There's a Shark in the Swimming Pool

This was my final essay for an online English class I took this summer. It was supposed to be a causal analysis essay in which you analyze the cause and effect of something. In this case, I'm analyzing my irrational fear of water, fish, and sharks. Feel free to critique. Enjoy :)


All of my friends know how to swim. I’m the only one who doesn’t. Swimming in pools as a kid meant that I sat on the steps or only waded where I could touch the floor. I love boat rides and being on the lake, but I’m terrified of fish and being in lake water makes me feel vulnerable. Therefore, going to the lakes consists mostly of my friends doing water sports and swimming in the middle of the lake while I stay safely sprawled out on the boat. My irrational fear of fish and being in lakes was caused by growing up with holes in my eardrums and not knowing how to swim.
When I was a baby, I had tubes in my ears. As a toddler, I took swimming lessons in the baby pool like most kids do, learning to float and doggy paddle. After the tubes fell out, they left holes in my eardrums. I couldn’t go underwater and didn’t like how earplugs felt, so I convinced my mom to take me out of swimming lessons right before graduating to the big pool. One time, as I clung to the side of a hotel pool, kicking my feet behind me, I lost my grip and slipped underwater. The deafening sound of silence terrified me and I had never felt more vulnerable. Even though I could have touched the pool floor, my panic held me underwater, trying to find the surface or even the wall. When I finally grabbed hold of the side, my ears had filled with water. The rest of my day was spent avoiding the pool and trying to shake the water from my ears. I thought for sure I should have drowned. My 5-year-old self was traumatized.
My fear of being underwater caused my even more irrational fear that if water wasn’t going to kill me, sharks were. I have a vivid memory of being in the public pool across the street from my childhood home with two neighbor kids. It was a hot, slow day and we were some of the only people there. I sat on the pool steps, away from the threat of drowning in the shallow end or of fish suddenly appearing and eating my feet. I splashed my feet around in the shallow water while my two friends swam freely in the deep end. Suddenly, I heard their 7-year-old voices singing the theme song to “Jaws” as they swam over and pretended to be sharks, laughing and nipping at my feet with their hands. I screamed and ran out of the pool onto the hot, dry cement. Embarrassed, I laughed it off, but didn’t go back in the pool for the rest of the day. After that day, I spent the better part of my childhood believing that sharks were lurking in the shadowy parts of the pool. Even into my teenage years, the image of a shark would drift into my mind and I would instinctively lift my feet off the floor in a panic until I realized I was in a public pool in North Dakota and nowhere even near the ocean.
Even more unreasonable than a shark showing up in a pool, I grew up afraid that a shark would attack me in my shower. I used to have these ridiculous images in my head of a shark emerging through the bathtub floor and gobbling me up. I’m mostly over that fear because of its obvious impossibility. However, I was recently at a friend’s lake cabin when this fear unexpectedly resurfaced. I was showering and had my eyes closed while I was washing soap off of my face. I suddenly felt vulnerable. When I opened my eyes I realized that the color of the walls were the color of the ocean. The color of the shower curtain became a shark’s back and the white of the bathtub his belly. I panicked and had to stop and tell myself that there was no way a shark could be in the upstairs of a lake cabin in Bemidji, MN.
One would assume after the holes in my eardrums closed up around age 13 that I would overcome my fears. This was not the case. My fear of sharks in pools and showers caused me to fear sharks in lakes. If I open my eyes underwater in a pool, I can see pretty clearly to the other side. However, in a lake, all I see is murky shadows. My feeling of vulnerability underwater is amplified in a lake because I can’t see what’s in the water around me. While my illogical fear of lake sharks isn’t as big as it used to be, my fear of killer fish is. Even when I let my feet hang off the boat at any friend’s lake, I imagine what my feet look like from the view of a fish. Then, I picture the fish maliciously attacking me from the depths of the water. I still can’t even sit near a fish that’s mounted on someone’s wall because I think it will come to life for the sole purpose of harming me.
If I would have learned to swim at a young age I probably wouldn’t have these irrational fears. Innocent things like neighbor kids goofing off in the pool or me unexpectedly going underwater have culminated in me believing that giant fish are out to get me and sharks are lurking in showers. I wish I wasn’t so afraid of what’s living in water. My goal is to learn how to swim, but I keep putting it off because of my fears. However, if I knew how to swim, I may not feel so helpless in water and probably wouldn’t be as afraid. Whether or not I learn how to in the near future, I know for sure that I’m making my kids learn how to swim.

