Daddy

Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes. 

(Gloria Naylor)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was a whole group of people watching as I squatted on the paper shredder, laughing hysterically.  “Daddy, why are you cutting paper?  Daddy, am I in your way.”  I lifted the sharp arm of the cutter and got ready to slice.

“Now, Kristen, that’s very sharp.  If you’re not careful, you’re going to cut off your toes.  Why are you sitting on the paper cutter anyhow?”

“Daddy, really.  I’m not a kid.  I know it’s sharp and I’m watching.”  Dad threw his head back a little and smiled and laughed, “Well, you may not actually be a kid… but you’re acting like a kid.”  I gave him my all-time, most amazing ever defiant look that seems to say, “And what?”  I have been giving Dad this defiant look for as long as I can remember.  It’s an acceptable defiant look because he can’t get mad at me because I’m cute when I do it.  There’s defiance, but courage, and a hint of “do you really think you’re more stubborn than me?” with an additional pinch of “oh, you know I’m going to win this one” and a lot of “you know I’m mostly kidding, right now, right?” So he’s very used to the look and typically, it reigns.

He laughed again and said, “Ooookkkk…”  We slammed the blade down together. 

At this point, we had an audience.  My sister was there (Faith), Nathan’s girlfriend (Arielei), Nathan, and our friend Natti were all staring at us.  They were laughing.  But the laughter was unsure.  Almost like they weren’t sure why it was funny but knew it was and laughter didn’t really know how to respond.  But Dad and I knew what was going on.  I’m not sure what was going on.  But we knew.  There was definitely an understanding that what was going on was very funny.  My Gollum pose on the flat, large paper cutter was definitely not helpful, but I helping Dad get the job done.

Then I realized what I was doing!  I was helping him put invitations to Nathan’s Eagle Scout ceremony together.  But Nathan was right there – and he was the one who would be getting the presents and the money for this accomplishment.  Naturally, I thought then why isn’t he doing this.  Then I asked Dad.  “Alright, hold up!  If Nathan is the only who’s going to get all kinds o’ dinero outta this, how come I’m cuttin’ this paper? Oh, and why does it look like this?  Who put these together?!”

Dad said, “Well, I told Nathan I’d help him out.  I didn’t make you help.  And I put them together; what’s wrong with them?”  This would be when I felt it necessary to turn British on the old man.

“Oh, dad.  You know as well as I do that these look a tad… Well, Dad, they just, they just look like someone who doesn’t know how to use a computer put them together.  Which I guess is fitting since you don’t know how to use a computer.”  Yeah, I said it all in an British accent.  And Dad didn’t hear a word.  He just started laughing.  “WHAT?” 

I dropped the accent, “Dad, you know how to use computers and this proves it!  Lemme remake them.”

This whole thing went on for a while and we pretty much had an audience the whole time and Daddy and me laughed so much, I ended up with hiccups.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My daddy and I go way back.  Almost the whole time I’ve been alive.  Really.  I was nine months old before he met me.  From what I understand, those nine months sucked for me.  I went through three foster homes in the time it took for me to get that old.  And when I met my mom and dad, I apparently found peace.  They did feed me French fries as my first meal.  But that’s not the point.  The point is this – from the moment I was old enough to adore Dad, I have.  I love the guy.  A lot.  A lot.  He means the world to me. 

If you know me well at all, you know that my daddy and I have a strange connection.  Not weird strange.  But just not your typically Daddy/Daughter bond.  We are sometimes the only ones who know why we’re laughing and sometimes, I’m not sure that we even know why we’re laughing, it just makes sense.  We shouldn’t be allowed to sit across from each other or in such a way that we can see each other during ceremonies, services, etc.  We have a bad habit of making faces and communicating with only nonverbal that get us in trouble with Mom.  I can perform an intensely perfect, wonderfully exquisite impression of my dad playing the piano.  I’m probably cuter than him, though.  I don’t even really know how to express how much I love my dad.  I remember being a kid and wanting to be like him.  Which is probably a little weird.  I even pretended to shave with him when I was tall enough to reach the sink and see the mirror.  He always helped make sure I didn’t miss part of my chin or cheek. 

