mafiosa.

So, where's the line between being convincing, and being manipulative?  Between assertive and competitive?  Working in this industry sometimes taxes my brain in ways I can't begin to understand.  It's worse at times like these, when I'm working in the yard, and closer to the office, and closer to the politics.

I went in to talk about my current situation with the Offshore Personnel Manager today.  I needed to talk to someone, because I think I'm spending more time in the hotel than I am at home.  Or maybe in equal measure.  In any case, I have no balance right now, and my objective is to give OII a good chance to make it right before making any decisions.  I can't say I don't already have one foot out the door, but I also don't want to have to make a run for it, as that always seems to incur debt, by virtue of being an act of singular desperation.  I would love to make a smooth, easy transition.  Have I done that before?  Can I even imagine what it's like?  I'm really not sure, but I'll envision it until it feels so real I can totally imagine it.

Being in the office is always confusing though, because there are so many different stories to be heard.  I never know if I'm coming or going, or who to believe.  There's so much double-speak going on, and me, being far too honest, I never know how to interpret what's being said.

jiu jitsu.

I'm getting back to my roots, the roots of the dabbler.  I have a burning desire, since my last hitch on the Clear Leader, where I met an eager beaver by the name of Kevin, whose alter ego is a pro MMA fighter.  I've actually been thinking about it for a while, I don't know exactly why, it just strikes me as something really engaging and fun.

I went back to the shop today.  I am resigned to letting whatever comes in to happen.  I don't want to force and fix anymore, just want to ride it out and relax.

in(deed).

I've returned from my Caribbean cruise with the family.  There was no internet, and no phone available on the ship (well, there was, but the cost was exorbitant), which was actually really, really nice.  I can't say I've been without since last year when I was on a wee work boat for a week.  Although, internet would have been welcome in that instance, it was a pretty poopy hitch.  In any case, it was pleasant not obsessively checking my phone, or email, or facebook all the time.  I know I do too much of it, even though I don't really care, and don't hear from people often enough for the amount I check to see who's contacted me.  OCD, I tell you, I'm OCD sometimes.

Beyond this, the trip was wunderbar.  Oh, I totally overdid it, and my body is rebelling at present; and I ate too much, and didn't get enough sleep or nearly enough water, but at the end of the day, it was grand to have a vacay with the family that allowed for so much time together, but not so much as to drive me crazy.  It was also just really, really enlightening.  In the past few months I've been in intimate situations (not romantically intimate, more tete-a-tete sort of intimate, long periods of time spent in close quarters, with the same people, like on the transit to Africa on the Boa, and this trip with the fam), and have started to understand myself so much better.  I keep thinking of the Bob Marley song, "Running Away," certainly a remnant from our shore excursion in Jamaica.  But it's on my mind, that you can't run away from yourself, just like Bob says in the song.  One can blame shortcomings on others for only so long, until eventually comes the day when one has to own up and accept that the shortcomings are one's own. 

Family, I suppose, is the best mirror for everything we love and hate about ourselves. 

kyrie.

Long. Ass. Day.  It's never a good idea to go without sleep, and I've done it a few too many times in the past month.  I worry it will catch up with me at some point!  But mostly I think it's mind over matter, so I don't worry too much about it.  It's a bit uncomfortable though.  It would be better if I didn't drink when I've not slept, this is certain.  Drinking under normal circumstances is almost certain death, let alone when I've been up since 3am and traveling all day.  The best sign I'm shot: complete lack of coherence in writing.  Or maybe I'm flattering myself and that's actually quite normal.

In any case.  I arrived in Fort Lauderdale today.  Everything appears to be going smoothly. 

And... for all that rambling build up, I really have nothing to say.

sailing (takes me away).

I leave for the airport in a matter of hours.  I arrive tomorrow in Fort Lauderdale, in time for a bit of decorating, the groom's dinner; then Sunday, the early morning preparations for my brother's wedding, then we set sail.  Overall I'm really excited for the trip, surprising considering I spend most of my time on boats and rigs for work.  Nonetheless, it will be fun to spend the time with my family, especially my niece.  There's an added bonus of being on a boat for my time off, and that's a sort of enforced relaxation.