Stuck In A Rut

Well, the semester's over and now I'm on a (seemingly) never-ending job hunt. Oddly enough, the movie "It's Complicated" got me thinking about what I'm going to do with my art major. No, the movie has nothing to do with art-related jobs. However, she has this big yard with a huge, beautiful garden and I suddenly realized that my art degree is not going to pay for that. So I starting thinking about other things I like to do that I could tack on as a minor. I came up with writing and singing, both of which would make me no more money than Art. For a brief period, I found myself panicking about the choices I've made so far and how they may effect my long-term future. Naturally, I texted Taylor and consulted facebook, both of whom assured me that I'd find a job. There are a lot of options for me. I'm still browsing the minors page on the U's website and will have to get some advice from my advisor though. Maybe I'll teach, open a gallery, be a curator, design and build theater sets, sing, or throw everybody for a loop and become a pastry chef. Who knows!? All I know is that I'll love what I'm doing. And I can deal with a small garden.

On a side note, I stumped a guy friend when I proved to him that I know more about tools than he does! He didn't know the difference between an angle grinder and a die grinder...and who says tools are for boys?

Hullabaloo

Lately I've been working my butt off in the sculpture studio starting and finishing projects and writing/editing papers for my never-ending writing intensive classes. My (diabetic) friend Erica and I hadn't seen eachother in a week or two because she's been so busy as well. So today we ventured out to Target and Menards in search of cake-making ingredients and sculpture supplies. We each filled a bag at Target, then schlepped them over to Menards. Some people consider Menard's a man's store and all the areas we found ourselves in (building supplies, screws, etc.) were like a guy's hangout. And there we were, two girls with a cart full of groceries and a laundry list of supplies. Naturally, I forced them all to be friends with us as they led us to what we were looking for. After telling them we didn't have a car and that we would in fact be carrying these giant sheets of foam on the public bus, we ended up in the employees only section of the warehouse, maneuvering between forklifts as "Jerrick" led the way to the yard. In the end, we loaded up four 2ft x 4ft sheets of polystyrene foam onto the metro bus. Myself and the foam took up four seats. People were not happy. I then dragged the foam, an oak board, and another bag with a few supplies in it across campus to my dorm. It was a big hullabalo. And now I'm off to the studio to cut the wood and make the foam into something cool. That's all for now.

Breezy

Spring Break in FARGO

It was so nice to be home :) I got to hang out with my family and see old friends. Everyone thought we were gonna have some huge flood like we did last year, but we definitely didn't. Which was good! But it was cloudy and menacing most of the week, which I feel led people to believe their houses were going under. But Fargo did it again! We had over a million sandbags!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I turned 21. Two years ago I thought this day would never come, and suddenly it has come and gone and it was fun! The elegant HoDo, bros at Rooters and Irish fun at Dempsey's. It was really fun. So I hadn't gone out since my birthday on friday until St. Patrick's day and didn't even go to the bars then- I couldn't get myself to brave the frat guys and drunk girls at Dempsey's. Anyway, I'm happy to be of age- now I can sing karaoke and go to shows with my brothers!

Last week I had an interview at Red Lobster. This was a terrible idea considering my irrational fear of underwater creatures. I walked in for my interview and found myself waiting on a bench next to a tank of lobsters looking all sad with their pinchers tied up. Forcing myself to look away, I nearly screamed when I saw a life-size stingray and had to face a different way to avoid its beady eyes. The rest of the interview consisted of me trying not to stutter over questions about teamwork while my eyes darted away from nautical-patterned wallpaper, all the while with the tag still in my cardigan. I should stay away from sea-themed restaurants.

I started watching Mad Men. It's fantastic. I was avoiding watching it because I knew I'd love it and really don't have time in my life to follow another show. However, I'm committed now. I love Mad Men. Their clothes, the music, even their voices. It's too late to turn back now.