Dad and I are both really black and white and really stubborn.  It appears as if I can out-stubborn him at this point, though.  Which is quite an accomplishment.  When we butt heads, we butt heads.  There is nothing else to it.  It sometimes results in screaming.  Often crying.  We can get pretty upset with each other and we’ll go days without talking to each other.  We haven’t fought at all since I moved out.

I’ve lived away from home for about a year and a half now.  I only see my dad a few times a month really.  But I talk to him on the phone some and hear from him over the internet.  I don’t necessarily feel like I need to talk to him more or see him more, it’s not like we have a neglected relationship.    

He’s crazy and makes me mad, but I need him and I know that.  Every so often, my birthday and Father’s Day lands on the same day.  Sometimes it’s my favorite because it’s just like an extra bond we have.  I’m not even sure why it means anything to me.  It’s like “our” holiday or something.

I gotta say, I miss my daddy.

SCUBA in the Desert

This is the article I wrote this weekend:

During my summers as a child, my parents’, siblings, and I would meet my uncle at my grandparents’ home in Albuquerque for bar-b-ques and family time.  Before diving into their in-ground pool, we would take a walk.  My uncle was always reminding us not to swim before our food digested and a walk to “the park with the giraffe” was always a good distraction.  On the way to the park, we would pass a little scuba diving supply and class building.  My uncle always asked me what SCUBA stood for.  Each time, I proudly announced that it stood for “Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus.”   After returning to the house, we would all take turns diving into the “deep end.”  When I was young, I always thought diving was incredibly impressive.  I found great pride in being able to dive into the water and touch the bottom of the oh-so-deep nine foot deep water. 

My uncle went SCUBA and snorkeling on his honeymoon.  He took classes before the trip in order to learn how.  He had learned at the little shop we used to walk by so often.

The shop is the New Mexico SCUBA Center.  NMSC is one of Albuquerque and New Mexico’s few SCUBA shop and training centers.  They have about fifteen members on their training staff (including Samson the guard dog).  They offer various types of classes.  The option to just “try” SCUBA is one option and there are seven different types and levels of instructional classes.  Beyond that, a diver may update their skills or take any of about 13 types of specialty training classes.  New Mexico SCUBA Center is a great place to get trained and certified in this sport and these skills can be used to SCUBA in the desert.  The classes include an instructional trip to Santa Rosa and the Blue Hole.

Santa Rosa is less than two hours west of Albuquerque and a great place to put what you learn at NMSC to use.  The Blue Hole is a phenomenon that is found smack dab in the middle of the desert and many scientists have studied.  On the surface, its diameter is only 80 feet.  At the bottom of the water hole (which is over 80 feet deep), the diameter is at 130 feet.  The water in the Blue Hole remains at 64 degrees Fahrenheit.  When the water is still, the bottom of the hole is visible.  The water is recycled every six hours at a rate of 3,000 gallons of water per minute. 

While diving around in the deserts of Santa Rosa, it is often recommended that the more advanced divers train by diving down to see sunken twin-engine jet 55 feet down into Perch Lake.  There is a locally owned, privately operated SCUBA shop where additional equipment including oxygen and masks can be purchased.

In order to dive at the Blue Hole, a permit must be purchased and a PADI or NAUI certification is required.  Training for these certifications can be obtained through classes at NMSC.  Both certifications are worldwide training courses and will allow you to dive at most locations.

It is definitely a good idea to train for SCUBA before you plan on diving during vacation.  Like the Blue Hole, many vacation destinations involving SCUBA do require that the participants be certified. 

New Mexico is a target location for many different SCUBA training schools and even professional divers.  This desert is a wonderful place for any person to live if they are interested in vacation in exotic locations like Hawaii, Indonesia, Bali, Long Island, Egypt and many other destinations all over the world.

