Leaf, probably…

Today I spent lunch down on the waterfront with Kat, Becks, Jeri and Maike.

Usually when we all get together it’s fun and we laugh a lot, and bitch about boys and relationships, and talk about punching things. Our meetings make me feel powerful, capable, and happy. 

When it’s time to go I leave with a sense of direction and a cool ball of calm lodged just under my rib cage. Not many people give me calm. I value the ones that do highly.

We were all there on the waterfront today for Kat - one of the very few people that I actually hero worship.

Over three years ago now she introduced me to kickboxing and changed pretty much my entire outlook on life. To everyone else she’s the person who taught me how to throw a nice punch, to me she’s the person who taught me that I can be badass.

Kat can make me do things I never would have thought about trying without her influence. Like the time I did two boxing classes in a row for her. Or the time she convinced me to try scuba diving.

She’s the first person I think of when I need courage, or no nonsense ‘get your butt into gear’ advice. And I have a feeling I’m going to be needing that sort of advice quite a bit in the next few months.

All in all she’s one of my favorite people, and even though she’s younger than me I look up to her like the totally badass big sister I’ve come to see her as.

Today’s get together on the waterfront wasn’t about boys or laughing about crap, or punching things.

It was because Kat is going to Rarotonga for a long time. She’s planning on doing her diving instructors exams while working in one of the dive shops over there. We were all there to say goodbye to Kat, and to try and keep our collective raging jealousy under control.

When I left I didn’t have a sense of purpose, and I sure as fuck didn’t have a nice cool ball of calm under my ribs. Instead I have a messy ball of weepy sad GIRL.

I haven’t lost it and actually cried yet, but it’s probably not far away. In fact at 1.15pm tomorrow I’m going to be standing with my hands pressed to my office window watching Wellington airport and blubbering like a big baby.

It’s hard to be badass when you’re sad.

Kat: Have an awesome time, but not too awesome, because we all want you back.

Yes you read that title right, and I’ll get to that later.

This weekend was a good one. I lay in bed for a few hours following Friday night’s attempt to go dancing. I say attempt, because we ended up in the Big Kumera waiting until midnight for the live band that never showed. Then we re-located to KFC.

After I spent a few hours lying around my house, Ben and I spent a few hours laying around his house. Then Later Jordan and Karlie joined us for laying around at Ben’s house, while watching DVD’s.

While it may sound an awful lot like I spent Saturday laying anywhere I could, I actually didn’t. There was that walk Ben and I went on to get him coffee, and me gelato. And I had to sit upright on the bus all three times that I used it to get between Ben’s place and mine.

On Sunday I had to be in Petone at 9am to get my gear ready for diving. I wasn’t. At 9am I was standing in the bus stop at Wellington Train Station watching my phone’s power supply inch closer to death. In short: Wellington doesn’t have an actual public transport system  on Sundays before 9am. Instead, it has one man, and a donkey-drawn cart. It’s not very effective.

I eventually did manage to get to Island Bay, which is where everyone (including Kat!) ended up diving from. It was cold and rainy and I was pretty much freezing my butt right off - until I had to wrestle myself into my wetsuit that is. After that I was warm like a sauna.

The spot we dived from was all rocky and sea-weedy, which was a new experience for me (it’s all new) and if the water was cold, then I didn’t feel it. I saw tons of little fish swimming around in the vegetation, and was pretty much stoked to be there.

The second I win lotto, I’m buying myself all my dive gear and quitting my job to take up my new life as a bum who dives, and hits things a lot. I’ll probably also write crap poetry, because there’s only so much diving and hitting things you can do in a day.

So. Back to my weekend. When I got home in the afternoon, I watched a DVD for work (I know right!? Who does that?) Then I went to the bathroom, and rinsed some conditioner through my hair because it was one big mangy mess from all the sea salt.

I was standing there, in the bathroom, combing my hair and staring into the mirror when I suddenly thought: “I need the ends chopped off this. But there’s no way I can afford a haircut until that loan has been paid off… And that’s still a few months away…” So I used the comb and my fingers to mimic what the hairdresser does to cut my hair, just to see if it was as easy as it looked. And you know what? It was.