I'm beginning to realize how compulsive and neurotic I am when I'm on the beach.  I actually discussed this with a coworker tonight, and it was validating to know that someone I deem so sensible and good with money has the same woeful predilection returning from offshore.  I don't know where the money goes, I don't know how it's possible to spend so much in such a short time; it's truly uncanny.  I guess it's because you're always starting over with buying groceries, or maybe it's so appalling because you go from not spending any money to spending so much.  And maybe it's not so much, it's more that you've gone for a month without doing any shopping and then suddenly you're faced with so many options and all the freedom of being able to go where you want.  Or something.  So, I got sort of zen about it.  Because I've worked in this industry for 2 years now, and trying to force myself to change hasn't helped, so I sort of just observed it, and let myself be ok with it.  The idea of suspending judgement.  I still want it to be different, but realize in this (as in all things!), I continue to bang my head against a solid wall, hoping magically to form a doorway. 

If I have some cosmic purpose in this life, it's this: to let go of what the will wants to force, and be open to what comes in.

test.

I'm making a quick experiment today, nothing terribly exciting, just adding a blog entry via email.

I arrived on board the Discoverer Clear Leader today, a TransOcean drill ship.  The ship is new, only having arrived in the Gulf a few months ago, I think.  I'm working with a few former Boa Sub C guys, which is good.  I like being around guys who know what it's like on my regular boat.  The accommodations are nice here, more importantly, the beds are very comfortable.  I left the hotel this morning to arrive for transportation around 2:15.  I had a little sleep on the ride to the heliport, and had slept a bit yesterday afternoon, but once again I find myself in that odd limbo of not knowing exactly how much I slept for the day, or for which day, for that matter.

It's terribly cold here at the moment, has been for the past several days.  I always get the same response when I say it's cold, that, being from MN, I must be used to lower temps.  The thing is though, I don't spend any time outside when it's cold out in Minnesota, and this is such a distinction!  I'm guessing with the windchill today, the temperature outside was in the 20s, and the winds were really strong.  Today, being Sunday, is the day for a fire drill.  So in these poopy conditions, I got to stand outside for the better part of an hour.  And steel-toe boots do nothing to keep the toes warm; when the drill was finally over, I clumsily hoofed it back inside with my frozen and numb tootsies.

The... void that comes over me upon returning to the Gulf has dissipated a little.  I suppose it's the initial anxiety that comes with the anticipation of going offshore.  I'm fine if I go from one hitch directly into the next, and I can spend weeks offshore on the Boa, but coming from home back to the Gulf is painful, kind of heartbreaking a little.  After a few days it quietens, just sort of goes back underground.  That it exists, this discontent, this anxiety, I'm starting to see as a good thing.  Of course there are all the melodramatic ideas of never being able to have a good life, or the fatalistic that one doesn't deserve this or that, but recently, I've started to think there's a lot to be learned from having lived this life, for however brief a time.

shiny & new.

I came across a really good quote today, reading The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron.  I'd read bits of another book of hers, The Right to Write, but this other title was specifically recommended to me, and it seems to be her more seminal work.  I picked it up tonight and was struck by this within the first few pages:

And now either I can't find what I was looking for, or the quote that was so meaningful only a few hours ago isn't resounding in the same way.  Or maybe it was from another book I'm reading but cannot currently locate, which is entirely possible since I've got a stack of 8 books next to me.

Why do I have 8 books stacked next to me on the bed in a cheap hotel room?  Because I'm seeking a change, and guidance, in my life, always seems to come from books.  It's easy for your mind to get out of the way while reading.  Much less interference from a mind as overactive and chatty as mine tends to be.  A book that's good in this particular application is What Should I Do with My Life? by Po Bronson.  Basically a series of interviews, something of a modern-day Working (Studs Terkel), it's a great book to flip open when you're seeking a bit of insight.  The stories are short, but every one is the individual story of someone's choice of career, and no matter what story I flip to, there always seems to be some kernal of insight or inspiration just waiting there for me to discover.

