strategery.

Freedom is sort of intoxicating, though not conducive to writing entries in my blog, apparently.

I don't have tons to say, or maybe I have tons to say, but can't/won't/don't want to begin? Here's one thing: I'm still very much freaked out about figuring out what's next, about simply accepting what's next, about moving on to what's next. Like being stuck in the present, a classic image of the ostrich:

unfortunately, yes.

I don't know what makes this so difficult or scary, or so hard to just get started. Maybe if I stopped trying to figure it out, I might be clearer on what I want. On the other hand, I haven't gotten anywhere as yet, so I fear even worse stagnation if I don't try.

It feels like a big, giant hand is wrapped around my mid section, squeezing really hard, when I think about this stuff.

balance.

Back in SB now. I've decided to extend my stay in Cali into February, staying in my apartment until sometime mid- to late-Feb. I hesitated to make the decision, having wanted to leave here mid-January, but I realize a bit of time to get my life in order, to actually feel somewhat prepared when I leave, will be welcome. It feels right.

If I didn't have the opportunity to see while I was in the cities, please know I was thinking of you, and wanted to see you. Each successive trip back to the midwest has become shorter, meaning less time to see friends, simply because the travel days are long and tedious, and in between them I want to relax, which means fewer social engagements, or asking others to come to me, which I'm really not so good at. So, my apologies for not having the time, but you were on my mind ;)

Being back has been good. I've decided to use weekdays to look for work (both interim and long-term), and make phone calls. But I've also decided to have dedicated time for relaxation and enjoyment, and it's been awesome. I spent Friday doing stuff (yoga, researching companies, looking for temp work), then took the whole weekend for hanging out, watching movies (Better Off Dead, Notes on a Scandal, Sweeney Todd), reading, eating, sleeping. And it was lovely. I suppose some people are really good at this, dividing their time and making the best of all of it. I feel like I'm just figuring out how important this is, and how much more productive.

bait dock, Santa Barbara Harbor.

earth rat.

Happy Holidays to all, and Happy New Year too ;)

tree = christmas spirit.

I love coming back to MN for the holidays because it actually feels like Christmas here, unlike the surreality of the holiday season in CA, or tropical areas. It's usually pretty cold and blustery and this year, finally, there was a decent amount of snow on the ground and regularly falling throughout the days.

christmas snow.

I'm back to SB in a few days. I finished classes 13 December, and graduated on the 14th. I'm feeling a bit of anxiety at having finished and now being on the threshold of the next big thing. Excited to be free, but also uncertain, scared and a bit overwhelmed. But I shall leave those feelings for another entry.

I'm off to relaxedly celebrate the coming of a new year with good company (dad & kathe), a good movie (there's something about Mary), and a few good beverages (Tom & Jerrys, yum!).

Happy 2008 to all ;)

the most wonderful time of the year.

I'm exhausted. I've also had just about enough of myself complaining (even though it still feels sort of necessary, in that way that habits have of working their way back to you, babe.). I find myself happily, blissfully near the end of my training at MDT, but am also feeling that familiar twinge of nervosity at the prosepect of what might be next, and the bittersweetness of leaving my stinky boys.

I have only one more day of class. Tomorrow is the marathon bell/sat run. Yesterday was inspection (A for final grade), today was seamanship in the afternoon (B for a final grade), burning in the morning (final grade as yet undetermined), and my LAST DIVE at the marine tech program!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here's a picture of me on standby, waiting to enter the water for my final dive off the stinky, nasty, dirty, foul Stearns Wharf:

12 December 2007

destination.

Have you ever had one of those times in your life where you think of something you think might be a good thing to do, or have happen, and all of a sudden you're on track for that something to happen, without even being sure you want to do that thing, or have that thing happen, but suddenly the way is opening up before you? Do you have any idea what I'm rambling about? Actually, I'm not even sure of what I'm saying today.

