The Beach

The past couple of days I spent time on Catalina Island, and in Laguna Beach. Went out there with a friend from work to do some SCUBA diving, and generally relax. Our third dive was on Thursday, and afterwards we sat on the beach in Laguna and waited while our dive master went back in to find one of his integrated weights that had slipped out during the dive. It gave me enough time to get sunburned, and do a little bit of thinking.

The last time I did a similar trip was five years ago. I'd been in Vegas just over a year, and a friend of mine from ships came down for the diving and relaxing. We had a bit of a history. I'd met her on ships, and at the time she wasn't interested because my contract would be up soon. But I left the ship, and we kept in touch by letter (she was on the cruise line's private island, sans internet or phone). We found out we actually did like each other. Quite a bit.

We visited each other a few times, and the relationship she hadn't allowed to happen while we were living and working in the same place did happen, after a fashion, when time and distance allowed. The last time was in California, diving and relaxing in Catalina and Laguna. I drove out with her after work, slept in the car, caught the first ferry and dove all day, then went back to the mainland. Crashed with a friend of hers, then spent the next day wandering around Laguna, doing coupley things. I bought a couple of shirts that she said looked hot on me. I still have them, although time won't allow me to wear one of them any more. I keep it in the hopes that one day someone else will say it looks hot on me. I'm not holding my breath. . .except for when I put that shirt on.

My mind wasn't in the right place at the time. I couldn't give her what she needed or wanted, and I didn't know what I wanted. But a lot has changed in the past five years, both with me and with her. I wouldn't say I exactly know what I want, but I do know what I'm open for now. Back then I'd just bought a condo, and had a five year plan. Now I'm beginning short sale procedures, and I have a different five year plan. Back then she came down to see if things might work between us. Now, she just gave birth to her second child. I actually went to her wedding, and have a terrible feeling that I didn't send her the disc of photos I took.

I posted a few pictures on the social networking site that I will not name, for fear that their privacy policy changes again and any mention of them entitles them to take ownership of any content on said page. But I posted a picture of Avalon Harbour, and she commented on it. So Jealous. I don't take this to mean that she would trade places with me, or she's unhappy in her life-- far from it, she's got two great kids and a bloke who looks after her well. But if she's jealous of my being in Catalina, am I jealous of her having a happy family life?

Juries still out on that one. Had things happened differently, would we have the happy family life and have been in Catalina together this past week? That sort of question's just not worth asking, again cos of crazy. I've lived countless lifetimes in my mind, some with her, some with others I've loved, and some with people I barely know. I've been single for six years, and in that time I've been married a thousand times, had hundreds of children, and been mourned by all those wives and family members. Scary, huh?

But I've been thinking that maybe it's the imagination I'm relying on to help me have a career as an author that's screwing me up in my personal life. If I'm living all those lifetimes in my mind, creating possible and potential scenarios, and thinking too much about what to say or do instead of just letting things happen, I'm stopping myself from actually living. One life lived is better than thousands imagined. So from now on I'm going to stop. The lives I imagine won't be for myself, they'll be for my characters. I won't think about the woulda shoulda couldas. I'll focus on what's going to happen next, and I won't be scared by it any more.

obsession

I have a healthy tendency to obsess about things. I say it's healthy, because it's how I've manages to get where I am today. I obsessed about working on cruise ships while I was in University, and two months after graduation I signed on for my first contract. I then obsessed about working for Cirque Du Soleil, and two years later I moved to Las Vegas and started working at New York New York. I've become obsessed with being a writer, earning a living doing it, and I'm chipping away at that too with novels and screenplays and short stories underway. And now I have a new obsession. It's been about a week now, and it probably has a little to do with watching the DVD of my 24th birthday last week, and some of what's going on financially in my world right now (that's a whole 'nother blog). But basically, I've become fixated on living on a boat. My own yacht. Nothing too guady or ostentatious, but no floating bathtub either.

It just sounds ideal for where I am in my life right now, or rather in a couple of years once I have a writing income. I know that's assuming a lot, but if I don't aim for it then I won't get there. But living in Vegas for over six years, I feel a little trapped. I'm trapped by the mountains that ring us on all sides, and the dirty ceiling of smog. There's still too much for me to go and see and do in the world, and living a 5 work-days-a-week isn't cutting it for me. I want to sail through the islands of Puget Sound and catch my salmon for to grill. I want to sail back through the Panama Canal, and actually set foot in South America rather than be yards away and still not there. I want to go to Galapagos and dive with the schooling scalloped hammerheads. And I want to do it all on my terms, in my time.

And it's the perfect time for me. I'm young enough that it still seems like a great idea. I'm also young enough to be able to forgo some of the things we take for granted in our daily lives, rough it a bit. I'm single, with emotional attachments that would for sure be tested with prolonged absences, but that's been the story of my life so far and those friendships I still have are all the better for it. I'm old enough that I won't just jump into it without doing the proper research and preparation. I'm old enough to know that it's not as glamorous as most people might think. And I'm old enough that I've done a lot of things that were goals as I was growing up, so I'm in search of new goals.