And now, a turn:
I was feeling sentimental today. Maybe that's not the right word, but I was feeling something.
When I was a kid, I would go about my day without even considering that someone could be judging me, categorizing me. Even dancing, in the crazy way kids do, I never thought about it. Things were more fun before we learned about our insecurities. But we taught one other to be afraid. When I was a kid, I put on certain clothes just because they were comfortable or the colors made me smile. Now, before I put on clothes, I stand in front of the mirror forever, asking myself if I look ok. And now, when I dance, I assume people are watching and judging. “Carefree” goes by a different definition after a certain age. When you're 4, it literally means you don't have a care. When you're 21, it means that you care a little bit less than everybody else. In the fall, I stomped grapes in Cortona, Italy. A local woman's 4-year-old girl named Marguerita was there. After the stomping, we all started dancing to Italian music and she joined in. And the minute she did, we all let go. Even Gino, the 72-year-old gardener, was a child again. We danced for what seemed like hours, and I didn't for a moment feel judged. People grew tired and, eventually, only Ari, me, and Marguerita remained. We followed her lead, imitated her dance. She taught us what we had forgotten, before we learned how to be insecure.

Aluminum schluminum

I realized on Saturday night that my aluminum foundry chop (a sort of "stamp" for marking which mold is yours) was due on monday and not wednesday. My anxieties were heightened when I remembered that the studio is closed on Sundays. So monday morning, bright and early (8:30...not that early to most people), I went to the studio and got to work. Then, not having a handle for my foundry chop, I had to take the metro to Menards to buy a miniature table leg. I rode it there (the bus driver insisted I explain to him what I was making that required supplies from Menards), got my table leg, went back to campus, and ate lunch, all the while with my face, neck, and hands covered in dirt and sand and my jaw aching for God knows why. I was quite the sight. I kept working on my piece and, after asking for help from an upper-level student working in the tool shop, he broke the news to me that we had the right size bit for tapping, but no tap-handle, which is apparently necessary. THEN, he told me to walk to Waylon's hardware store 4 blocks away that I didn't know existed. Eventually, I got the tap handle and finished my project. (WOO!) To top it off, I figured out the pain in my jaw is my wisdom teeth coming in. Guess I should have gotten them out 3 years ago like my dentist told me to..

Some good things today and this week:
1. It's finally warm enough to wear my red moccasins. My feet feel so good in them.
2. The weather is cloudy, but the temperature is perfect.
3. My birthday AND spring break are in 3 days!!
4. I have "Tourist Trap" by Bright Eyes playing in my headphones
5. My peacocktopus (originally to be made in bronze) will be made in iron for $200 dollars cheaper!

Time for my "Geology and Cinema" class. Yes. That class exists.
Breezy

Bowling, Diabetes, and Bus Drivers

Well, classes have started! I'm taking a Metalcasting class (among other not as exciting, but still interesting classes) which is really fun so far and promises to only get even more fun.

The past week I've learned that Diabetic camaraderie is the best kind of camaraderie and it's always helpful to befriend the campus busdrivers.

Being that I'm new to this campus and don't know anyone, I had already decided to make a point to get involved in student groups and activities. Luckily, I ran into a friend I knew from Fargo on the Washington bridge! Neither of us knew the other was transferring here and neither of us know anyone. Plus, we're both diabetic! You gotta love Diabetic camaraderie. We talk about our glucose levels, check our sugar at the same time before we eat, and compare flavors of glucose tablets. Diabetics stick together. So we've been hanging out and "student group hunting" together. Last weekend, we decided to go bowling with the Student Commuter Group and then to a meeting with the Transfer Student Group. Bowling, we ate free giant pretzels and endured the aggressive friendliness of our Student Group teammates. At the other meeting, we played uncomfortable icebreaker games and designed t-shirts. Although we met some pretty nice people and did have a good time, we both considered the night unsuccessful. However, it was better than sitting at home watching reruns of the office on hulu... Needless to say, I have been searching for groups that are more my cup of tea. I recently began volunteering for our oncampus radio station, Radio K. They'll be giving me cds weekly to listen to, rate, write some comments and info about, and list my favorite songs for the DJs to use on air. Eventually, after getting the hang of how the studio works I'll hopefully start DJing too! I also joined the Students Against Hunger Group, the Film Club, Significant Heads Improv Troupe, and I may have, in my group hunting frenzy, joined the Coffee and Fiction Enthusiasts Club because they keep sending me emails..

