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blogs, Blogs You Love, Dads, Fathers, Florida, Growing Pains, growing up, Hooker B, Hooker B Washington, Jenny Lawson, jobs, Memoir, Nurse Sharks, Reading, Satire, Spear Fishing, Stories, Story Telling, The 90s
Whyyyyy.
Okay, so I know why. All those depression posts actually got depressing and then I went all unemployed and things happen. Maybe we can rehash that. Maybe not. I really prefer to not. It’s kind of like since November 13, 2013 I’m pretty sure I’m okay with never revisiting all the bad.
For now, there is some good. I figured I needed to get into a better habit of writing if I’m really going to do this memoir thing. Because I was super gung ho like two days ago and I’ve already lost my steam. That was two.days.ago. What is with this? Half assery.
Anyways, I started reading Jenny Lawson’s book, “Let’s Pretend this Never Happened“. Which started a spiraling effect of word ideas and short stories that just started coming out like word vomit. I know I don’t own the rights to that phrase, but it was word vomit. Realizing that her stories paralleled much of my own life, it seemed a waste to let all these unwritten memories go to waste. Especially when I was in such a humorous state of mind. For those of you who have not read this, READ IT NOW. I don’t advise reading this in a Starbucks though, you will laugh latte all over yourself and that guy who hasn’t let emo go, will be staring at you. And there is nothing more humiliating than when the guy who still thinks Evanescence is relevant, is staring at you.
Let’s backtrack for a second though. As of not too long ago, I began my first real big girl job that requires regular daylight hours, only being here Monday through Friday, and I’m home in time for dinner. Except I make dinner. So there’s really no benefit to that. However, having all this night time left I’ve become a somewhat restless happy person. Money arrives every Thursday into my checking account like clockwork and I can actually afford to keep some of it. Weird huh? The best part about it all is that this whole part people keeping bitching about, working, isn’t so hard. I’m being paid to entrust that no one enters my building with something that can explode and then they leave. But if they do bring in a big boom, at least they signed in so we can account for body parts. It’s what we like to call in the energy industry, a “win-win”.
I’m kidding.
Sidenote: Don’t let cool whip dry, it’ll make you question every other time you’ve eaten cool whip. Don’t do this. I love cool whip.
So word vomit. It’s just happening right? Everything is now a hilarious story in an otherwise unfunny everyday routine. But there’s now sun and happy and laughing and all the good shit. Since I’m currently being paid to pretend to learn Chinese, expertly Google, and window shop on Amazon I feel it’s best to drop by here more often. If anything to just improve upon stories like this one:
When we had first moved to Florida in 1998, my dad expressed an undying interest in wanting to purchase a boat. A boat superior to the dingy he had bought to go on trips to Put-In-Bay in the summers we lived in Ohio. This sparked my irrational fear of sharks, before ever seeing one in real life, or watching “Finding Nemo”.
Fast forward to 1999, after my brother was born and my dad was on his second marriage. He had purchased a 27″ Maxim cabin cruiser, interior complete with brass accents and orange carpeting. On this particular weekend, my father had given up on trying to convince all of us that this was his fishing boat. Three kids under the age of ten and limited space had finally defeated him, subsequently resulting in a sandbar outing. Recently, he had discovered this dive called Jimbo’s, (if you were there pre-fire you know the smoked fish was worth the creepy sacrifice) and equipped with it’s own sandbar it made for a decent hangout. What he had failed to mention, was this was unlike our other beautiful blue waters we had grown accustomed. The water was murky, if visible at all, and suddenly my irrational fear about Jaws began to surface.
Meekly I ask if there is anything that can ‘get me’, “Yes, Ciara, there are sharks in the water”, my dad blurts out. I’m staring at my step mom carrying first, my baby sister to shore, and then my baby brother, a shark snack. What mother does this!? Carrying babies like something isn’t going to eat them up whole?Seeing, what I assume, was a look of absolute fear on my face, my dad backtracks his statement by telling me they’re only ‘nurse sharks’. “Nurse sharks don’t have teeth, they just suck up what’s left on the bottom of the ocean. The worst one could to do is gum your arm. They’re harmless!”Having debunked several other irrational fears, it was a safe bet that this was the honest to God’s truth. “Nurse sharks. Harmless. Got it.”
The summer before my senior year of high school I spent roughly six weeks with my dad. He had moved on to an open fish, which is just boat lingo for ‘better fishing boat’. He was teaching me to free dive with some of his work friends, and occasionally would spot a snapper he needed to spear. By need I mean he used to have a catch phrase, “I kill things that blink”. During his spear fishing ADD, one of the work friends spots a nurse shark, and timidly dares me to grab it’s tail. He keeps telling me it’s a tiger shark (something you don’t want to pull the tail of), I assure him I know what I’m doing. Twice I dive down and pretend to tempt my fate as a daredevil with the imposter shark.
Swimming back to the boat I explain this silly story about a ‘fake tiger shark’, the dare, and mission accomplished. Mid laugh, this is my dad, “Why the hell would you do that!?!? That shark could’ve ripped your arm off!” “No dad, it was a nurse shark, they don’t even have teeth, remember?” “Seriously?”
“Yeah you said it could just gum me, so..”
“Forget what I said, it’s like a suction cup that sucks your arm off”
And more to come.
As Always,