Reading the school’s newspaper last week, I ran across a blurb about the local scuba diving club which was having an event at the school’s natatorium. I wrote the info down to remind J whose greatest passion, besides music and videogames, is anything related to water. He even tends to write aquatic-sounding music. So I knew, just knew, this would be his sort of thing. He had snorkeled before, but never had been able to have a chance to scuba dive.
So that was yesterday night, and I, the hydrophobic one, decided to take a stab at it as well. It was fantastic.
First off, I stayed a lot calmer than I thought I would. While trying to figure out how to remove the regulator underwater and place it back in my mouth (a test to be given at the beginning), the lack of pressure in the pool caused my regulator to spew too much air, inadvertently almost knocking my mask off and causing me to forget to blow bubbles. Instead letting out a scream like a love-sick hyena, I just pulled back and essentially threw my hands in the air, letting the instructor come in and give the regulator a good thwap before handing it back to me.
Next, a ring on my BCD, the breathing control device, loosened right before we were to take a walk toward the deep end. [Gotta love rental equipment.] The air connection between the vest and the tank snapped off leaving me in an opaque world of bubbles. I stood still, recognizing that I still had air, made the signal for having a problem [A horizontal flat hand shaking from left to right, as if you thought something was only so-so.] and then gave an exaggerated shrug.
The instructor pulled me out of the water to mention how I would have to manually breathe into the vest to go up. I negotiated that I would just kick to the surface and the instructor would attach the tube so that I could float, none of that ueber coordinated breathing stuff – that is how I would meet my end I feared. This also left me sinking faster than everyone else and I had to equalize against the pressure faster than everyone else. Not a big deal since I walked the slope of the pool and there wasn’t a real drop off.
As I finally figured out the trick of cleaning your mask of condensation underwater, [Let water into your mask, swirl it around, and then hold the top of your masking and blow air and water out with your nose] I was able to look around at the other divers and their bubble trails leading to the surface of the water where the florescent lights danced against the splashes. When wisps of my stark blonde hair floated around my mask, I felt a the remnants of a seven-year-old me, who desperately wanted to be Ariel in her bathtub at home, clap her hands and giggle.
In other news, I have found the worst time suck known to man, or at least, known to me at this point. [And this is compared to my blog feedreader, to which when J sees me switch it on, he rolls his eyes and comments on how I won’t be doing homework, or cleaning, or doing anything productive for a while. That’s when I mumble that blogs are productive…and whine as he leaves my room, “It helps me write better!”]
Anyone here heard of Stumbleupon?
All I heard when addressing everyone online yesterday about my palpable glee that made my typing fingers tremble, I got a few “Meh”’s, a few “Eh”’s, and one “Huh?” which is not what I was expecting at all.
“It’s a poor man’s internet TIVO for heaven’s sake!” I cried, “It knows what I’m looking for; it can see my soul!”
Well, I wasn’t that rabid about it. But pretty darn close. Let me give you some of the links that I stumbled upon yesterday. [You knew that was unavoidable, right?] Perhaps I can convince you that this is a power so great, so fierce, and indeed, so terrible that everyone else needs to waste their time here too.
- Squashed Philosophers.
Tagline: In their own words… but condensed and abridged into something like readable
- Librarian Chick.
Tagline: Learning is Sexy.
- One Word.
- This one is for any Canucks and religious questioners: Why can’t I own a Canadian?
- Like photos? How about seeing what a sandstorm is like in Iraq?
- And forget the mass-marketed secret, this is the real secret.