When he returned from the trip, he had dozens of pictures of gorgeous fish and underwater plants.  I already had an incredible fascination with water, but these pictures almost turned it into an obsession.  I decided that I wanted to learn to SCUBA.  I started trying to dive to the bottom of the pool with just my flippers from the surface of the pool. 

That is as far as I have gotten to learning this sport, but if you want get started, visit New Mexico SCUBA Center online, call them at 505/271.0633 or email them at nmscuba@qwestoffice.com.  Once certified, you will have already visited Santa Rosa’s Blue Hole, but the staff will help you plan your trip to more exotic locations including Cozumel, Key Largo, and South Pacific. 

With summer right around the corner, now is a great time to seize the day and get certified in this beautiful sport before vacationing.  There is certainly no better way to take in the vast, gorgeous ocean than to dive in and look through goggles at glorious fish, beautiful coral, live sponges, sharks, rays, dolphins and other awe inspiring sea creatures and plants. 

Thoughts...

So, I was thinking today.  Which is typically not a great thing.  But I was kinda doing some self-reflection and it dawned on me that for the most part, people only know one side of me.  But there are really two sides.  Not that I'm two-faced... But I'm not just crazy and zany.  Though that's most of what I am.  It's the basis of how I relate to people.  

For a long time, my email address was spazzblondie2004...  But one day my current boss who was then also my boss just in a different capacity said something that sorta hit home a little (really, it was only a little), "Kekky, you're not a spazz and you're not a 'blondie' like your email address implies.  You tend to present yourself as thought you're just a spazz."  (He's way more intelligent that that, so that's definitely not a direct quote.)

Now, it's probably four years later and I thought about it today.  It's really quite true.  I shouldn't always present myself so much as a crazy person.  I'm proud of my craziness but at the same time, most people never know there's anything to take seriously.  


All this realization really did was create frustration in my mind and make me need to ponder more about how I should really be presenting myself to people. It'll probably take four or five years before I actually think about it, but that's ok.

Water - Section 6

            One deep breath and I was off the wall, swimming my underwater-no-breathers.  Up, out, whip, I told myself. 

            Up, out, whip. 

            My body torpedoed through the water.  Both arms in front of my face, pull them back and push all the water around me away.  I was close the bottom of the pool.

            I could hear the rustling water.  I could hear my arms and hands and feet push the water around me.  I swam forward until I was close to the wall.

            Flip.  Turn.  Kick.  Glide.  I glided as far as I could before I started to stroke and kick.  I was going to make it even further this time.  This summer would be the summer I made it six lengths.  That would make Uncle David proud, I thought.

            I stroked, flipped, turned, kicked, glided, four more times. 

            I made it.  Six lengths.  I was more out of breath than I had ever been before.  I kicked off the bottom of the pool and threw my head above the cover.  I used my elbows to pull me out of the water and sit on the side of the pool.

            He would have been so proud.

*           *           *           *           *

            I didn’t want to watch the little boys anymore, so I decided to make it a game for them.  “Ok, boys.  I’m going to do a handstand in the water and before I come back up, you both need to have done two laps.  That means four lengths.  So you need to swim fast, so I can come up for breath.”  They both looked a little frightened. 

            “What if I go too slow, Kekky?”  Brandon was biting his nail.

            “You won’t.  I can do it.  I have swum the length of the pool six times on one breath.  I promise it’ll be ok.”

            “Okae,” he said in his ever-so-unique Brandon way.

            “On your mark, get set, go!”  I kicked my feet up and threw my hands onto the ground of the pool.  I was in my world of water and all I could hear was the rustling water of the boys kicking and stroking.  I thought about the beach and sound of the waves and the surf.  I didn’t count how long I was under the water.  My pointed legs and toes swayed in the water as they swam past.

            Finally, the water stopped moving.  I came up for air.  “Did you both swim as far as we said?”