I went back to work today, sort of.  I've been at the hotel since the night before last, but didn't work yesterday.  Last night, my ops guy called to let me know he'd found some work in the shop for me.  I went in today for about 3 hours, to help cut some tubing.  I spend the rest of the afternoon working on training modules.  I have tomorrow off, then back offshore Sunday morning. 

The question is how to make the transition.  I have a bit of the perfectionist streak in me, and it tells me not to go home because I don't have a home yet, or to wait until I have more money in the bank.  Experience tells me that I need to follow my heart.  Not foolishly, I want to have something lined up to go back to, but that I shouldn't wait until conditions are ideal, because they won't ever be ideal, or as ideal as I feel they should be to go back.  I think I spend more money working this job because it's always the feast of famine mentality.  Overcompensating for all the time I'm offshore, or trying to lessen the boredom of time on the beach, but not at home.  It feels too out of balance, I think is the biggest factor in wanting to move on.

I talked to a guy today at the shop, who always seems to be talking about how he wants to move on.  I realize that I'm also that guy, I'll talk this into the ground.  I get frustrated talking to this guy because he's like a broken record.  In fact, I get frustrated listening to him because I'm seeing my exact weakness in someone else.

I will dare.

I started thinking about writing in my blog again, maybe because I'm on the verge of doing something again. The next big thing, or something like that. What if the next big thing is to go back to the exact place where I started? It's sort of novel, this idea, actually. Because somehow, in the past 3.5 years, *normalcy has become novel to me. Novel enough, in fact, that I crave it, that I covet it, that I maybe even dream about it.

So I started thinking about writing in my blog again, because that's what one does, these days, when one undertakes something of note. I started a blog when I moved to California. I continued writing in the blog when I moved away from California to Louisiana, and I continued writing in the blog, on a somewhat regular basis, beyond that first year, and even into my second year in Loozianne. At some point I acknowledged the futility of trying to maintain an online journal during a period when my online access was spotty at best, and restricted my writing to a private blog when I was able, but more commonly to the draft folder of my computer's email client.

But here I am again, writing a new entry in my blog. Not because my circumstances have changed, per se, but maybe because I'm willing them to. There's been an internal struggle raging within since the moment I set foot in Louisiana. It's followed a few different paths, but its serpentine course seems to lead to the one place I've spent the better part of the past 15 years trying to get away from... home.

Funny to think about, the idea of life as a river. I spent a semester abroad, studying in the south of France. My roommate, Katrin, was from Hamburg, Germany. After the semester concluded, I traveled a bit, including a quick sojourn to visit Katrin in her hometown. While I was there, we spent a night lounging on the couch, watching movies with her boyfriend. We had chosen a popular movie of the moment, Fargo. During the course of the conversation that followed the viewing, two facts became clear: first, that Minnesotans do actually have a very thick accent (Following the movie, Katrin asked if Minnesotans actually spoke as they had in the movie. I responded in the affirmative, though acknowledging the movie had gone a bit overboard. Katrin's relief was evident, and she explained that she'd thought, when the Minnesotans would respond "Oh, yah," that we had been making fun of the German accent); second, that it's not common knowledge that, to quote a favorite Indigo Girls song of my college days, "The Mississippi's mighty/ It starts in Minnesota/ At a place that you could walk across with 5 steps down."

And so the course of life leads me back to Minnesota, or at least, I'm willing it to. I've lived so many places, and worked so many jobs, but there really is something to the idea of home being where the heart is. For all the technology available, for all the ease of access to email/ phone/ video/ social networking, at the end of the day, it's so lovely, and sort of irreplaceable, to simply be in the physical presence of those you love.

minnesota moments.