About a month ago (maybe longer), I started toying with the idea of going to work for one of the diving companies in the Gulf of Mexico, after having sworn off becoming a diver for the preceeding 10 months I've been in dive school. And suddenly, all around me, everywhere I look, all I can see is evidence backing up that notion. And I'm still not totally sure I want to do it.

I'll outline a few things I've been thinking about:

1. One of the companies does contractual work for NASA in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, which is a simulated underwater space station, in Houston. For some reason, this has always sounded really interesting to me. I've been thinking tons about working with underwater equipment topside, like sonar and ROVs, but diving is the most basic component of the industry, which leads me to question...

2. My motivation for going/not going to work in the Gulf. I was having a conversation with one of my partners in crime (ie classmate), Andy, who raised this question. I think I was planning not to go because it's scary and not really the sort of conditions I really want to submit to, but then I wonder, when has that stopped me before? I've done TONS of things I've not totally liked, or hated even, but without which I wouldn't be the shiny, happy, sunshine-and rose-petals-out-me-arsehole type of lady I've ended up to be. So why should this be any different? I mean, this is what I've been training to do, and if I didn't at least go try it out, and then walk away having consciously made the decision not to do it, I really wouldn't respect myself much in the morning, now would I? I have a morbid curiosity to see how bad it really is. And there's money in the deal, which is reason enough for...

3. Leaving Santa Barbara. I've griped about it for the past 1.5 years: SB is goddamn expensive, and it is harder than hell to live in an expensive city, and go to school, and work a shit-ton of jobs, and maintain one's sanity (clearly I've not accomplished this last throughout my stay here). There's also not much by way of industry here, save tourism, which means that one's income potential varies by year, by season, by week. I also learned today that someone is taking over my spot as Divemaster on the boat beginning in January, which means I'll be down to working at the restaurant, which means I can really leave as soon as I get my belongings packed and stored.

So, crapsticks. The decision is sort of made, has sort of just become made. I mean, I still have to see who's hiring, and get a job. In the end, technicalities really. The decision's the main thing, no?

lullaby.

Yes, I said no posts. Gone til December, I said, or something along those lines. But I'm procrastinating, so I'm extra contemplative.

Good, relaxing Thanksgiving. I chose to celebrate the day by myself, talking briefly with fam by phone, eating lots of food I made, watching a Hitchcock marathon on AMC. It was awesome and restful and fantastic. Just the sort of day I'd wanted, to unwind. As we've neared the end of the semester and the training, I find myself more harried, stressed and a bit snappier/bitchier. I'm back to school tomorrow, but for the weekend I pretended it didn't exist, that there were no major decisions to make, no job search to perform, no moving preparations to be made, no bills to be paid. Like make-believe, like I was up to speed on everything, that life was unfolding exactly as it should be, which I suppose, despite what my neurotic woman-mindedness would lead me to believe, it actually is.

Worked on the boat all weekend. As with any leisure activity, people tend to cut out diving this time of year, in pursuit of more time/money to spend on Christmas gifts and related, so the boat was only about half full (less work for me!). Yesterday, on the way back from the islands, we came across a pod of dolphins. It was just after my shower, but before my afternoon snooze, so I stood on the bow and watched them frolic for a while (if you're not familiar, dolphins like to ride the surge the boat creates as it moves forward in the water, and can often be found at the bow, jumping, swerving and diving). When they appeared to have all gone away, I headed below decks to the crew quarters and my bunky-wunky, located just below the waterline, also at the bow.

Flat Stanley with Dolphin, on the bow of the Spectre.

There's a sort of unwritten rule in the crew quarters. When the captain's in his bunk, we don't disturb him unless it's necessary, the equivilent of the boss's office with the door shut. No chit chat, no questions, no small talk, no shop talk. And the captain always reciprocates. When I lay down yesterday though, the captain asked a question.