            “Yes,” they said in unison.

            “Kekky,” Alex’s voice.  “Can you show us how you can swim underwater for six lengths?  Or can you even still do it?”

            I thought about it for a second before responding, “Sure, Buddy.  Well, I’m not sure I can still do it, but I’ll try.”  I walked to the end of the pool and worked up a deep breath.  I counted in my head and sunk down into the water.  I breathed in and kicked off the wall.

            I stroked and kicked.  Stroke.  Kick.  I flipped and turned.  I just kept telling myself I could do it.  I didn’t think about what would happen if I didn’t.  I thought about my uncle and how proud he would be if he knew I were teaching swimming lessons.  I couldn’t stop.

            Three lengths.

            You got this, I told myself.

            Four.  Five.  My lungs were aching.  I had already swum a mile that day and had been in the sun for two hours.  I hadn’t eaten anything and had only drunk two quarts of water.  Keep it up, Kekky, I told myself. 

            My kicking turned into a flutter kick.  I kept swimming.  Faster, harder.  I had to make it.  I had to swim six lengths.

            I made it to the wall.  I kicked my legs up over my head, flipped and turned.  I squeezed my stomach in, put my hands together in front of my face and fluttered my legs.  I swam as far as I could.

            My head got light and had to push to the top.  I went six and three quarter lengths.  That was over sixty meters on one breath.  I had to go to the side of the pool and take deep breaths.

            The boys were amazed.  I could only imagine how proud Uncle Dave would have been.  I wished he’d been there.

            “Boys, I’m glad you thought that was cool, but we need to keep swimming our laps.  Now, let’s go.”

            I swam next to Alex.  It gave me a sense of control to have my body stroking through the water.  Even with the boys cackling and gaffaws, I felt rested and peaceful as I pushed through the laps.

Water - Section 5

            “Shit!”  That was without a doubt Jackie’s voice.  “Daniel, what the fuck is wrong with you?  Why did you throw sand in my eyes, you little shit?”  She ran at him, full speed ahead and tackled him just before her dad’s hand grabbed her hair and yanked her away from her brother.

            The wrath of Uncle Scott is worse than the wrath of anyone else.  The rest of us dissolved from the situation.  Uncle Brad yelled, “Last one to the tent is a rotten egg!”  We all high tailed it out of there, sand and water splashing, the younger kids tripping, and the older kids charging.  I ran fast.  I had a six-foot stride that my dad was proud of.  I got to the tent first and sat down.

            Rather than keep us all calm, Uncle Brad decided we should all do handstands.  “Well, the girls should do handstands,” he clarified. 

*           *           *           *           *

            I held on to the side of the pool for a bit longer.  I kept splashing my face.  Just in case someone comes out here and can tell I have been crying, I told myself.  I walked myself to the shallow end of the pool. 

            All I could hear were my thoughts and the water swishing by.

            I didn’t want to hear my thoughts anymore.  I wanted to get them out.  I wanted to be distracted of my memories of Uncle David. 

            Swimming gave me peace.  Water calmed me down.

*           *           *           *           *

            We found the perfect spot where the sand wasn’t completely wet, but where it wasn’t completely dry, either.  We all put our hands down and kicked up our legs.  Being a gymnast, I held my legs pointed to the toe, knees together.  I stayed strong and straight.

            Uncle Richard started to yell, “Come on, girls.  Get those legs up there!”  The other girls had to keep redoing their poses.  The entire time, the six other girls floundered around with floppy leg syndrome.  Uncle Brad laughed as he watched Jaya and Lauren, the youngest two girls get more and more frustrated.  My handstand had not changed.

            Picture after picture.  “Hold it!” Uncle Brad yelled.

            Finally, after seven shots, we took an acceptable picture.  My cousins collapsed.

            I stayed in my inverted world and started to count the waves.