And then I went and got my scissors. I’ve always been pretty certain I would be one of those idiots who one day gives into temptation and cuts their own hair. I had managed to avoid falling prey to the lure of the scissors, until yesterday that is.

I chopped a centimeter or two off the ends, and layered the hair around my face a bit.

As I was standing there, looking into the sink full of hair, I thought: “Well, I’ve come this far. I might as well dye it while I’m here, right?”

So I dug around in the bathroom until I found that extra bottle of ‘rich brown’ hair-dye from a few months back, and dyed my own hair. Just like that. It was that easy.

It doesn’t even look that awful. It’s not crazy uneven, or blunt, or anything. I’m even wearing it straight today, so it would have shown VERY clearly if I had taken a giant chunk out of the side. But I didn’t. And if we had the Internet at home I could show you that. But we don’t. So you’ll have to take my word: My hair looks fine. Normal. Almost untouched by the hand of an overeager penny pincher.

The funny thing is that even as I write this I’m fairly certain I can hear my mother screaming in horror from her computer in Foxton.

Lately I’ve been feeling a bit negative. Uni has started up again, leaving me with less free time, and more work to do. Work has stepped up again, and I’m finding very little there to keep me interested  or motivated. My gym still doesn’t have any kickboxing classes I can attend, and as a result of that and stress I’m getting very little sleep.

All of this has had me trapped in a nasty mindset, example - I hate the bus. Uni blows. I hate my job. I should quit. Why bother it’s all just going to go down hill because I’m getting old. I’m so old all my muscles hurt. Old people need more sleep in the mornings. I hate having to get up. I’m only going to spend the rest of my life in admin hell anyway. Why bother finding clean clothes for that? And I’m never going to be allowed a puppy. - all before 8am this morning. (I’m just a beam of gleaming, life-filled sunshine in the mornings…)

So I thought I’d spend some time today reminding myself of things I love:

• Wiggling my fingers under the sand to attract fish.
• Cantering bareback on horses.
• Eating gherkins.
• Smelling freshly popped popcorn.
• Owning a computer (Come back, Marvin!)
• Wearing my dobok.
• Roundhouse kicks.
• Equalising.
• Fixing someone elses computer problem.
• Figuring out how to make my computer do something that I didn’t think it could.
• Making conversation with the old people who call our office phone.
• Hour long baths with yummy smelling products. And a book. Also a small bag of M&M’s and a big glass of chilled water.
• Having people believe the stories I make up.
• Cranberry Juice.
• The sound of my boxing glove slamming into a pad when I do a right hook.
• My boxing wraps.
• Catching up with friends.
• Connecting with new people.
• Knowing I did well.
• The Wellington International Ukulele Orchestra.
• Beating the photocopier into submission when no one else can.
• Winning stuff.
• Free stuff in general.
• House, Bones, and Boston Legal.
• Putting up the Xmas tree.
• Wrapping gifts.
• Getting my hair cut or coloured.
• Giggling.
• Dreaming interesting dreams.
• Getting letters and packages.
• Waking up slowly on weekends.
• Waking up early on weekends when Ben’s over.
• Walking dogs.
• Cats purring.
• Taking photos.
• Knowing where my phone is.
• Neatly packing boxes.
• Fresh sheets.
• Laughing with Mum when she tells me gossip.
• Doing Dad stuff with dad when I visit home.
• Running through kickboxing combos in my head instead of counting sheep.
• Finding a new hobby.
• Neck and shoulder rubs.
• Hugs.
• Learning New things.
• Helping someone else learn new things.
• Cold water, after standing for 1/2 an hour in the sun in a wet suit.
• Lukewarm showers.
• Biting into Kit Kat chocolate bars.
• Old jeans.
• Romance Novels.
• Watching other people dance.
• Going to the theater.
• Seeing the circus.

Uni has fucked up my enrolment.

So instead of spending this morning under my desk at work with a margarita, I will be spending it in the enrolments office of Victoria University. Possibly with the throat of the enrolments officer, who failed to change my address or return my calls, clutched firmly in my right hand.