There are lots of sounds on a boat, especially when your bunk is right below the wheelhouse. The creaks of the steering, the crashing of the waves on the hull, the discussions of divers in the forward lounge. There's another I've probably heard before, but never registered. Yesterday the captain asked me if I could hear the dolphins outside the boat, as they play in the water, just a few feet away from where I lay. Instead to taking out my ipod, I fell asleep to the clicks and whistles of the dolphins outside.

tap.

I like this. How cool is it that he *recently learned to tap dance*???

75-year-old tap-dancer shimmies his way across Golden Gate Bridge
Michael Grbich wore some snazzy, if worn, red and white tap shoes on his trek across the Golden Gate Bridge. He just recently learned to tap dance.

Michael Grbich enjoyed his 1.7-mile dance across the Golden Gate Bridge, even bringing his own music and jump rope. The Oakland resident celebrated his 75th birthday Sunday, Nov. 18, 2007, by tap dancing across the Golden Gate Bridge and was joined by relatives and friends as he danced across the foggy span.

Near the end of Michael Grbich's dance and the south end of the bridge, family members and friends threw confetti to celebrate his feat -- or was that his feet?

richter.

School and work and homework have caught up with me again, so rather than feeling guilty about not fitting writing into my schedule, I'm just going to 'fess up: I don't plan to write again until school is over. I'd really love to keep you all abreast of all that's happening, but I can't make the time right now to do it well. Check back periodically, because of course one always finds time after one has decided against being able to find it. You know how it goes.

A quick note before I go. I've lived here about 15 months now, and have yet to experience a verifiable earthquake (I once woke up in the yellow room to my bed shaking, and I'm pretty sure it was an eq, but I've never found proof, so can't say for certain, and leave it off as a phantom earthquake). Apparently, unfortunately, earthquakes are not readily felt whilst driving in a car, because an earthquake happened tonight, but it took place in the mere moments between my departure from Trader Joe's and my arrival home, and I felt nothing. (boo.)

recap: italia!

Before I forget all detail, and am left only with the pure shiny beautiful-ness that was my trip to Italy, I'm going to try to do the trip justice by jotting down some of the good and not-so-good moments. I'll try to be succinct ;) and if you don't care so much for words, but just want to see pics, Venice pics are up on my flickr account (soon to be labeled)- working to get more up soon.

Travel day(s) to Milan:
up at 3am in Santa Barbara to catch 7am flight from LAX. Upgraded to roomy bulkhead seating next to sweet rancher from Wyoming. About -4 hours to Milan, begin fantasizing about change of clothes and fresh face application. Arrive at Milan to find my luggage stayed back at JFK, apparently to visit friends and take in the nightlife before joining me 3 days later at the villa. Later, at train station, I buy a ticket for Lucca, and call family to let them know ETA.

I wander around for a while, buy a caffe, wander back inside. Fortunate! as the train is about to leave. I get on, wandering until I find my seat, which is occupied by an adolescent with a nordic accent. His father looks at my ticket and points out that my ticket is for Florence, but the train I'm on is bound for Venice (in my defense, in Italian Venice=Venezia, Florence=Firenze. I think I saw that telltale Z on the platform placard and assumed I was in the right place...). At this EXACT moment, the platform wranglers have wrangled all the stragglers onto the train, as it's leaving within seconds. I see my window of last-minute opportunity, and I go for it- pushing people out of my way, felling small children with my overstuffed backpack. I make it back to the doorway LITERALLY as the it's sliding shut. By some grace of god, there's a gaggle of train station employees just outside that particular door. Wild-eyed and crazy as only a clueless Americana can be, I beat on the window to attract someone's attention. A man looks at me (and really, I must have looked cartoonish at this point!) asks what's wrong. I yell that I'm on the wrong train! He shrugs his shoulders in mock pity, and at that moment, the train pulls away from the platform. Do you believe that the cosmos have a sense of humor? I kinda do ;) I have to laugh and marvel at this little experience, simply because it couldn't have been timed any better had it been scripted.

A few more mishaps, and I arrive in Lucca, 12 hours after arriving in Milan (a normal, coherent person could have done it in 5 or so).

