Port Dickson: Random Ramblings

Written at 6:43pm, 30th of January at the Port Dickson Yacht Club

Ten minutes ago I was digging a hole in the sand.

Just diggin'.

It all started when my mom called. We were at the Port Dickson Yacht Club (where I was fulfiling my duties as a good son by spending time with my family) and I had just pinched a loaf when my mother rang.

"I need you to come down to the beach to watch over Hizrin (my brother) whilst I go copy a recipe in the library."

Fair enough. Moments later I was stood at the shore of the beach watching my brother swim under the watchful eye of our housemaid. A few minutes passed and I hesistantly sat down. I wasn't dressed for the beach and the thought of sand riding up my crotch and infilitrating my Vans made me very careful about the whole affair. After a while, I decided to dig a hole.

First I used my hands, carefully at first, so as to not get sand under my nails. After a while I didn't give a fuck and just kept digging. And digging and digging.

Then I noticed my brother's sand-toys.

Using his 'scand scooper' (as opposed to a shovel. Why didn't my parents buy him a toy shovel?) I started scooping sand, non-stop. Just scooping and digging and watching the hole get deeper and scooping and digging some more.

And, strangely, it was the most relaxing activity I'd done in a long time.

After months of trying to finish the movie, this simple act of digging felt incredibly euphoric. Time stood still. Everything else around me was meaningless. All my worries, all my doubts, the noise of surf and the children playing, the heat, the glare of the sun as it set before me, none of this mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the hole.

I wish I could describe exactly how it felt - Meditative? Satisfying? - or why I was digging the damn thing in the first place, but I can't put my finger on it. Was I looking for something? Did I expect to find something special hidden underneath all this moist sand? BUrried treasure? A Turner seascape? Or perhaps a new idea? Inspiration?

Whatever I might have been looking for I never found it. My mother came over to tag me out and I went to the club house. As I walked away all my 'sand-concerns' popped up again and I walked carefully over the soft white as the sun set behind me and a club sandwich awaited my arrival.

Strange. When you've stressed yourself out over a project to the minutest detail the most mundane activities are the most refreshing.