sandbar in Dana Point Harbor on a winter evening

I Expected Too Much from You, 2022

I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed, 2022.

It’s been a year…for all of two months.

2022 has reared its psychotic head to the tune of minimal swell and maximum stress, which is why there’s been a real gap in blog posts (sorry). Grad school, day job and relationships have amounted atop my back and relentlessly beat it, gorilla status, into a pulp. I write for up to 14 hours a day sometimes…research literature reviews on women in generational leadership and startups pivoting, science-y technologies that make my neurons cross and more.

I think I need glasses.

And Advil.

Decent swell has left many a-SoCal surfers chomping at the bit, relentlessly waiting for those cold-water peaks to don the horizons of their local and not-so-local (read: Trestles) breaks. Sending me into full-blow cray cray mode, I sought opportunities to catch up on my thousands of other hobbies to give that gorilla a shift break from its task-beating duties.

But this feels good.

Maybe not like the warm rush of a solid, 73-degree water temp wave cycling under my feet, pulling my now hippie-status hair back against my bikini, but this right here. Feels. Gud.

Though disappointment—she hit me good this season, I gave it some more thought about where this word comes from.

*Puts grad student hat on*

Oxford Dictionary defines “Disappointment” first as a sadness or displeasure caused by the nonfulfillment of one’s hopes or expectations.
Synonyms may include: disenchantment, disillusioned, frustrated, unfulfilled

“Expectation” … let’s marinate on that. I’m talking cabernet, salt and pepper and New York strip steak status. Or garlic salt, bay leaf and black beans, for all your vegans out there.

What sets us up for this grave feeling of disappointment is that very word—expectation.
I do think it’s important to have certain expectations…but what about surfing?

Regardless of conditions—flat or firing—what are your expectations when you want to surf?

Salt Creek Beach Dana Point surfer

I expect you to not dodge this barrel.

When it’s firing, do you strongly believe that you will score loads of waves amid the crowds of wave-hungry folk?

I mean, I’m sure you can and do! Especially if you beat your chest like a gorilla at Trestles. I’m guilty of that, just ask some folks at Cottons. :-o

But is that the ‘tude you want to carry? And will smiling and being friendly necessarily get you waves? I know it usually does for ladies, most of the time. But for guys, not so…


On more approps and accurate conditions from 2022 so far—when it’s flat, or semi-flat, what is your expectation?

I’m not saying “abandon all hope ye who enter here” status. I’m saying marinate on the concept of expecting versus accepting.

This cheesy, but true statement has been plastered all over the Pinterest-sphere and modern farmhouse driftwood décor since 2010:

accept what is let go of what was have faith in what will be

You churn your own butter for that cheese? Accept this cheesy saying.

Accept that the waves will probably suck, let go of that last fleeting epic swell where you scored a stand-up barrel, and have faith that those barrels will be back to slot you or own you. 😉

Expectations deserve some marinade…New York strip steak, guys, NY strip steak….