Journal 1

Just about 3 hours south of here lies a town with miles of beaches, tacky tourists, and a solidified circle of close knit friends. I grew up in a small town southeast of Jacksonville, Florida called Ponte Vedra Beach. Home of the Players Championship and too many chatty Kathys. The usual crew of moms sipping bloody marys at the Inn and Club never let the gossip stop pouring. It seemed like it was more potent every weekend, especially as summer was on the rise. As the editor in chief of my high school yearbook, I found much humor in incorporating all of these details about this place we called home into a 400 page piece of art. Ever since I was a freshmen in high school, I always wrote a synapses after each summer and recapped every last detail. Everyone knew that Ponte Vedra Beach was small, sometimes too small. The love for my town and where I grew up with friends I have known my entire life, made every topic in yearbook and enc1101 so much more easier to write. I did not always have a passion for writing. It was always dull and seemed so unworth my while, until my freshmen English class. My teacher, Mr. Blackford was a total surf bum and related Romeo and Juliet to a half pipe but in all of the nonsense I found something inside of me that wouldn't let the words stop pouring out.