I had one of those lovely MN moments yesterday. I was in a small coffee shop in Pequot Lakes, visiting with a dearest friend and her new babe. The day's special was veggie chili, which, depending on the ingredients, had the potential to do some damage to my system. It's funny how easy it can be to assimilate mediocrity into one's life; for example, when it began to appear that Obama was going to win the election, I realized how little I'd actually allowed myself to hope that anyone other than a Repube was going to snatch it (though I did allow myself to fear the vacuousness that lies behind Sarah Palin's eyes). Yesterday, at the coffee shop I experienced a similar sensation of hope. When I asked the barista if she knew what was in the chili, the only response I expected, after months in Louisiana (aka customer service hell), was the LA standard: blank stare, (maybe) proceeded by a quick look around to see if anyone more knowledgeable is in the immediate vicinity, followed by an uncomfortable "I don't know." She surprised me however, and ran in the back to check, even coming back with a packet of the seasoning mix used in the chili. So sweet.

I don't feel like writing much these days. I spontaneously realized while talking to a friend a few days ago that I'm simply having an inward experience of late. I don't feel like talking about myself, or what's going on in my life, or any of it.

I would, however, love to hear all about what's going on with you ;)

time again.

2 more days and I drive away from Louisiana. At least for a few weeks, which nicely coincides with that lovely holiday of no obligations, save eating too much and being immobile for hours in front of the television: Thanksgiving. I'm not sure where Christmastime will find me, but I'm pretty excited to be back in Minne for turkey!

I'm in the last 2 days of ROV training with Oceaneering. The curriculum: 1 week Safety/First Aid; 1 week intro to ROVs; 2 weeks Hydraulics Theory; 2 weeks Electronics Theory; 1 week Piloting; 2 weeks practical (hands-on, in the yard) training. There haven't been any updates here because I haven't felt like writing. Still not sure where the hell I'm headed, and this job is most certainly not the ultimate destination, but I'm here and looking for the best in the situation, but don't really feel like writing about it much.

mini break.

Just a quick note. I'm in Florida this weekend! Gary invited a couple of us back to hang out at his place for the weekend, and to head out overnight on his boat. Unspeakable joy is my basic sentiment at this point, not to be spending another weekend in Morgan City.

I was remembering a story instructor Geoff told us once about how, when he was working offshore, he would come back from a long hitch and treat his girlfriend to a weekend in Florida. One of the guys in the class, a California native, queried how a weekend in FL could be much of a treat. Geoff, in his infinite wisdom, responded that, after living in Louisiana, FL was definitely a treat.

At this point, I would have to agree.

highest common denominator.

Here are some good things about being in Morgan City:

1. Oceaneering: is an amazing company that really, really takes care of its employees.

2. Gary & Will Ferrell (real name, Christopher): are 2 amazing guys in my class. Gary is ex-Air Force, originally from Michigan, lives in Ft. Walton Beach with his wife and son. We go to the gym weekday mornings at 6. Chris is ex-Navy (but only sort of), originally from somewhere in the Mojave Desert, more recently of San Antonio. He is the class clown, and looks like a young Will Ferrell. I think most of our class doesn't even remember his name because we only call him Will Ferrell.

3. The gym: is one of the few places I venture to outside of work and the hotel (other places are the grocery store and the laundromat). Since I have little else to do, I typically spend at least 45 minutes here before work, and at least an hour both days of the weekend. This is another perk of working for Oceaneering, as the company covers membership costs for employees.

4. Close proximity to FL: is nice because Gary has invited Will Ferrell and me out for a weekend on his boat! Plus, we'll get to meet his wife and 11-month old son, plus other friends. Need I say this will be a heavenly respite?

5. Time: is on my side, yes it is. And it's kind of awesome. I do get a bit stir crazy on the weekends, but it's nice to have so few distractions. It's been a bit of an adjustment to get back to a 5-day a week, 8-5 type schedule, but it's also nice to have some stability for a while. I'm continuing to feed myself a daily dose (or 2, or 3) of personal development/ motivational materials, and it's helping to keep my motivation high, and to keep my brain focused.

quietude.

I've become a complete recluse, but in the best possible way.