In other news, I am a PADI certified Open Water Diver!

12.00 on a Sunday afternoon I’m bobbing around in Scorching Bay.

I’m out further from the shore than I’ve ever swum at a beach before, and I’m feeling a little panicky. I tell myself that I’m not going to sink, though, because my BCD is inflated and snug against my ribs.

My breath isn’t what I’d call deep and even, and I try to concentrate on just calming down, and staying with the group.

The water is rougher out here than I had imagined, and I swallow a couple of sickening mouthfuls of salt and seaweed and lord knows what else before I remember to put my snorkel in my mouth.

They say you should make a dog swallow salt, dissolved in water if it eats poison, to make it throw up.

My flippers catch in the water whenever I move them, and I am acutely aware of the weight belt tugging at my hips. It’s 12 kg’s and will make my legs and hips ache with fatigue as I trudge back up the beach later.

I’m wearing a two piece wetsuit with a hood, and it presses tightly across my chest and hugs my neck. The tightness over my chest doesn’t quite impede breathing, but it certainly makes me more aware of it. 

I don’t need to be any more aware of my breathing at this point.

The zip digs into my neck a little when I move and I feel claustrophobic. The hood keeps slipping back, and the mask blocking my nose and obscuring my vision feels downright wrong. I force myself to leave it where it is.

It’s hot up on the surface.

We start our decent. The water closes over our heads, and it’s not like I thought it would be. I’m surrounded by bluey brown water, and despite straining I can’t see more than 1/2 a meter in front of myself. ‘Keep breathing.’ I remind myself over and over. It’ll be fine.

The surge below the waves is tossing me around, and I tilt slightly backwards rather than slightly forwards. I freeze a bit, holding my body too rigid to be comfortable. 

Keep equalizing. I’m terrified my doctor is right, and I’m going to blow an ear drum. Or drown. Or become unable to breath. Or lose the group.

I know my eyes are wide, and my breathing is uneven, and faster than it should be. My buddy helps me straighten a little, and we’re on the bottom. Kneeling in a small tight circle, linking arms to prevent being swept away from each other in the swirling water and sand.

The water is cool. Calm comes down around me like a warm fuzzy blanket.

I equalise once more, hearing the reassuring squeak. My doctors fears were unfounded. I have no difficulty at all.

I look around the circle  of divers and I can make out most of them. I see a couple of wide eyes, like mine, but nothing too serious. A couple of the guys are even grinning. I can tell, even behind their regulators. 

They say diving is the closest most people will ever get to being in space.

Space would be hard to see in too.

I decide right then and there that I love it. Even though I can’t see much, and even though it’s scary, and rough, and the salt will make my lips crack a little later because I forgot my lip-balm.

I’m going to be doing this as often as possible, and hopefully for the rest of my life.

You should learn how to dive because:

a) It’s fun.

b) Your doctor thinks you should.

Answer: Well if you have Shannon’s doctor then the answer is NONE OF THE ABOVE. You see humans were born with feet, so why in gods name would we want to strap a cylinder of air on our backs and get wet? According to Shannon’s doctor even swimming is a bit iffy, so she doesn’t recommend that either.

The most important rule in scuba diving is to:

a) Ensure that all pieces of your equipment are colour co-ordinated.

b) Never hold your breath.

c) Never dive without a buddy.

Answer: B, never hold your breath - although colour co-ordination is pretty up there on my priority list too, and diving without a buddy would imply a certain lack of intelligence.

Thermocline, what say you?

a) All for it. It’s that fancy-schmancy layer of foam in my dry suit that keeps me warm.

b) Its a sudden change in temperature as you travel deeper in the water.

Answer: Totally b. It’s like a sudden layer of colder water as you go deeper - and the change can be especially abrupt if you’re in fresh water. Divers manage it by planning for the temperature at the bottom of their decent - hypothermia is no joke. Except, of course, when you tell a joke about hypothermia. Then it’s a joke.

Upwelling is a pretty scary word. It means that theres a slow moving current caused by offshore winds pushing surface water away from the shore. Would you dive?

a) Hell yes, the surface water moving away pulls up clearer, colder, water from under the surface.

b) Hell no - I value life.