My opaternal grandfather was a fisherman, and my matyernal great-grandfather was a fisherman. Or maybe great-great, I'm not a hundred percent on that. My father was in the British Merchant Navy after school, and that's partly why I worked on cruise ships, to fulfill some sort of perceived familial obligation. But it's more than that, I realize now. There's something terrifying and fascinating between me and the Ocean. It scares the crap out of me, with its changeable moods and bewitching peace. It's a healthy obsession to have because it's seventy percent of the planet's surface. And wherever you go on it, you're linked to everywhere else.

So I shall live on a boat. I'm giving myself five years to achieve this goal, and I'll definitely be talking about it again as I head towards it. Five years. I'm obsessed.

I've already got a name picked out.

Editing

I was intending to put me book down for a couple of weeks, step back from it, take a break, before I started the edit. But yesterday I just... I just felt like doing it. I'm learning to actually listen to myself when I feel like doing something, so I picked up a pencil and started to read my own words. My gods does it need work. The prose is quite. . .to be polite to myself, quite clunky. It's the sort of book I'd discard as aeroplane reading- good enough to read in transit, but if you leave it in the seat pocket in front of you that's no great loss. This is going to take more than one edit. one thing I do seem to be getting the hang of, though, is cutting parts. I've always been told that as a writer you can get enamoured of sentences, dialogue, etc., and not want to cut them. I haven't found that to be the case yet. Two chapters in, and I'm doing battlefield surgery with my pencil.

Now, in m defense, and because I have to say something to convince myself it's not all bad, I think my writing progressed as I wrote. The first couple of chapters I was feeling my way, but it seemed to come much easier the further I got into the story. I haven't read the whole thing yet, so maybe I should read it all first and then make the changes, but the ending is so fresh (most of it was done last week, altho the last chapter was done in September) I don't feel like I need to read it just yet.

Either way, I suppose it's a good way to start the New Year. I was certainly happy, and I don't think I'm alone in this, to see the end of last year. 2009 was a. . .bizarre. . .year. So many ups and downs, most real but some perceived. I got a promotion without a raise, reached 5 years with Cirque/MGM, met some of the kids of my Salzburg group, ran up my credit card, went to a friend's wedding I never thought would get married, bought a new suit, had the worst hangover I've had in years- with my father-, went diving with sharks, wrote the first draft of a novel, churned out a couple of short stories, two short screenplays, started on two full-length screenplays, broke 100,000 miles with my car, fell in smitten, fell in smitten again (okay, so that was more or les a monthly occurrence), argued about politics and religion, argued about politics and religion again(okay, so that was more or less a daily occurrence), started to twitter, re-started to blog (and one day I might just transfer all the old ones over here. I feel dirty with them on MySpace). I'm sure I'm forgetting some things, but I leave it to you to work out which were the ups, which were the downs, and which were perceived to be either by me.

As to this year? I feel good about it. Despite not being able to stick to one of my resolutions for more than six minutes, and breaking a couple more a few hours later, it's going to be a good one. I've got to finish book one completely, I want to finish the first draft of book two, and the screenpl. . .you know what? This year is about finishing. I've always been good at starting things, so I'm going to work on seeing them through this year. Which is why I'm going to get up now, fix myself something to eat, and then sit down with my draft and keep slicing away at it.

Maybe this year I should work on editing my blogs before I post them too? Or at least re-reading them to see if I've made more of an arse out of myself as usual. . .

Sharks

So it's been two weeks since I got back from the Bahamas. Two weeks of proudly showing off the video of Adam and myself diving with sharks. I need to get it on YouTube, cos I think it's pretty damned cool. Two weeks, and we're already talking about our next dive trip. Maybe Roatan and one of the live-aboard or dive package trips. Maybe the Galapagos. I'd love to see the scalloped hammerhead sharks schools. We're also talking about getting a group together, maybe ten people or something. Anyone interested?

So for the first couple of days I was completely on a high from the trip. And a little jetlagged, don't know why I find the east coast harder than I do England to readjust from, but I do. But just to have been diving again! To be lucky enough to see the hammerhead shark on our very first dive; to glide through the water as though I was flying over the wrecks used in two James Bond films; to kneel in a circle like sacrificial victims while some bloke wearing chain mail fed chunks of fish to sharks and got them to swim right up to us. It's definitely one of the most incredible trips I've had, and one of the most amazing things I've ever done.

But the problem is that now I've done it. I want to do it again. I want to do it lots and lots.