Water - Section 4

            It was a year later and I was swimming underwater-no-breathers.  This time, it was just me.  Uncle David had overdosed on heroine since the time I beat him.  It wasn’t the same to swim without him.  It’s never safe or prudent to swim with a cover on a pool, but I had always aspired to be like Uncle David.  And I had gone further than him the year before. 

            Stroke.  Stroke.  Stroke.  The kicking was getting harder and my lungs began to weigh me down.  I started to cry a little.  I had not practiced underwater-no-breathers without my uncle.  He had only been dead for a few months.  The idea of never seeing him again hadn’t truly sunken in yet. 

            The burning tears in my eyes made me need breath.  I swam to the side and brought my head over the water just high enough to breathe. 

            No one could have seen me if they came to the pool.  I was hidden from everything around me except the body of water that had so many memories floating in it.

*           *           *           *           *

            Before Uncle Richard, Aunt Kate and Grandma had time to really freak out about my safety, I put both my hands in the ground, bent my elbows and kicked my legs into the air.  I pointed my toes, tighted my legs and arched my back just enough to hold my handstand for a while.

            The blood rushed to my head again.  This time, I wasn’t really looking for peace and quiet.  I was just doing a handstand.  I hung there, upside down, for about two minutes before my cousins attacked.  I splashed into the ground and waged war.

            A water fight.  In the water.  Splashing and screaming.  It was mass chaos where no one was anyone’s ally.  “Every man for himself!” Uncle Brad yelled as he plowed into my older brother, throwing him into the surf.

*           *           *           *           *

            I swam 15 laps with Alex.  “Hey, buddy, how many laps are you at?” 

            “I’m already at 10,” he said sheepishly.  He knew he was too far behind.  He started stroking faster.

            “Brandon, how many push ups have you done?”

            “All of them.”

            “Sit ups?”

            “All of them.”

            “Ok, hop back in and you need to do your ten laps.  Alright?”  I kept my voice stern, but my frustration had dissipated.  I could tell Brandon was relieved by my tone.

            “Alex, you got this, dude!  I have faith in you.”  I saw tears begin to pop out of his welling eyes as he tried to hide them with the water and the splashing.

            Brandon never helped situations like this,  “Alex, why are you crying?”  His raspy voice sounded a little more sensitive than usual.  I swam to Brandon and whispered in his ear, “No need to ask him that.  Just keep doing your laps.  We’ll do a competition or something soon, k?  And then you won’t be swimming alone.”

Water - Section 3

            I was used to this.  A week in a beach house with 13 cousins and 11 aunts, uncles and grandma was a week of torment and agitation.  Even at 9-years-old, I felt a need for calm amidst the turmoil.  I body surfed my way back to the shore.  Searching to find some level of peace and quiet away from the screeching of relatives, I stayed on my stomach, laying in the surf.  The water sloshed up to me and pulled itself away.  The sand exfoliated past my body.  The sun beat down on my exposed back.  Tiny shells rolled and tumbled past me as my body began to sink deeper into the beach mud.

            The water dragged the mud around my body away, leaving an outline of where I lay.  I felt the sand get pulled away, trying to drag me into the water.

            Aunt Kate, Uncle Richard, and Grandma were still sitting under the tent.  I looked up and smiled at them.  Realizing they were watching, I wanted to give them a little scare.

            The water lapped over me and the tide kept pulling.  I floated with the tide ever so little.  With each wave, I slid a little further away.  With the tumbling of the surf, I finally allowed myself to be pulled under.

            I stayed under as long as I could.

*           *           *           *           *

            “Careful…. Careful….” I heard Uncle David encourage as I kept gasping for breath, doing everything in my power to fill my lungs enough to gloat about my victory.

            Finally, I blurted, “You only got four and a half! I got five!! I can’t wait to tell everyone. You’re over six feet and I’m under five!” 

            Laughing, he said, “Let’s try it again; that’s the only time you’ll ever beat me.”  I could feel my heart pounding.  It was beating so hard I could see my chest move up and down up and down.