I arrived safely in Morgan City, just over 2 weeks ago. The drive from MN took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I arrived in plenty of time. My first stop in LA was to empty out my storage unit in Robert, where everything was dry and untouched by Gustav and Ike. Everything I own here fits nicely in the bed of my baby truck, so I packed up, hit the road, and headed south. Though it wasn't as easy as that sounds. There was a moment, several of them, in fact, after my truck was loaded and everything covered and bungeed down, where the rover in me (and the part of me who, prior to my departure from MN, was struck dumb and scared at the thought of not only returning to Louisiana, but to Morgan City, no less) couldn't help thinking about getting back in the truck and keep driving... out of Louisiana... But, in the end, I couldn't think of anywhere to go (except to Chicago, of course), so toward Morgan City I headed.

As you may know, Louisiana recently weathered a few bad storms. After the water rises during flooding, it obviously returns to more normal levels at some point, and what's left behind is real, real smelly. So on that day, when I was already one foot back out of the state (or, colloquially here, "one foot out the state"), driving my little truck with the windows open because my air-con doesn't work, and it's still blazing hot and humid here, I kept smelling some very. bad. smelling. funk. and the smell lasted for most of the 2.5 hour drive. The best part was that, through only some fault of my own (I'd explain, but it would take much too long), I ran out of gas along the spillway, which is the smelliest of smelly. So then I had to wait for close to 2 hours, in the heat and the smell to wait for AAA to arrive.

Anyhoo, eventually I arrived, unpacked, and spent the following day getting to know my classmates in the various waiting rooms of the Occupational Medicine clinic where we took physicals and drug tests. Online training modules began the following day at the training facility, and last week we were occupied with safety/ certification classes.

rest stop.

I'm increasingly impressed with the rest stops I've been finding along my route. I may have mentioned in a previous post that, during the drive up from Louisiana a few months back, I stumbled upon a rest area in Mississippi with a 24-hour security kiosk allowing rest stoppers to sleep in their cars, without fear of being mungled by ill-doers or harangled by the po-po. Today, an even awesomer discovery: an Iowa rest area with WiFi. Amazing, no?

So, I'm on my way. I awakened this AM round about 4:30, after a fitful sleep of about 4 hours. One last DBC latte got me motivated though, and now I've covered about 130 miles (a scant 1,200 more to go!!).

I noticed something last night, some kind of portent, perhaps, because you all know by now of my belief in such things: the moon is just about full, probably will be full tonight. The sky was crystal clear last night, and the light from the moon shone down bright in the yard, and I remembered that the moon was also full the night I left Louisiana. I'm not sure the symbolism, but I'm sure it must have something to do with completion. Because even though I'm a bit apprehensive about heading back south, I do know that it's time for me to move on. Time for the next big thing ;)

[And here I'll quote a little Tom Petty, because the song always pops into my head at times like these:

It's time to move on/Time to get goin'
What lies ahead/I have no way of knowin'
But under my feet, babe/The grass is growin'
It's time to move on/Time to get goin']

truth.

My eye has started twitching. Just today, or maybe yesterday, but it's twitching regardless, which is never a super-duper positive sign, because my eye only twitches when I'm stressed, agitated, etc. It's funny, because the past couple weeks have been some of the most emotionally draining I've experienced, and yet the twitching only commences now that the worst is past. Do you know what's making my eye twitch? It's the same thing that triggers an extremely virile urge to comfort-eat, the same thing that's given me the slightest sensation of panic in the pit of my stomach.

I'm driving back to Louisiana tomorrow.

I've been doing a lot of thinking in these 2 months since I've been back in Minnesota, I guess the generic term would be *soul searching. I've been reading, and writing, thinking, meditating, a lot of the things I haven't really kept up on since last I lived in Minne. I've arrived at some interesting truths, and not many of them bode well for my staying in the south, or working offshore.

1. I'm a different person now than I was when I made the decision to go to dive school.

I'm fairly certain that the person or entity who made that decision was an alien visitor briefly inhabiting my body, or maybe not so briefly. It seems to me that this particular decision, and many of those preceding it (namely any decision I made in my 20s), were based on the need to prove something. Initially it's easy for me to say I needed to prove this mysterious something to someone else, but I'm actually starting to realize it was me I needed to impress. Maybe it's the product of low self-esteem, or an over-active ego, or blah blah blah, but it feels sort of finished now. I don't feel like I need to be interesting, or unique, or brave, or whatever other quality I so desperately needed to have attributed to my person/exploits/adventures. I've done a lot. And I still do want to do a ton more, but I also want to be happy, and I think that has gotten lost along the way.