I think I'll leave off here. Charlie Brown and the Great Punkin Patch is on, and my roommates have pumpkin cheesecake.

sweetness & light.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it here in this particular space (though I'm sure it's come out in conversations with some), but one of my favorite and most regularly visited websites is the daily puppy. It's like crack for people who love dogs, as evidenced here, here, and here, and... here. The pictures are good for a daily dosage of pure cuteness, but I also love the narrative for each dog, and the comments people leave about the pictures. Pure love. Pure puppy love.


It's been a long week. Coming back from such an amazing vacay is tough work (and, not surprisingly, almost no one gives any kind of sympathy for this complaint). Plus, all new classes started up on Tuesday (which I somehow made it to, despite total jet lag combined with lack of sleep). It's also the last module of my training, and I'm feeling that old familiar feeling: SENIORITIS! (in a manner of speaking.) All the symptoms are there: lack of interest, little enthusiasm, no drive to complete tasks/assignments on time, overwhelming desire to skate through remaining portion of class time without actually exerting any effort. I'm fighting it though. Unlike the last time I was marinating in the jowls of this particular ailment, I'm fighting it by actually trying to get my work done, rather than by rousing my Bennie sistren to join me for *every day in May, Middy stylee. 7 more weeks until I hold the cert card of all cert cards in my hand:

au retour.

It always seems so quiet when I get home after a trip. Maybe it's the contrast between the din of an airplane cabin and the rattles of my car, but somehow entering my own room always feels so quiet and serene upon return.

Home from the trip, back to school tomorrow. Everything in Italy was amazing- Lucca, Pisa, Florence, Venice, and Cinque Terre (my favorite day of the trip!). Traveling to and from was kind of a nightmare logistically (lost luggage, demolished luggage, missed connections, late flights, wrong trains), but it really had no bearing on the trip itself, apart from mild frustration. It was sort of like eating a good hard salami, with a nice stinky cheese, but then stuffing it between 2 pieces of Wonder bread. Yeah, kind of like that.

There was lots of walking, and wandering, and churches, and museums, and eating, and gelato, nice shoes, euro fashions, people watching, and on-the-fly translation.

Molto bene, as the Italians would say (I think).

ciao.

I know you can't see me, but I'm doing that backward wave thing, so commonly attributed to the Italians. Some of the things I'm saying goodbye to for the week:


Desks and textbooks and manuals and timekeeping devices, computers, phones and work. To the devil with you (for the next 8 days)!

In the upper right you'll see a few photos, something I've been using like a visualization, to help make the trip seem more real. If you look closely you'll see me with Jeannie, Red Fuzz, and Mee-gan Kelly at the Colosseum; above that, with my arm raised in mock Euro food approval gesture with Amy in a cafe in a small town somewheres, eating pasta, drinking table wine; and standing with Mic above a canal in a very cold Venice of winter '96/'97.

Can you believe I'm going back?? I'm so excited I could pee my pants.

t minus.

2 tests down, 1 to go.

Today I finished my Surface Supplied Ocean Diving final, and my welding final. 1 more day of class/lab, 1 quiz, and my mixed gas diving final and I'm finished with the first half of my (hopefully) last semester at Marine Tech. I cannot believe it's already half over. There's a part of me that's so excited, and ready for a change, so hungry to earn a living again, but also a part of me that's in simple disbelief. I was pondering this today, that in a few months, I'll actually be a licensed and certified commercial diver. Wicked. But also really bizarre. I mean, I knew that's what I was going for when I started the program, but I didn't really think, just one short year ago, that I'd actually be preparing to move to the Gulf of Mexico to actually do this work.

After my exams today, I allowed myself the luxury of doing a wee bit of shopping. I'm not sure what it is about travel, but I always get the urge to buy just one or two new things, some comfy walking shoes perhaps, a sweater for those chilly Venetian nights...

hot tamale.

