Isn’t it terrible how easily we stay organized these days? I’ve got three planners on my computer, a calendar on my desk, a phone organizer to beep tasks at me, text message obligations, meeting reminders, and several makeshift to-do lists scattered about at all times. It sounds rather impressive — I know my mom’s proud — but the problem I have with all this organization? I surf, rendering it all quite useless.

It doesn’t take a bombing swell to send me off the rails. At any given moment I’m only a few steps from breaking some commitment to check the shorebreak. It’s a bad habit, but one I’ll not outgrow anytime soon.

Take this month’s magazine, for example: We had a smashing book ready to send out the door. It was planned, researched, written, shot, laid out — all on time. And we don’t do nothin’ on time. We were organized and killing it. But just as we were waxing up for a long weekend to celebrate our first deadline hit in years, photographer Nate Lawrence called and ruined everything. Thank God.

On a whim, Nate had darted to Western Australia and met up with Ry Craike and friends to chase a swell. What they captured in the desert was good enough to throw our best-laid plans into disarray. We hurried back to the office, hit delete and started all over again — rushed, frenetic…and disorganized.

And that was only the beginning. Soon Dane Reynolds called and proposed a makeshift premiere of his new DIY surf film Thrills, Spills and What Not in a Huntington hotel room, months before the movie’s public release. Naturally, we canceled some other stuff and watched Dane with Dane instead. Then Julian Wilson released his long-awaited blockbuster Scratching the Surface one night later, and we couldn’t resist those fireworks. Sorry, planner.

We chucked associate photo editor Jimmicane on an airplane to Indo at the last minute. Kai Neville called looking for a place to crash and we obliged with an empty couch, in the process learning a bit about what he’s got cooking (awesome again — we’ll fill you in very soon). Then photographer Tom Carey called from Mexico and said Matt Meola was down there doing judo airs on command. Love it! Make room for Matt. Then a few dreamboats showed up and we really got distracted: boards from Xanadu, Channel Islands, Mayhem and Bert Burger at Sunova. We couldn’t just let them sit there, so we arrived super late to some meetings, no-showed a couple corpo gigs, and surfed the hell out of our new foam pals.

Just like that, a monotonous month got flipped upside down and shaken like a baby; we’re totally late and all the better for it. If you’re reading this now, it means we somehow got the job done. Enjoy — but if you feel the urge to drop the magazine at any point to go do something spontaneous, we completely understand. We’ll pencil you in for another time. —Travis Ferré

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