2. I want to be surrounded by people like me, and by friends and family who love me.

I feel sometimes like a dancing bear when I'm out on the rig, like a horribly obvious novelty. And you know, it's not that fun, and it's not super comfortable. But at the same time, I've made the decision to be there, and I knew what I was getting into, right? It's a confusing riddle I've riddled time and again, to no discernible solution. What has been amazing about these past 2 months is that I can dress like a girl, and I look like lots of other girls around me. I can get dazzled and dress like I want to, without worrying about my pants being too tight, or my tube-a-boob sports bra not being restrictive enough. It's lovely to just be myself, exactly how I want to be, without having to run the butch-woman mind interference.

Additionally, the offshore bunch are not, not surprisingly, the most interesting bunch you might come across, primarily because they work offshore, which can be extremely monotonous. Some are very nice, with families, and pictures of their kids, kind words to say, advice to give, [offshore] stories to tell, but, by and large, not the type I'd choose to hang out with. Back here, on the other hand (and don't get me wrong, I'm not ready to move back to Minne just yet. Rather, it makes for a nice contrast), I'm surrounded by my girls (and this is a big part of it- I have FEMALE friends and relatives here to talk to, and listen to, and open up to, and share with). Again, I think it really comes back to just feeling normal, and being with people who are like me.

3. I'm pretty sure I can find what I'm looking for in another, more suitable, profession.

I hate to say it, but I think a force majeur in deciding to throw myself at the feet of the burly gods of commercial diving was money. I do like diving, I love diving, in fact. I love to be underwater, even when it involves a heavy-ass dive helmet, and being verbally abused by my salty instructors via crappy comms. I love doing stuff underwater. But what I really liked about commercial diving was the possibility of diving and making decent, and eventually even good, money. And this, of course, is never appropriate motivation, especially for someone as flightly as me.

There are other things too, like working in an international industry, and being scheduled on rotation (though this has become a glass-half-empty issue: a month off is awesome, but that month on is brutal), and even working in this industry (though I think I still romanticize this more than I need to). But it's such a boy's club, and I don't think I'm the woman to infiltrate. Geoff, one of my dive school instructors, put it to me this way once, that to become a diver, you really have to want it, and I think that probably applies to working in the industry too- you have to really want it. I really want some of what comes with working in the industry, but I also think that what I want could easily be found somewhere else.

4. I don't want to work for someone else.

It's amazing the stuff you can learn and accomplish when you don't need to worry about going to a lame job every day.

I think this understanding can be directly attributed to my dear dad, who, in the movie of my memory, is often seen extolling the perceived benefits of working for oneself. I guess it sunk in, or maybe it was that my stubborn and independent nature has just always had a natural bent in that direction. After all, I'm a hard worker, and I was raised by folks who worked for the same company for years. Yet, somehow, even during those early high school years, I just could not get behind the idea of going to the same lame job (whether that job be hostess at the local Perkins restaurant, or my OJT class), even when, clearly, I really should have kept going (eventually I got *fired from that Perkins job, and OJT class was the only class I ever failed). Fortunately, over the years, the urge not to go to work has magically transmuted itself into a love of comfort eating, which has happily sustained me for these many years, in many unhappy jobs.

Note, though, that I'm not quite ready to say "I want to work for myself," though it is, of course, implied. Baby steps and minor gradations from one to the next.

5. And finally, the idea of service...

I'm starting to think that life has a whole lot more meaning than anything I've been getting out of it. I mean, aren't we all just trying to find ways to feel happy, and fulfilled, and connected to the world around us? Of course, all the above statements are simply arguments to myself to justify that, once again, I might have to look the career horse in the mouth, and move on.

But the more I turn my attention toward the learning most compelling to me, the more this idea of service keeps coming up. I won't say too much more, because ideas are still incubating. But I think what I keep looking for in my work is to find the best use of who I am, and my guess is that an industry where I feel I need to keep myself under wraps most of the time is not a place where I can let my strange and girly light fully shine.

picture.