I'm taking all my finals this week, a week early. I'm really, really agitated, stressed, a little scared, preoccupied, plus many other adverbs (are they adverbs? i think they're adverbs) which describe my present mental state. Outwardly I think I seem ok, but on the inside it's like... it's like if you took a chihuahua, and fed it some caffeine-coated jumping beans, washed it down with a red bull+espresso concoction. Here's a glimpse:



May the heavens see me through til I board my flight Saturday morning ;)

just so.

Today is a day off. It wasn't meant to be, but circumstances have colluded so that here I sit, with no plans, and no work to go to until much, much later. I slept 11 hours last night, waking up this morning just shy of 11am. I know studies have shown you can't make up for lost sleep, but I think I disagree with them. I was pretty damn tired last night, and it felt really good not to set my alarm, to just languish in bed this morning. Mostly I plan to hang out and do homework today, drink coffee, maybe call computer support and inquire where my desktop items might have scampered off to yesterday afternoon. I do sort of wish I had a manservant, a valet at my beck and call, who I could send out for soy milk and condensed milk for a delicious coffee concoction, but instead I guess I'll have to leave the apartment for 15 minutes.

The seasons don't change much here, but it's definitely beginning to feel like autumn. The sun is beginning to hang lower in the sky, and yesterday we even turned the heat on at the restaurant, and shut the door. But of course, this isn't typical of Santa Barbara autumn. September and October are generally pretty warm and sunny, with many outdoor festivals. I think the current conditions (chilly & windy) are something of an anomaly. I kind of like it though, wearing my sweater around during the day, bundling up at night, shutting all the windows. I might even wear a hat when I go out for milk.

10 years gone.

My favorite possession is my passport, which I relinquished to the man a few months ago, in order to be issued a new one. One of the things I'm proudest of in my whole life was a day a few years back, coming back into Kuala Lumpur with my beau of the moment after a splendiferously lovely and tumultuous (my relationship with this particular beau seemed to thrive on arguing and alienation, tempered by the eventual makeup) diving excursion to the Perhentian Islands, off the east coast of Malaysia (or it may have been after our visit to Borneo, which sounds cooler and more exotic, but I can't be certain which). It was upon this visit to that great city that I was finally forced to make my way to the American Embassy to have supplemental visa pages sewn into my passport:


I had received some chiding and abuse at border crossings by officials searching for room to stamp my passport, but this was during the whole SARS thing and not long after 9/11, plus there'd been some shenanigans (bombings) in various parts of Asia, and the US had just invaded Iraq, so border crossings, in general, were not extremely pleasant.

The process of applying for the added pages was simple, no drama involved, no ceremony, it was important, momentous only to me. Basically I walked into the embassy office, located in a remote industrial-type area, filled out some paperwork, and waited, just like any other bureaucratic undertaking.

The funny thing to me about my new passport is that I've received it under just about the same duress at the age of 31 as I did at the age of 20. I leave to travel internationally in 8 days, and just received my passport today. When I applied for my first passport 10 years ago, I also just barely received it in time for my departure.

the more we change, the more we stay the same.

I like looking at this old passport though. All my international travel was done during my 20s. Before I studied in France, I'd never left the country, save for the occasional border crossing at Thunder Bay. The last time I left the country, for the Flanagan wedding in Mexico, was 2 months shy of my 30th birthday. I suppose more than anything, I look back at this sweet, chubby little face, and think about who I was then, such a different person from who I am today.

I'm pretty excited about my new passport. The design is different, with lots of stuff to look at, and quotes to read. It's shiny and new, and simply screaming to be used and abused in typical ang fashion.

woman's work.

Back from my weekend excursion on the boat. A few pics from the weekend:

"D" dock.

Night dive.

sunrise.

work attire.


view from the swim step (kind of like my office).

