Oceans, Mountains, and a new Snorkel

Hi. My name is Tishabug, and I'm a scaredy-cat.  err.. scaredy-bug?

When anyone suggests, in even the slightest of passings, that I should try something new or go even a step outside my comfort zone, my initial, internal reaction goes something like this:

"No."

Then, thank goodness, my sanity kicks in a little, and counters with a more logical reaction,  something like this:

"Heck to the bazillion-plus nos!"

Unfortunately, my Mommabug brought me up better than that. So my *third* internal reaction takes me into pep talk mode, trying to determine what is truly the worst thing that is likely happen (usually nothing too awful) and whether I'll regret not trying it later. (Probably.)  

And then, there's still a reasonably decent chance I'll talk myself out of it, especially if there's no one to do it with--at least, noone who I can trust not to laugh (too hard).

Nonetheless, I do find that I have to occasionally, grudgingly give in to adventures that will expand my horizons.  Because, as it turns out, this is necessary to maintain my masquerade as a Normal Person. Also, sometimes, I give in just to make the B.H.E. shut up about it.

And since I have to give in, I try to put all the "try" I can muster behind it, and go in as whole-hog body and soul (but not so much pocketbook - I'm pretty cheap) as I can.

The latest adventure I've let myself be talked into is SCUBA certification.  

Despite enjoying a good pool swim, and having a half-bajillion (give or take 3) Caribbean snorkeling trips under my belt, being out in any natural body of water alarms me.  

But many friends have suggested SCUBA, and I've often thought it would be nice to get even closer to the magical worlds we see from the surface…  And then…  B.H.E. found a Groupon.  (Truly, I ask you, who can resist a good Groupon?)  So SCUBA lessons it is.

It's been an intense week, with about 10-12 class hours and 6 pool hours crammed into 3 weeknights (after a full day at the office),  and 5 open water dives scheduled for 2 sessions this weekend… but the feeling of accomplishment is pretty awesome.  I even bought my own mask and "dry" snorkel--a million times better than the cheapos we usually get offered on snorkel tours. And they match! Who knew a new snorkel could be this exciting?

Today was the first set of open water dives:  About 3-4 hours in a very murky lake, doing a series of skills at various depths.   Even after modest success in the pool, I was nervous.  But we went, I did it, the instructor (who knew I was pretty nervous) even said I did a good job, and was quite proud of me.

I thought I'd gone a little off on a couple of the skills… but after talking to the others in the class, it sounds like I didn't come off any worse than they did.   

   In fact, the only notable snafu - the only point where I slowed the rest of the class,  came after the dives were done.  In the climb (in full gear) up from the shore to the parking lot (have I mentioned Texas is in a multi-year drought, so the water level is insanely low?),  I fell.  And then I faltered.  

And finally my wobbly post-SCUBA legs and top-heavy gravitational configuration just didn't want to carry all that weight up the dusty Slope.  

More like sandy Hillside.  

A Really Steep Rocky, Pebbly hillside.

As in, "When the heck did Texas grow a Mountain?!?!?" 

Nonetheless, I passed today's dives.

So as long as I pass the final dive tests tomorrow, I'll be an ANDI certified diver, allowed to to dive 100 feet into the wonders of our planet's inner space.  I will have proved I can do this horrifically scary thing, and then, thank goodness, I'll never have to do this scary thing again.  

But I probably will.  I really should go see what those Caribbean conchs look like up-close in their natural habitat. And it turns out, it's pretty peaceful down there, where humans can't talk.  Besides, we found a really good deal on a trip to St Lucia, that includes all the diving we can take.

 I just hope mountain-climbing won't be on the final.

Pertaining to Long Words

My name is Tishabug, and I'm a wordaholic. 

I love words nearly as much as I love books. 

I love how words look, how they feel in my mouth, the power they hold to reveal or conceal, how, short or long, a single word can become a whole story in itself.   

  Over the years, I've picked up new and interesting words from signs, by listening, through reading (rather a lot), from daily word emails, and as co-captain of the Terre Haute North Vigo High School state championship SpellBowl team. (Why, yes, it is quite appropriate to bow.)  

I've even been known to make up a word or two in my time.

 I don't often, if ever, use most of the interesting words I've collected. As much as they delight me, I have also learned the  value of speaking plainly and clearly -- to eschew obfuscation of my oral intent via sesquipedalian declamations.  

A fancy words just isn't very useful if the person you're talking to isn't crystal clear on it's meaning and connotation.

So I continue to collect words in silence.  Some are big, some are simple, some delight me in their appropriateness, their puniness, or that just look, when written out, very much like or opposite from their meaning.  Sometime, I even look at word I've known for decades,  and find that truly looking at it on the written page, it seems all of a sudden alien.

One of my favorite words came my way from the book Crazy English, by  Richard Lederer:   

Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian

This is certainly one of the most delightful words I've ever met.

First, it's impossible not to smile at the utter silliness of its pieces and parts. I can just see hippopotamuses (or is it hippopotami?) and monsters, quipping and skipping joyfully around a sundial. 

Second, speak it.  Say it out loud.  Feel it roll around your mouth like a month-old puppy let out on the fresh grass after a long afternoon in his crate.  It makes the mouth unabashedly happy.

Now, consider the appropriateness of its definition. It's an adjective meaning "pertaining to extremely long words." How perfect is a word that defines its very self!

Finally, consider all of these as you look at the word on the typed screen.  Notice how it starts all big and wide and round, and roly-poly, just as it sounds, proudly showing off its excessive width.  Then as it nears the end, it squishes tighter together, trying to make room for every last letter, holding its breath to fit those last letters in before it runs out of space.

Yes indeed, it's a Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian delight.

 Just thinking on this word is, in spite of myself, bringing a little up-curved grin to the side of my mouth.

But, for all that, I'm glad I never faced this word in SpellBowl competition. The sudden appearance of 150 imaginary quipping monsters and hippopotami (or is it -muses?) would surely have instigated an official challenge from our team nemesis, those unimaginative arch-rivals from Bloomington South.

Reading Like a Velociraptor

I've always been a voracious reader.  

I love that adjective here. Voracious. Try moving your mouth around it's delightfully vicious syllables.  Now think of a Jurassic Park-style velociraptor attacking a book with his long, sharp, hungry teeth… ripping it to shreds, devouring it, grinning with the anticipation of a sated appetite as every bite goes down his craw.

That's how I read. I devour books with eager, hungry abandon:  getting what I want or need out of the book, not worrying if the odd bit or corner or sentence falls along the wayside. I eat each book up, feeding my hunger for stories, for knowledge, for understanding, for escape.

And yet, I've always struggled with literature classes, and continue to struggle with literary criticism or analysis.  I rarely come up with the "right" answers in class, and, more importantly, find that I just don't really care. 

 The best part of books, to me, is that they leave openings for the imagination to fill in the blanks and create the pictures.  A book is like a conversation: shaped as much by the nature of the listener/reader as by the words of the talker/writer.  The writing and storytelling of the author are certainly important, but their meaning for me, the reader, is shaped as I read by my own life experiences, sometimes even by the time and place I read any given sentence.  

Perhaps it's time to finally get around to finding a book club, to give me the extra excuse to find more time to read. 

Except for that part where I don't actually like to  discuss or critique books with a bunch of strangers, because it is a little too much like baring my soul...  

Maybe I can just bare my voracious velociraptor fangs instead. 

Or , you know, distract them with wine and cookies.

Some Good Reads...

Recent favorites :  The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern;  A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness

Currently reading : Little, Big by John Crowley

What good books have you read lately?