower and lunch it was time to head to the gym. Physically, i was spent already, but didn't say anything. This had to be done.

The first shots at the the gym were of the stationary hand bike. I love this thing. Honestly, i call it the lab rat cycle. That's how i feel. Everyone stares and the fluorescent light blares down. Its not inspiring to me, but it is my version of a pure workout. I always talk about the simplicity of throwing on running shoes and heading out the door. That's beauty and i miss it sometimes. Everything involves massive gear and a shit load of preparation, except this. I roll up and start cranking. Simplicity returns.

Now, the director wanted me red faced, sweating and grunting so although i wasn't supposed to get a workout doing this, we turned up the intensity to get it right. After 25 minutes or so, they got the shots and i got tired. Next came pull-ups. Yikes. "Really guys?" Yes, this was happening. After 50 or so pull-ups they got the shots and i wanted to collapse into a little ball in my mommy's lap, but did my best to keep my composure. I might have been tired, but i has happy. Stoked as could be filming what i believe to the purpose for my little life here on this Earth. Fueled by passion, i gritted my teeth and we headed out to the pool to film some laps. I had a little left in the tank still.

At first, i was disappointed because it was now late in the day, the sun was setting and i felt the light was no longer good. Not only that, but the pool was full of people and commotion and i thought the producers would be bummed. A water polo game, shrill whistles, crowd noise, an obnoxious father, swim lessons, lap swimmers, nervous mothers, old men in speedos, lifeguards switching shifts...it all seemed overwhelming, but once the pool lights flicked on the shot became me doing my thing at all hours in the midst of it all. Brilliant.

One producer was in the water with me and i felt as if we were dancing. We've shot together quite a bit now and work really well together. He bosses me around and i like it. No questions. No bullshit. I get clear direction from him and know exactly what he wants. He doesn't need to make it flowery and nice for me and i respect that. This was different though. We were in the silent water passing smoothly within millimeters seamlessly anticipating the other's intentions. I loved it. I'm not gonna lie though. My left arm did not like it. It got very angry and was screaming at me to stop. This was very close to my threshold. By the time we finished, i could barely lift myself out of the pool and the hot tub never felt better.

From there, the crew setup a makeshift studio at my place where we collected some VOs and filler shots. A hot spicy chai giving me a slightly rejuvenated edge, just enough caffeine to be dynamic in front of the camera despite my affliction with a nearly comatosed state.

All-in-all, the day was a success and i'm excited to see the teaser edit when its all finished. It should gain tons of support for the Drop In Project. To read more check out www.facebook.com/dropinproject. Like it if you like it and spread the word.

Thanks for being interesting and staying interested. Ski ya later!

My summer began in June when i decided to sleep in my buddy's garage in Cardiff, a bustling little surfer town in North County San Diego. We arranged his things, hung sparkly wall coverings and put down a nice rug to make it more homey, homie. Of course, this ambienced shed had an ocean view and a bathroom. Niice!!! I could urinate and look at the ocean. Many sleepy afternoons were spent watching whales pass by in the distance without even lifting my head from the pillow. Pretty damn sweet spot...even for a garage.

The shower was being used as storage though, so for the first month or so, i showered at the beach, gym and friends houses. Sometimes i would sneak into the campground across the PCH after the guards left for the night for a quick rinse. Remove the shower from your house and guaranteed any fresh water hitting your body feels ten times better. Funny how taking something so simple away creates so much appreciation for it. I try to imagine my life without things like that once in awhile...running water, a refrigerator, my car, legs...just to remind myself to be thankful. I forget. We all do.

Garage or not, i lived the dream this summer...surfing almost every day, enjoying the sun, surviving on nothing and simply bouncing from moment to moment. What a life! I figured out how to get across the sand solo with my big ass board and that changed everything. I could now just go surfing without texting and tweeting and facebooking and harrassing everyone in sight to help me. Autonomy.

This is a monumental transition for me which i can only just begin to explain. Surfers will somewhat understand because they know the power of the ocean...especially if they've grown up with her...but the depth of the pain while sitting and watching is unexplainable. The ocean called and i was driven to answer. The difference this summer? I opened my mind.

It's a matter of simple physics. Wheels and sand don't mix. Now, all of a sudden, fighting to push my chair through the sand and thinking i needed some expensive elaborate contraption or a grueling piggyback ride from a tired friend became obsolete with a simple, yet powerful, thought. Why does any place need to be "wheelchair" accessible? I have arms. I can get anywhere i want to. Why does my chair need to go? A seemingly simple concept, but for some reason i was blind to it for ten years. So i left my chair behind...and my life changed.

A couple very simple devices changed everything too. A minimalist wheelie cart got my big ass board from the car to the sand and a quick releasable fin enabled me to drag it through the sand and paddle out from the shallows. Thats it. I'm surfing solo.

I kind of lost sight of things for a little while there, but the ocean runs through my veins and a hug from her reminds me of who i'm meant to be. Being close to her this summer brought me home. What a summer! Do what you love.