The trip was fun, and pretty grueling. The itinerary/my work schedule shaped up to look something like:

Fri. 9pm, underway to Anacapa Is.
Sat. 12am, divers diving @ Anacapa
2am, underway to Santa Cruz Is.
3am, divers diving @ Santa Cruz Is.
4:30am, to to bed, underway to San Nicolas Is. (about 5 hours voyage)
10am-6pm, divers diving
8pm, night dive
11pm, to bed
Sun. 7am-12pm, divers diving
1-5pm, underway to the VC
5-6pm, adieuing divers, cleaning boat.

Hectic and grueling. Fun, amazing divers. Beautiful islands and elephant seals! in native habitat at San Nick. Definitely hard work though.

One of the definite benefits of having roommates about is the sharing of meals together, and the conversations that arise over wine and tequila on a Tuesday evening.

I came home from school today and, having accomplished so much in the morning/afternoon, decided to take the night for myself, cook up a little butternut squash soup, do a little reading, turn in early. I sometimes have these ideas, and most of the time the ideas get upended by other plans that come flitting into my consciousness. Mostly, though, I end up chatting with my roommate, Claudia, about life in general. Our conversation about life in general began this evening around 5pm, continued up to, and after a viewing of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and finally concluded around 11:30pm, after a few bottles of vino and some tequila sippin. We are like minded of many, many topics, and have a hard time stopping the talking once underway.

side bar.

Quick updates today.

I'm feeling much better this week. The love of family & friends helped tons (thank you! much, much love to all of you- even anonymous love...), but also, as often happens, sometimes a good ol' utter and complete breakdown is necessary to clear out the emotional cobwebs to get everything back to normal. And actually, as also often happens, normal this side of breakdown feels much clearer and easier than the other side.

Anyhoo. My weeks are crazy busy of late. I'm seriously home only to sleep, and not much else. Other than that, I'm at school to study, then for class, then for work, then back to studying, or off to another job. It's madness! But I'm feeling good. I'm finding hidden moments for myself, and because I'm so busy, I'm appreciating them a ton. Today is a great example: I completed the study-class-work combo, and came home for a 15-minute snooze before heading to the restaurant (shower be damned! Neoprene funk on skin is easily covered with lotions and perfume... Welcome to the restaurant, fine diners!). After rushing around for 15 minutes getting ready, I realized I was a whole hour early! Which leaves a nice chunk of minutes for me to pack for my weekend excursion.

What weekend excursion, you ask? Saturday at midnight is lobster opener and this year I'm working on the boat all weekend long. We go out for a day trip tomorrow, return to harbor, fuel up, then head out again at 9pm to be at Anacapa for a midnight dive. Rumor has it we also do a 2am dive, so it's going to be a crazy night. I'm not sure how the rest of the weekend will go, I'm not sure how crazy it's going to be to be on the boat all weekend, but I'm prepared for an adventure ;)

School updates: Today in mixed gas class we cut 8" pipe underwater with a Wachs hydraulic saw. Because I helped prepare the hydraulics part of the equation, Instructor Geoff let me be the first to use the saw underwater. I'll post a pic of the saw later, but will say this: it was pretty rad.

I'm definitely becoming a fan of boys toys.

if.

If your life was a movie, what kind of movie would it be?

I was walking away from work tonight, at the restaurant, passing by the patio at Don's neighborhood dive bar, and a song was playing. I don't know what the song was, but it was something classic rock-y, sort of drifting out across the parking lot. As I was walking, I watched a woman leaned over her car trunk, fishing for something way in the back, so that all I could really make out of her person was her ass and legs, in faded jeans. From behind me, at the restaurant, dishwasher Eddie called his goodbye, "Be careful, mi reina."

I'm not sure why, but the whole scene struck me like something out of a movie. Maybe because it had a sense of desolation that sort of matched my mood- the dark alley, the music, the christmas lights strung up around Don's fake plastic trees, the dim light from the car trunk, the random people on the periphery.

How long does it take to change a mind? To beat it into submission, to knock free all those crusty old ideas that don't work anymore? A woman read my palm once and told me that sometime around now, I'd experience some kind of illness, or trauma. For the most part, I'm a pretty damn healthy individual, so I've always been a bit wary of this prediction, but could that miniscule interruption in my lifeline indicate instead a sort of spiritual trauma? Because that feels accurate, if you believe in that sort of thing.