Last week I tried to figure out the campus bus systems. They're extremely confusing to me because the "washington bridge circulator" takes one route (but I think i understand that one), "express" will take you somewhere I'm still not sure of, and the "campus connector" will take you from Willey Hall to Coffman, but you can't go from Coffman to Willey Hall without first going to St. Paul. I found that out the hard way. I was on the bus, trying to get back to West bank to get to one of my classes on time, when I looked out the window and saw familiar buildings turning into unfamiliar ones and all of a sudden I was headed to St. Paul. The bus driver was old with a faded navy newsboy type hat on, a gray mustache, glasses that rested on his cheeks when he smiled (and he was always smiling), and a maroon vest over a worn long-sleeved light blue dress shirt. He had an endearing smile and bright eyes faded with age. I went and asked him where this bus went. He had a thick accent, I thought it Ukrainian because it reminded me of the characters from "Everything is Illuminated," which takes place in Ukraine, but I could easily be wrong. Anyway, he was slightly hard of hearing and stared at me with a pleasantly furrowed brow and listened intently when I asked him for help back to West bank. He had a surprisingly quiet voice and a difficult accent, but loud hand motions so, although I couldn't understand much of what he was saying, he managed to point me in the right direction. The next day, I was standing, waiting for the bus in the freezing wind and snow. When it pulled up it was totally full. Some people got out at the stop, but it filled up again fast. After trying to push to the front of the crowd with no success, three other people and myself were left on the sidewalk to wait 15 minutes in the snow for the next bus. The bus driver was about to close the door when I glanced at him and saw his faded hat and old eyes. He was my (possibly) Ukrainian friend! I didn't think he'd recognize me, but he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. Then, he waved the people away that were trying to cram onto the bus when he wasn't looking and nodded his head for me to come in. I gratefully squeezed into the heated bus, much to the chagrin of the other three left to wait outside, and thanked my bus driver friend. He simply nodded, smiled, and drove away.

On to a New Adventure

Welcome to my brand-spankin new blog! My brother Quinn has not one, but two blogs and asked me a few weeks ago when I was going to start my own. I figured now is as good a time as any.

As you may know, (if you are not a stranger to me), I spent last semester studying Art in Cortona, Italy. I learned a lot about people, myself, my art, and the relationships between the three. It was the greatest adventure and the time of my life. However, I am now back to US dollars, gigantic cars and everything American. Thus begins my new adventure.

I have recently become a student at the U of M and a resident of Minneapolis, MN: The Midwest's "Big Apple." I arrived Thursday and have absurd amounts of free time since classes begin Tuesday. I don't know anyone on campus here, so I have been happily painting, writing, reading and watching crappy tv shows on Hulu (i.e. Gilmore Girls...). I'm taking babysteps in the process of "venturing in the city." Yesterday I wandered around campus and got lost for a little while. I don't know how many times I would be walking along, realize I was going the wrong way, and suddenly stop, make some motion to suggest I had "just remembered something" and turn back in the direction I came in order to avoid bystanders knowing I was lost (you know you've done that before).

Today I decided that since I found my way back to my dorm yesterday, I could take on the city Metro system. I even planned ahead and wrote down which routes to take and how to get to them. I shared the bus stop with two French-speaking people and a singing boy who had a cartoon monkey on every article of his clothing. I'm still learning how to people watch without staring too much. I successfully made it to Target in the Nicollet mall! On my way back, I wasted close to an hour waiting for the bus that the Metro Transit website told me to take. Then, after pushing through crowds of post-game Vikings fans (Go Vikes!) I put on a desperate face and befriended a bus driver who irritably told me which bus to take. And on top of that, I was dropped off at a stop much closer than the one I had planned on! And now my spirits are high, my stomach is full of Chicken Tortilla soup, and I'm looking forward to exploring campus tomorrow without getting lost!

That's all for now.