I am a little starfish and I need the sea to thrive.

Reasons why I love Monterey:

This...

this,

and this,
this,THIIIISSS...
and especially this.

So. As you might have concluded, and I hope you did, or else you are terribly dim, I have returned from my short venture to Monterey. It was lovely, like it always is. Cold, windy, rocky beaches; that is so fully where I belong. If you can count on one thing to be unquestioningly wonderful, no matter what, why, how, when, or where, it is the sea. The moment I was released from the car, he greeted me with open arms and drew me in and didn't let go for hours.
My mom yelled for getting so soaking wet. The rest of them had gone shopping while I stayed on the beach, and she had expected me to just lounge on the shores for one hundred and eighty minutes while the sea was just sitting there waiting, calling, sending welcoming rays my way. And I couldn't waste time changing into a swimsuit, I only had as long as the shops could entertain them to enjoy the ocean. Who cares if my impatient-ness resulted in waterlogged jeans?
By-the-by, by "them" I mean my grandma, my mom,
my sister:

my cousin:
and my other cousin.
Plus me. Coincidentally, this is the only picture I have of myself, and I edited it up. Oh well.
There's a small beach right next to Cannery Row, where they were off to do their second period of shopping during the evening. My mom didn't want me to get all wet again, because we were going to eat dinner in a restaurant, so she didn't let me hang out there. Even after I promised to not even touch the water, to hold my breath so I wouldn't be able to smell the salty fishiness.
We both knew I would break any vow once I got the damp sand squishing between my toes.

Ugh. I want to go back already. I want to live there. I want to get married on Fisherman's Wharf. I want to die in a little sailboat in the choppy waters off the coast of Monterey. I want to go back there.