and now for something completely different
Maybe that should be my blog title. That or addiction because I clearly have a problem writing too much. Ah well, I know some of you keep reading anyway.

I've decided to try a new approach. Well, not entirely new because this is still my diary, but different. I'm going to try and write on a topic. I often manage to do this but maybe attempting it consciously will help me think creatively. I'm a journalist... it shouldn't be that hard. In any case, this is still a personal journal, so many entries will be random conglomerations of personal details, timelines, events, stream of consciousness thoughts, and non-sequitors. All of it, of course, utterly out-of-context.

Let's demonstrate the different ideas, shall we? Starting with a complete non-sequitor:

While I was writing just now I suddenly started thinking about my grandparents' old house in Royal Oak, Michigan.

stream of cousciousess: They moved out of that house about a year before I left Michigan but for some reason I was just reminded of the dining room, the way it smelled, what the light looked like, how we all had Thanksgiving dinner there and, for some reason, what the Cranberry jelly and stuffing tasted like. I also remember the back yard... even it smelled like Grandparents. I used to ride a Big Wheel around that yard when I was really young and, sometimes, my grandmother would stand on the back porch smoking a cigarette. She must be proof that you can still smoke and live healthily to an old age. She certainly is doing better than my grandfather.

I'd probably better stop with this stream now, as I'm sure it could go on forever. On the other hand, doing that sometimes might be just as productive for creative energies as theme writing. I was going to write on a topic though... new things

event: I started scuba class last night. I didn't really realize how excited I was to be doing it until the class started. Lecture runs Tu/Th from 4:30- 5:45 and I have a 2 hour pool session from 6-8 on Tuesday (though I may switch to Thurs b/c less people are in that session).

personal information: I'm taking the class for several reasons. First, because I love the ocean. To me, it is the earthly incarnation of the Mother Goddess. All life stems from the sea. Without water we would die. Water is both our mother and our life. I worship it and fear it and to be a part of it the way that diving makes you is something I've always desired. Secondly, Justin and I have plans to go to Belize this Christmas with his family. I don't know what will be happening because his dad and Beverly split up, but I hope we end up going. I want to dive the Blue Hole.

timeline: So anyway, we learned some basic techniques in class last night. How to strap a tank to your vest, how to set up a regulator. What not to do. Every time we leave an air tank standing upright and walk away from it, we have to buy the instructors a soda. After we set up the gear and got into the pool (with a buddy) we learned how to operate the regulator and took our first breaths under water. Holy shit was that cool. Really, though, it didn't strike me as that strange. I've always felt that I should be able to breathe under water. It's a shame it takes a thirty-seven pound tank to let me do it. What I did find funny, however, was learning under water. There's a standard set of hand signals the dive instructors use to get you to pay attention, listen, and repeat. I felt like Flipper learning for fishy snacks. More than once I almost cracked up... but you really can't laugh under water. Hell, if I smile it leaked water into my mask. Guess I need some Botox. : p So last night we learned basic swim technique, breathing, how to let go of the regulator (always exhale, never hold your breath), how to clear the regulator of water, how to find the regulator when it goes floating off, and how to fill and empty goggles with water while under the surface.

thoughts: We had some play time too, in the deep end, and I learned that while SCUBAing you don't swim with your arms. Huh. Who'da figured? If I just swam with my legs while under water normally, I'd probably get tired fast. But swimming with arms while geared up makes one feel like a fish OUT of water. I also learned that I need to stop pointing my feet and kick with my LEGS. I got Charlie Horses in my arches like nobody's business. It took a while to breathe deep and relax but when I did, it was great. I sat splayed on the bottom of the pool, thanks to the weight belt, and watched everyone swim around. I played with the inflator and floated, crosslegged, halfway to the surface and back down. Oh the things you can do! Three more pool sessions, seven more classes, and we're off to the coast to get certified. Apparently if you can dive in the freezing, musky waters of Oregon, the tropics are like the pool. I don't know whether to be ecstatic or terrified. It was both easier and more difficult than I thought it would be. And after two hours in a 79 degrees pool, I was VERY cold. Mostly, I think my apprehension comes from the slight discomfort of all the gear . I clench my teeth on the regulator, I try to swim with my arms, I point my toes. I need to think more like a fish, not a woman! All in all though, I greatly look forward to the next few weeks.

Awkward transition, tries to stay on subject anyway: I think what makes SCUBA so great is that it's really utterly unlike anything I've ever done before. I think I'll really love it after I get into the ocean and I'm really in my element. That's something I've been waiting for all my life.

Aside or Social Blodding: Thanks to Katie for the books on Wicca.

(ok, I have to stop dissecting and categorizing this post, I hate it)

After reading through the first book she recommended, I've decided to become a practicing witch. I've always been hesitant to actually dive into Wicca because of the stereotyping that went along with it- simlar to my hesitations about Christianity or any other religion. The single difference between Wiccan and any other "religion" is that I really don't have to "convert" to be official. For all respects, I already am Wiccan. The system I've build around myself, all my practices and beliefs, are already pagan. I don't have to try very hard to qualify myself. The only thing I've lacked so far is a concrete understanding of traditional rituals and practices... those I keep inside are of my own design and equally legitimate. For all intents and purposes, I've been working magic ever since I was a little girl. Reading through this book was like reading a manual for my life. I realized that while I wasn't raised Wiccan, I raised myself that way. Being with Sian (who was a member of a Circle since she was very young) helped a lot. Believing in the Old Magik helped more. All it takes now for me to confirm my beliefs is an official declaration of intent. I figure I'll give it a shot and see where it takes me. All the underlying essences of Wiccan are already within me- I wonder what a little focus will do. Of course, my parents would kill me if they found out- and I intend for them to find out eventually, just not now.

A few interesting thoughts for the day, to conclude this most random post:

- There was a train "parked' on the trestle that I bike under on the way to campus this morning. It was a rather strange train... each car was a flatbed and on top of each flatbed was a truck. Not just the stackable boxes you see on some trains, but the entire rear of a truck, wheels and all. A lot of the trucks said "Dole" on them and I wondered if there was fruit inside. As I biked under the trestle, I heard a curious noise, rather like a lot of trucks running. It was then that I realized that the trucks were refrigerator cars and had their cold systems turned on. I wonder what was inside? yum...

-As I look out the window toward the east, I see a man perched in a bare-branched old pine tree, forty feet off the ground. They're removing the tree because it's dead and probably unsafe. He's chain-sawing off branches and watching them plummet to the foot of the tree with a SMACK. I wonder if he's afriad of heights. Even though he's roped up there, when he swings from branch to branch, does he fear for his life? Does it thrill him or has he been doing it for so long he hardly even cares?