            Panting, “Yeah, right.  You just don’t wanna look like a loser.  Plus, you used less of your energy since you weren’t swimming before the underwaters and you didn’t go as far as me!”  My stubbornness was coming out.  I had won and I was going to stick by that. 

            These were our first underwater-no-breathers of my sixth-grade summer.  I was 10.  And I beat my favorite uncle—a pool guy.

*           *           *           *           *

            At 17-years-old, I had the power to strike fear into that poor little kid’s face.  I had made my annoyance known and he could feel me getting more and more angry.  I had only known the boys for about nine months.   Their mom and dad had adopted them when they were seven and ten.  Immediately, I had felt a kinship with them.  Being adopted as well gave us a sort or similarity that we could identify with each other on.  I may have been 8 and ten years older than them, but we hit it off like siblings from the start.

            I lifted him up out of the water and calmly said, “No, you can’t make Alex do push ups, but you are more than welcome—and by more than welcome, I mean you have to—do 10 push ups and then 10 sit ups and add 10 laps to your list.”  His face looked like he might cry.  I felt some sympathy for the downtrodden kid.  He was a lot like me.  I had always been a troublemaker.  And I have to admit, I was still a little rambunctious then.  I was willing to have fun and enjoyed causing trouble.  I could completely relate to Brandon’s frustration.

            As he started his push ups, I patted his little buzzed, brunette head and said, “You can do it, Buddy.  You know you don’t need to be rude to your brother like that, and this is how you’re going to learn.”

            Taking a deep breath, I flicked both my feet up into the air and pushed my head underwater.  I stayed under and swam to the other end of the pool to catch up with Alex.  I decided it was time to make this a little easier on him, “I’ll swim the laps with you, Alex, but you need to keep up with me at least some.  You can’t be more than four laps behind.”

            “K.  Thanks, Kekky,” he pushed his head under just before me and kicked off the wall.

Water - Section 2

            My quiet was torn from me when Uncle Brad pushed my legs over my head.  My legs splattered into the sloshy mud and sprayed him with brown, gooey mud.  Laughing, he picked me up, jostling as he fought the surf.  I smelled alcohol and tobacco on his skin.  At just the right time, he threw me into the crest of a minor wave. 

            The water drowned out the boisterous laughter of my family.

*           *           *           *           *

            As I struggled to finish the last lap, I moved my arms towards me with my strength as I torpedoed through the water.

            I could see the wall at the end.

            Swim.  Swim.  Swim.  Just a few more strokes, I thought.  Swim.  I put my right arm in front of me and stretched it out.  My middle finger finally touched the wall and bounced off the bottom of the pool, gasping for breath almost before my face broke into the air.

            I swam five lengths—underwater the whole time.

*           *           *           *           *

            I sunk down low into the water, crashing into silence.  Before floating to the top, I began my stroke.  Freestyle.  Your arms aren’t like a windmill because they are bent ever-so-slightly and your hands are cupped for better water-movement.  I blew all my air out into the water with a slight scream and rolled my head onto my left ear to take a breath. 

            Stroke.  Scream the air out.

            Breathe.

            Stroke.  Scream the air out.

            Breathe.  Brandon’s splashing into my mouth was my cue to shove my legs to the bottom of the water and stand up.  The shallow end was “Brandon’s Area.”  He did shorter laps while Alex got a real work out. 

            My face must have shown the little eight-year-old boy how frustrated I was.  He immediately began to swim faster.

            I walked to where he was and put my hand under his belly.  His cue.

            He rolled over and put his dark, prunish right hand on my right forearm and in his raspy, young voice said, “Kekky….” Brandon was not quite questioning, but the tremor in his voice showed he wasn’t sure what to say or do.