A last note, a request for a little love. I know you read this- I can see you fackers that check this site regularly, but never leave any comment, or make any mention of visiting. And I'm baffled. Some of you I can figure out, based on web addresses and locales, but others... I've tried time and time again to figure out who the hell I know at GMAC residential funding- because you visit several times a week. Are you interested in perhaps moving to Santa Barbara, and want to know more about the city? Or do you like to read about flange fittings and Kirby Morgan dive hats? Or are you simply coveting my bike? I know you're sending some incognito love vibes, but I don't know how you are, and for a crazy neurotic like me, it's discombobulating.

So send a little love, because I'm needy and fragile this week.

roger that, topside.

Mixed gas diving today. First dive on helium.

The focus of 90% of MDT classes is on the diving, but, and here I'll relay to you by far the favorite quote of instructors in the MDT facility:

"The title of Diver is not a panacea for the skills or knowledge you
lack. It merely entitles you to a unique form of transportation."

This quote finds its way into everything. It can be seen on walls, various plaques throughout the building, syllabi, quizzes, etched into the toe reinforcements of the instructors' socks. They love this quote, because almost everyone in the building is there, initially, because they love to dive. But commercial diving isn't about diving, so much as it's about the work you do underwater. Hence, the quote. We learn to dive as a formality. The real training is in the work we learn to do while underwater.

So, getting back to today's class, mixed gas diving. My day actually started last night, cramming the completion of a mixed gas diving manifold schematic into an already very busy day, and then continuing into the wee hours of the morning, reviewing gas laws and equations for a quiz this morning. I slept a few hours, woke up early to continue studying for a few more hours before class and lab from 9am-2pm. Thursday is my Friday, though, and despite the busy-ness of the day, I had fun- I love being at the facility early, plus I kicked arse on the quiz. It was also our first day of diving for this class. Last week we pumped and analyzed our breathing mixes, today we got to re-analyze and dive the gas mix. Easy, right?

Our instructors like us to be task loaded. Maybe all diving instructors like to do this- it's the only real way you can test a diver's mettle underwater- by weighing them down with things to do, to see how they'll do, and what they'll do, and also if they'll freak out doing it. So today, in addition to diving the 77/23 HeO2 mix, we also worked on a flange disassembly/re-fit-up project in the tank. Easy, right?

In addition to task loading, our instructors like to make conditions as realistic as possible for us. So, in addition to diving helium, and working on the flange fit-up, sometimes we work cooperatively with another diver (and keep in mind that divers can communicate with topside individually, but cannot communicate directly to one another. Divers instead give messages to topside who then, in turn, relays the message to the other diver... very complicated.).

Another reality of working in the field is little to no visibility. Which means that sometimes, increasingly, the duct tape comes out and a few slices are taped to the hat viewer, leaving us... on helium, working with heavy equipment, with another diver, sightless as a newborn chihua.

I'm being dramatic though, dragging it all out like this. It's actually just sort of par for the course at this point. I think Geoff, the instructor, derives a tremendous sadistic joy from torturing both himself and us with this stuff. Mostly we have fun. We yell and get frustrated, but then we laugh about it afterwards and discuss what went wrong, what can go better the next time.

Like today, my dive with Zeke was pretty miserable. My gas mix was switched from air to HeO2 almost immediately upon descent. In situations like this one, communication is crucial, a point that Geoff had mentioned several times during our morning briefing. Unfortunately, I'm near-indecipherable whilst on HeO2. I tried talking slowly, enunciating, everything I could think of, but still no one could understand what I was saying, and communication suffered. After about 10 minutes, Geoff crumbled and let us take the tape off the face plates. We fit the flange back together, but it was off by one or two bolts. I have no idea how we would have ever gotten it back together blindfolded.