I normally prefer to write on subjects such as marketing, social media, mustaches, public relations, Mr. T, and delicious unicorn meat. Today, however, I write about something altogether different.

My wife and I have had the good fortune of moving around quite a bit during our 17-year relationship. I say good fortune because it’s enabled me to meet a lot of wonderful people, experience different cultures, eat different food, drink many local beers, and poop in public restrooms of varying cleanliness.

Much of our time has been spent along the U.S. Gulf Coast. We lived in New Orleans and along the Mississippi coast from 1995-99, and in St. Petersburg, Fla., from 2002-05. And while living there, we lounged on beaches from St. Pete to Gulf Shores and Orange Beach in Ala.; visited the famed FloraBama bar on the beachfront border of Fla. and Ala.; I played in basketball tournaments in Birmingham; went to barrier islands off the coast of Mississippi; and fished off Destin, Fla.

Indeed, while I now live in the absolute center of the country, some 12 hours from the closest beach, the Gulf Coast is very much a part of who I’ve become, and who I will always be.

That’s why I find it so frustrating to see day-after-day media coverage of oil spewing into the ocean that I have so enjoyed and connected with during these past 17 years. And while I am not a sentimental mammal — and often rather callus — the current state of my Gulf Coast just breaks my heart.

When the explosion and subsequent oil leak first occurred, I immediately understood the magnitude, even if the flow of oil had been stemmed that day or week. But I don’t think that most people living away from the Gulf Coast can truly comprehend the damage that continues to be done. We’ve heard estimates that oil will continue to spew into the Gulf until at least September. Thousands upon thousands of gallons daily for five months killing wildlife, ruining marine habitat, destroying tourism, wrecking property values, and crippling the fishing industry for decades to come.

A friend from my New Orleans days — we’ll call him Fletch F. Fletch — told me, “for us down here who lived through Katrina there is the same slowly building anxiety over this that is beginning to permeate our daily lives.  It may sound silly but it really is becoming a challenge to stay focused on our jobs and our futures when we know the New Orleans / Gulf Coast area will likely never be the same again.  It is much the same upset stomach we all had in late 2005 when faced with the dilemma of moving back to a questionable New Orleans or relocating to more secure areas.  The magnitude of this, in the end, will be far more devastating than Katrina.  Katrina was a broken arm and leg.  The spill is a cancer death sentence.”

I think what bothers me so much is that it appears little is being done, Kevin Costner “Waterworld” remake be damned. It’s like a shaving cut that won’t stop bleeding. The oil just keeps on flowing into some of the most beautiful waters I’ve ever seen.

I’d like to blame someone. It’s easiest to point a finger at BP, of course. But I’m not certain what that would get me. We hear varying sides of the story from environmentalists, BP, Gary Coleman’s widow, and local, state and federal government officials — and we must assume the truth lies somewhere in between what they are all saying.

All I know is that I’m frustrated, and I’d like someone to act, so that before I die in 40 or 50 years, I can go back to my Gulf and see it as it remains in my memories.

Carry on.