I've been reading up a little on Gustav and Katrina. I'm a little in awe that, on the 3rd anniversary of Katrina, which came ashore as a Category 3 hurricane, and claimed 1,800 American lives (1,500+ in Louisiana alone), the state is again declaring a state of emergency and calling for mandatory evacuations. Gustav is scheduled to arrive Monday morning as a Cat 4, and this time, not even the SuperDome will be available for refuge. The city is evacuating, and if you choose to stay, you're on your own. It's disconcerting to read that there are people planning to stay, due to limited financial resources. I make no bones about LA not being my fave place in the world, but still to see so much damage from Katrina, and to talk to people who lived through the ordeal adds another dimension.

I may not love the place, but my heart goes out to all those who are experiencing this for the second go-round.

word (i.e. god knows).

I just started reading "Eat, Pray, Love" by a lovely woman whose name escapes me right now, and I'm too lazy to go grab the book out of the other room, because god knows I'd probably get distracted and end up not entering an entry into my bliggity blog. And we all know how hard it is for me to get to this point in the first place, so let's not push it, shall we? Anyhoodle, about a million people have mentioned this book, but I've resisted attaining it because, after my traumatic -though-necessary pre-move purge [of so much lovely, lovely stuff] in Santa Barbara, I don't really want to buy things only to have to haul them around. After all, I'm still essentially homeless (though god [also] knows, this really can't last for much longer, right?), and anything I buy is yet another thing I'll need to move from 1 storage unit to another, and then eventually, someday, to some semblance of housing unit, somewhere, though god knows where, because for the life of me, I cannot bring myself to any kind of acceptance, try as I might, to the idea of living anywhere in Louisiana. Which would explain why, after practically 6 weeks in Minnesota, I'm still planning to stay for yet another 3. My point being that I'm house-sitting, and the book is here in the house, so I'm free to read it without having to purchase it. Ahem.

In the first section of "Eat, Pray, Love" (which Kathy Pope described as "really your kind of book, Angi"), the author and friends discuss the idea of finding one word to describe different cities (Rome=Sex, Stockholm=Conform, NYC=Achieve, LA=Succeed, etc.), which I thought was a fun little exercise. Like if you expanded that, and could think of a word to describe your life, or maybe the different phases of your life, which words would you choose? I used to do this with boyfriends: The one-legged Divemaster, The Malaysian, The Lobbyist, The Bartender, etc. In retrospect, it doesn't seem the best idea to attach the labels to people, actually. It's somehow really objectifying, or something, which probably explains why I no longer do it (except to distinguish one from the other, as in the case where 2 love interests have the same name, for instance.). But it really made me think, how would I describe this strange, yet seemingly very necessary, hiatus I've undertaken? Or do I need to describe it? Maybe it's better if I don't label it as one thing or the other verb, or noun. I suppose it just is. No matter how confusing and conflicting it feels.

God help me, I do not want to go back south though, not back to Louisiana, even if the best job in the world is waiting for me. I can't say I necessarily want to stay in Minne, and maybe I've just turned the whole state of LA into my personal bogey (put a little boogie in it) man. Dunno. I've been really tuned in to how lonely I've been for the past couple months- maybe even the whole time since I left 2 years ago. California was good- I had friends there, people who looked out for me, invited me to BBQs and Superbowl parties, good people I could lean on. There even were/are a few in Louisiana, but because we all work offshore, there's no guarantee that we'll be on the beach at the same time, and I don't even know where to begin looking for people to know in Louisiana. The thing is, of course, that it's not my girls (actually, this is a big part of it- none of them are girls at all, they're all men), it's not the people I've known forever. Another big realization is that I think I've entered a different part of my life from the one I was in when I made the decision to go into this line of work. I don't need to bust anybody's balls anymore; I don't need to prove anything to anyone (read: myself). I've done plenty. Really I have. I don't need to rattle off all the amazing adventures I've had, or all I've accomplished in my round-about jill-of-no-trades way. Because it's a bit like what I was talking about earlier: pigeonholing myself by applying too many labels, a sort of shield no one can ever look behind.