Water - Section 1

I've written for a long time.  I write a lot.  But because of Brad Paisley's performance last night - I have been remembering one piece I wrote.  It's called "Water."  I wrote it for a class.  It's a segmented essay (meaning it's multiple stories smashed into one... in segments).  I'm going to post three segments a day for a few days.  Just because.  It'll also give me a chance to review the piece since I'm planning on getting it published eventually.  It fits within my family... or something like it quite well. 

Here are segments one through three:

          My pruney fingers were sinking further and further into the slippery, suctioning mud created by the frothy, rolling waves of the North Carolinian beach.  I remember a feeling of calm coming over my body as the blood rushed to my head, turning my face read and causing a brief headache.  Watching the waves upside down created a sense of calm I had not experienced before.  I lifted my head just enough to notice that the tide was actually pulling my entire body further away from my family’s tent.

            I counted each wave that rolled past my face.  One… two… three… The loud peacefulness of the waves was interrupted by the deafening obnoxiousness of my aunts, uncles and cousins screaming, “Kristen! Kristen!”  They had all started to run into the ocean and collide with the smashing waves. 

            I remained in my slothful, inverted world of peace. 

*           *           *           *           *

            “Kekky, I already swam 17 laps!  Can I stop yet?” 

            “Alex, you and I both know that you have to be able to swim 500 meters before camp or you won’t have any fun!  Camp is next week and 17 laps barely scratches 500 meters.  Start over—that’s what you get for complaining!” 

            Lying on my stomach with my left arm and leg dangling into the pool, I closed my eyes hoping to find a moment of tranquility as I coached the boys’ swimming.  The sloshing and sprinkling of the water from their messy flutter kicks was the only refreshment my skin experienced.  I could almost feel beating, hot, New Mexican sun turning my skin to leather. 

            “Kekky!”  Brandon’s gravelly, raspy, yet high-pitched voice broke through the silence I had mustered in my mind.  “Kekky!”  His little hands were splashing water into my face as he floundered around on his turquoise kick board.

            “Yes, Brandon!” I couldn’t hide the annoyance in my voice.

            “Can I make Alex do push ups since he complained?”  Being the younger of the two brothers, Brandon always tried to make life harder on Alex during swim lessons.

            “Brandon!!!”  Alex’s voice cracked as he tried to muster a deep threat to Brandon.  That’s all I needed to hear to know that I needed to roll myself into the refreshing water and conduct damage control.

*           *           *           *           *

            Keep going, I thought to myself, You’ve only gone three lengths.  You did five last year.  The water was bluer when I swam my laps under the pool cover.  There was less light and the water seemed torpid even with my kicking and stroking.  The goggles I was wearing felt like they were getting tighter and tighter on my face as the water slowly moved over my face.  I thrust my arms out in front of my face and pulled them through the water, towing my body just over the bottom of the pool.  Keep going, Kristen, keep going I thought to myself.  Uncle David is still going; you have to keep up with him. 

            My lungs began to feel heavy and my heart began to beat faster.  I had no more air in my lungs.  I knew I couldn’t make another length.  The bottom of the pool seemed to push me away.

            A flick of my ankle pushed my face closer to the bottom.  This year, there was no temptation to use the floor to help propel my body towards the end.  I drew my knees towards my chest, spread at the knees and kicked them together.  I could hear Dad’s voice in my mind, “Up, out, whip,” walking me through my underwater-no-breathers. 

            As I approached the end, I pushed my head further under the water.  My legs went over my head and pushed off the wall of the pool.  I kept my arms pointed together in front of my head.  Chin tucked.  Belly sucked in.  Thighs and calves touching; toes pointed.  My lungs felt like they were weighing me down as my body glided through the blue water.

            I felt bubbles break through the water and hit my face when Uncle David fluttered his legs and glided past me as he lifted his head toward the top of the pool.  His head broke the surface of the water and lifted the blue bubble pool cover.  He walked towards the side of the pool.

            Good!  Uncle David only made it four and a half laps—you make it five and you beat him good!

Face of Fox Video

Check this out!  And help me be the Face of Fox in Albuquerque! 

Smiles.