Answer: A - you can still value life while diving in clear cold water. Upwelling can create excellent diving conditions.

When you find out please pop back and let me know… Just in case my diving buddy isn’t able to give up his/ her life so that I can swim to safety.

Regards

Shannon

The doctor told me yesterday that she’s a little worried about my ears. She’s cleared me for pool diving, but wants to take another look before I go jumping in the sea.

Diving last night was great, and I’m doing well so far. Because I got a one-on-one session with a lovely instructor dude called David I got quite a bit done. I’m comfortable in the water and with most of the basic skills so far, and aside from an errant flipper and the weight belt disaster of 2007 (Hold with right hand while flipping over to the left. Idiot.) I haven’t really done anything too stupid.

(Note to self: If you laugh under the water you will probably die. Plus people can hear you, and you look like a dork coughing up water from your snorkel.)(Yes I did that.)(Twice, even.)

All of that means nothing, however, if the doctor doesn’t clear me for sea diving. She’s happy with me in the pool, because it’s not likely I’ll damage anything if I can’t equalise. She’s not happy with me diving at sea because I’d be a lot deeper and subject to a lot more water pressure.

I was fine in the pool, although admittedly I equalised a whole heap more than I probably needed to while descending. (The Doctors’ umming and ahhing scared me silly…) While laying on the bottom of the pool at about 3m I felt a bit of pressure. It wasn’t painful, and equalising didn’t help, but it sure has made me worried about going deeper.

(Seriously, Dr Um should have either said no or yes. That way if I had to pull out I would have been seriously disappointed, but not hundreds of dollars out of pocket) (Fucking Dr.)

If I have to pull out before the sea dives I will be understandably disappointed (Read: Royally fucked off. There will be chocolate.) Lucklily my sense of self perservation is overriding my curiosity about what goes on under the water. 

At the end of the day I enjoy being able to hear, and that’s probably not going to change any time soon. Even if the thought of getting half way through this course and not being able to dive makes me want to punch things. People shaped things.

Also: Ahh! Calf cramp!

Boxing was fun. The wine had well and truly left my system by the time I had to strap on my gloves. Then I went and topped myself up with beer and pizza afterwards with the others from the gym.

I think the fun we all have hitting things together is the reason I haven’t gone up to the Victoria University Kickboxing to see if I can join in their fun yet. I think I’d miss having someone to gossip with, and I’d be the new person that is always getting it wrong and passing out because she’s not as fit as the dudes who have been there forever. That and diving is coming up, and I have to get onto running and bumping up the fitness for a possible tramping trip with the BF.

And on that whole fitness thing: Running is boring. The music at the gym blows. Staring at the wall gets boring. Where is this mythical ‘zone’ that everyone talks about? I don’t like running. The End. *

Or not quite - just one last thing… Diving is tonight, and I loved doing the homework! It was like the science homework in high-school - I loved that stuff. I did it for fun.

Did you know that the worst thing you can do while diving is hold your breath? If you did that you could blow up cause over expansion injuries your lungs. Did you realise that if you dived with goggles rather than a mask you could probably suck your eyeballs right out would experience a ’squeeze’. Also if you decided to challange your buddy to a 200 meter race at 20m under the water you’d be a fricking idiot probably experience some pretty full on symptoms of overexertion including a feeling of suffocation, weakness, fatigue, muscle cramping, laboured breathing, and I’d bet there would be a bit of anxiety and panic in there somewhere too…

*You have just been privy to one of Shannon’s famous whines. These are usually closely followed by footstamping and scowling. Stupid Running.

Oh Yeah! That’d be me! My ears ROCK.
 
I am the proud new owner of a medical certificate for diving! Send flowers and cards of appreciation to either student health services, or my Right inner ear. Your choice, they’re both equally as awesome.

Want to hear more about the impressive saga of Shannon’s SCUBA Diving Dreams? Check these babies out:

5 Reasons why I should do an Open Water Dive Course.

Do I do anything but whine? Answer: No.

Dear right hand inner ear,