I sort of just want normalcy, to be able to live a normal life, where I can cook my own meals, live in my own home, and have a normal relationship with a guy of like interest/background. Normal stuff, I mean, relatively speaking, right? It's still me in here, after all. I don't want to be bored, but maybe just a bit more constancy, stability. Maybe it all just has to break down before it can be built back up. Maybe I'm just finally getting to the bottom of the pile of shit my mind has identified as the "interesting life I want to live" and getting down to what I really want, what I've really wanted all along. Because it seems to me that the stuff my mind comes up with never really gets me to where I want to be.

So maybe it's time for something else, something deeper, to start calling the shots.

love.

A few pictures to share, from the weekend:

Michaela & Paul, wedded.

the bridesmaids.

rockstars ;)

One of the best things about the wedding was meeting and getting to spend time with some of the people I've heard Mic talk about for so many years: Beth (above, with her fiance Tim and yours truly) and her sister, Lisa, both from Baltimore, were amongst my faves. Because it stands to reason that someone I've been close to for so many years also has some amazing friends I would probably also adore.

anywhere I roam.

Ha! It's been almost 2 months since my last entry. I guess I was taking a summer vacay from my bliggity-blog. Not that it's all that stressful, but I did have some stuff I was trying to figure out, and that kind of introspection is never really conducive to writing, at least not publicly.

I think I mentioned that I went back to Cali for a long-weekend type visit in early June. While visiting one of my MDT instructors, I was offered the opportunity, by a company rep who was visiting the MDT facility, to hire on with Oceaneering, a much larger offshore ROV company, based out of Louisiana. Upon my return to life and work in NOLA, I was sent out for a week to the DB16. But when the job ended earlier than expected, I was promptly placed on (unpaid) standby for a shipwreck job. Standby is job limbo: you can't really do anything except wait around for the job to go out, but there's not a ton for you to do while you wait. Here's what I did during that week.5 on the beach: I recuperated from a redux of the same bizarreness I suffered last year; I worked on evening out my tan for to look awesome in my bridesmaid dress; I read The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle and was sort of blown away; I called Oceaneering to set up an appointment to sign papers and secure my place in one of the upcoming training sessions.

I'm not sure if it's my MN upbringing, or having worked for the nonprofits, or something instilled in me by the Benedictines, but for some reason, I always have the idea in my wee brain that working for a smaller company/entity/organization is better than working for a large corporation. Now, I'm sure in some instances this is absolutely the case. But, I think I'm mostly done with believing that. I've had far more bad experiences than good, actually, and I could enumerate them all here to prove my point, but I won't bother. The thing about working offshore, for me, is that: I'm a woman > I can't go out on some/many jobs (due to lack of sleeping accomodation) > small company has limited jobs > I can't go out on any of these > big company has more jobs > I can work more. Also big company offers training, whereas small company offers... not so much training. Strange that I should feel more invisible at a small company than at a larger one, no?

Anyhoo. 2 weeks ago I quit SeaTrepid. 7 weeks from now I'll start training with Oceaneering. In the meanwhile, I'm in MN hanging out and enjoying the last of the summer, which I've been missing for the past couple years.

bad moon rising.

It's been a weird couple of days out here on the DB16.

We're getting close to the end, so the momentum has increased a bit, and we've been working a ton. We've had a few 18-hour days, to expedite what remains to be done, but also because, due to equipment failure, the divers aren't diving, and we're trying to make up for work they would normally be doing. The days of work aren't terribly strenuous so much as just plain long. They also have a terrible habit of waking us up around 6am, which doesn't particularly suit me, but it's the only way when we're a 2-person crew.

It will be good to finish with this job. There hasn't been a ton of opportunity for training out here, and even less in the office, to the effect that, after 3 months with the company, I don't know a ton about our ROVs (though everyone tells me there isn't much to learn). Hopefully the next job I'm assigned to will offer more hands-on time flying the 'bots. Until then, we're slowly inching our way forward til we're de-mob'd and back on the beach.