I smile a lot.
I smile several times a day.
I have made hundreds and hundreds of people smile.
Making people smile has been a goal since my uncle died about 11 years ago.

But here's the kicker.  I hate smiling for the camera.

When I smile in just a natural situation - laughing at my own joke (which happens all too often), laughing at someone else's joke, meeting someone, teasing someone, making fun of someone, telling a dumb story, hearing a dumb story - I am not self conscious at all.  Smiling like that is normal.  Everyone does it.  Smiling for a camera is creepy.

Seriously.  Thinking about it.  You're making this face that's all "I'm happy and have nice teeth."  Then they are going to do God knows what with the picture.  They could show other people, put it on the internet, put it in a frame and then you're basically a piece of museumery.  THAT is creepy.

I don't smile for cameras.  And people hate that.  I will make scads of goofy faces for a camera (seriously even thought about making a book out of my facial expressions - I think it could cheer people up), but I hate smiling for the camera.  

Plus also, I already have smile lines and don't really want those to be recorded.  And my eyes get poofy when I smile.  And my cheeks are round.  So, all in all, it's best that I just make a goofy face for the camera.  It's better.  And people laugh.  And that's way better than hearing, "Oh, my gosh!  How cute are you!?"  Because we all know I don't look cute when I'm "smiling for a camera" and therefore people are lying.  PLUS when I'm laughing hysterically, I'm obviously smiling in some way, and that's always more fun.  When I got my senior pics taken for college, everyone's favorites were the ones where I was laughing or being serious.  I think it's because a boring "oh, hey, look at me" smile isn't me.

I don't even know what I'm saying.  Just that smiling for the camera is dumb.  I won't do it.

To get a website, or not to...

...THAT is the question.

I'm leaning towards yes.  Let's talk this out:

Who:  Me.  Duh.

What:  A website.

When:  When I get around to it!  Stop pressuring me!  (Just kidding... the voices got to me...)

Where:  Are you stupid?!  The internet.  It's a website.

Why:  Because other, apparently less interesting girls have websites that are actually making them money and all they are doing is talking about technology or talking about their views on things such as sex.  So, from what I hear (my boss has told me this), I need to have a website.  And as of late, I'm starting to think I should.


I get bored easily and only have one full time job and am not really doing much with my life outside of work (as you will understand if you read my previous post).  Having something to do like manage a website would help keep me entertained.  Plus, the internet is an amazing thing and one person can change lives or at least parts of lives by talking about their views, opinions, and thoughts.  


There are two broads that my boss talks about.  He talks about this one chick who blabs about shenanigans regarding technology.  I've looked her up.  She's kinda interesting.  Rather cute.  But sorta boring.  The other chick seems boring enough I've never even thought to look her up.  She talks about sex from a Christian's perspective while wearing goofy socks.


Ok.  Here's the deal.  I basically am a goofy sock because I'm such a ridiculous person.  I wear crazy clothes about 90% of the time.  Wear stripes and polka dots at the same time.  I'm stupid.  So, I guess I really just mean that goofy socks barely mean anything because I dress like one big goofy sock all the time anyhow.  I talk about sex all the time because I have the sense of humor of a dude.  There is no way you could watch a website with me talking about sex and be under 18.  I'm not really geeky enough (in my mind) to talk geeky stuff for too long.  Plus that would just get boring.  So I really have no idea what I would do with a website.


Here are my thoughts on what I could do:


Move "tis Not a blog" to the website.
Incorporate pictures of my facial expressions (but only crazy ones).


That is all.  I hate being in front of a camera and I hate being in front of a video camera and am not sure that I could plaster my face all over the internet in such a braggatory way.  There is a difference between a website and a Facebook profile.  Ya know?


Website names:


www.thekek.com
www.keksize.com


Those are basically the only two I like the sound of.  So..... Yeah.  I'm still thinking about it.  And I'm sure I'll end up doing it.  I just don't know what or why or how.