I've loved diving since before I started it. Snorkelling in Hawai'i with turtles, that's what made me want to dive. And hence the turtle round me neck, and the 'I saw a Turtle' T-shirt that everyone always comments on. Learning to dive in St. Thomas back in 2003 was one of the things that got me through my last ship contract. Once I was under the water it didn't matter how crappy my day had been, because suddenly everything was better. Even the one or two times I've had pressure problems and only been able to stay very shallow, just floating under the surface is great. So now all I can think about is diving. Adam didn't help matters because the whole time we're down ther he's saying 'If I was you I'd be here right now, you have nothing keeping you in Vegas.' And I really don't. I mean, I have some great friends, but I'll always stay in touch and I'll make more. I have the house, but being upside down in a mortgage almost $100,000, ir really makes you lose interest in paying the bloody thing. So why AM I stil here? I can't seem to focus on anything properly right now. I don't really want to hang out with people, or go to the movies, or write, or work out. The flip side of this is I'm actually trying harder- pushing myself to write, managing a couple thousand words a week which isn't too bad. I went to the gym for the first time i a year or two, and I'm still hanging out with people. But there's something in the back of my mind, looking out, whispering to me just beyond the edge of my hearing. If I could hear what the voice was saying, maybe I'd be able to focus properly and be able to follow through with something. . .something like a blog that was supposed to be about something else but then I got distracted. . .

Home

Sitting in the Nassau airport writing this, but it'll have to wait on getting posted til I get home, cos despite the insistance of my phone that there's a dunkin donuts wi-fi network, it won't let me online.It's been a good trip. Really good. I finally proved to myself I didn't crack my skull open when I fell out of Ian's car in Denver (I was worried for a while cos I had some issues equalizing last time I went diving). Saw my first hammerhead shark, dove with reef sharks, dove around the never say never again and thunderball wrecks, saw my first cruise ship with its new (to me) paintjob, spent a day in Paradise, had a traffic accident, had a conversation with a bloke who looked like he had that skin thing where you change colour, got eaten alive by mozzies, a little bit sunburned on my nose, spent money, and saw my life flash before my eyes as the cab driver got us to the airport in record time. Even got a bit of writing done. A page or two, but every little bit helps.

Good trip. Roatan next year, anyone?

Hammerhead

First day of diving was today. And gods did it feel good to get back in the water. It didn't feel so good getting up tho. We landed around 11 yesterday, to the hotel by noon, enjoying the bar's honour system by noon thirty. Twelve hours later we'd run out of space to put the check marks for each beer we'd drunk, so headed to bed. Barely slept.

But we made it to the bus and the dive shop, 'stuart cove's.' Made it out on the boat. Our first dive was a spot called lambert wall, part of a drop off for the third deepest ocean trench on the planet. We didn't go down the whole trench, six thousand feet is a little beyond my dive rating. But we were at about eighty feet, ready to head back up the walk, when I saw Adam hold his hand up on his head like a sad attempt at a mohawk and point frantically into the deep water. Looked where he was pointing to see a Hammerhead shark about thirty feet away. As soon as we started looking and pointing at it, with a turn and a couple flicks of its tail it was gone.

Now, this is the second shark I've seen in the ocean while diving, but the first one was in the distance swimming away from us. To see a hammerhead that close, to see the speed, power and grace is incredible. It was only a few seconds, but it'll last forever in my mind.

After that, diving at the wreck used in a James Bond film was cool, but not as monumental.

Sitting in the bar now at the hotel, trading stories with a sixty-three year old Swiss bloke who's been divorced four times, an American on the island to be a pilot for one of the smaller airlines, and a Scotsman who is travelling the world diving after his wife died a few years ago.

This is what makes life.

Anticipa. . .

I know I've used that as a title before, but that was in the MySpace days so it doesn't count. Or maybe one day I'll actually transfer all of 'em to here and actually get rid of MySpace seeing as I haven't used it in over a year. The problem with that, though, is I'll probably realize as I'm doing it how depressingly repetitive I can be. But that's not what I'm here about right now. I'm sure at some point in the near future I'll be at home, have a few too many drinks, and start crying online about my 'sues and hangups and blah blah blah. But right now, I want to talk about being giddy with anticipation about diving in a few days, and I think the ability to be excited about something is funamental to being a human being. Now, what you get excited about is fundamental to being a well-adjusted human being.

When this posts,  Adam and I are flying to Nassau, the Bahamas, to spend four days diving and switching off for a while. And I don't think I've been this excited about anything since my trip to Oz in November 2006. That's not to say I haven't been excited since then, just not to this level. Well, maybe the Germany trip in August 2007. But see, that's the thing I've noticed. There's something about travel that just gets me worked up more than anything else. I'm not one to get excited about movies coming out, or visits by celebrities, but travel really does it for me.

I don't even mind the airport or the plane part of travel, although the older I get the less patient I am with other people. I'm ready to go through the security checkpoint, why the bloody hell aren't you? Yes, you do have to take your shoes off, it's been like that for years. Oh, it beeped because of the change in your pocket? Well imagine that. 'Swhy I travel in flip flops and without a belt, it's just easier to deal with.

So yeah, I'm going to be in the Bahamas for the next couple of days. Probably no blogging, cos I'll be busy.