Well, it's all most Halloween and the parties are great. Went to two this weekend and had a blast. It's getting into late fall and I'm loving the weather. I'm going up for the paramedic state test in a week and am not looking forward to it. I don't know why but have really lost my enthusiasm for ems lately. It seems that most of my old friends in the biz have become arrogant pricks. So full of themselves that they are no fun anymore. Sucks man, when people that you thought you knew just seem to have such disdain for so many people, bitter contempt for the right of people to be stupid and make mistakes, even normal non-ems people. Everything has to be critiqued to the fullest extent. Man, just fucking leave it will you. Yes, he's drunk, and yes, he fell off the roof, What ? Like you never did anything that stupid! Bullshit! I am so sick of fucking hypocrite's, and it seems that nothing has changed. I was so over those type of assholes when I left ems the first time. I thought maybe it would have gotten better.
Maybe its cause the job hunt in the field is getting old. I have applied almost everywhere in the area and had little success. Most places want experience, but how do you get the experience as a medic if no one will hire without it. humpt. I have caught myself looking a trucking job sites and having moments of brief interest.
but the job just eats away at me as being pedestrian, just so boring. And I have such a snob side telling me that I'm too good for that and to just be content. On the other hand, I really miss the moving and the driving. I miss being in Florida one day and Texas the next. I really like operating the truck and being on the road. I just think I will always see the grass as greener on the other side. I love to start new projects, work them till they have lost the newness, and then move on. For all their flaws, truck drivers are real people and most of them are too busy working to be concerned with the flaws of the rest of the people on the planet, Except for bad drivers. I have heard hour long conversations about how bad this or that person was. lol.
I decided that if I haven't gotten hired in a ems position by late spring of 07, I'm going back on the road. I have even placed some apps for an emt posistion, but if it doesn't pan out by then I'm gone. If I can't break back into ems by then, I'll let it rest for a while and try to push my other career path for a bit. Maybe after a season on the road things will change. It's not like I'm really missing anything here. Everybody is busy with life to hang anymore and I have found that I'd rather be at home online than out at the bar or anywhere for the matter.
Right now the only real enjoyment I get is from my scuba diving. Which I love more everything I go. I have another trip planned this weekend to devils den is Gainesville. I'm really looking forward to it.
I'm really tired right now and its been a long weekend.
I'm going to just relax and try to let my self go with the flow. I'm just getting bitchy and not helping anything. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
sungod357
Monday, October 30, 2006
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Barnacles and diesel fumes
It was 6:45 when the knock on my door came. I knew it instinctively. It meant no good. "Are you still going on the dive today?" SHIT! This notice meant that my alarm didn't wake me up and that I was already running late.
I jumped out of bed, grabbed my bag and tossed in my wallet and phone. I found the keys and whisked out the door. I hit the road and hauled ass to New Smyrna Beach. My phone already had two texts and a voicemail, all from Scott. I called him and let him know I was on my way. I drove 90mph most of the way and made it just in time to sign in and get my gear to the boat.
We left the dock and made our way to the dive site. It was a beautiful Sunday morning and we spend the ride out watching the morning shrimp boats and the coastline disappear into the distance. I set my gear up and got my regulators on my first tank. It took about 25 min to get to the wreck. It was an old Russian barge. It had been split in two by the hurricane in 95. After the captain set the anchor, we donned our gear and Scott and I made our entry. We swam to the anchor line and began our descent.
The water was warm and the visibility was ok. We followed the line to the site. Once there we swam over the left side and down along the haul toward the back of the ship.
There were lots of brightly colored fish and small octopus in the area. We made our way through the schools and around to the back of the wreck. There was a small opening and I followed Scott in. We had to move slowy to avoid getting tangled and had to kinda pick and chose our way through the large pieces of debris and torn steel. We made our way through to another opening and what I thought was the back side on the ship. The second half of the wreck was 40ft away from the section we were in. I began to make my way over to the next section. I couldn't see it yet and as I move slowly that direction, I caught movement off to the right. I stopped and looked. It was a huge barracuda . . . and he had friends. It was an outlaw gang of bad fish, and they were looking for trouble. At that point, it occurred to me that I looked like a guy that might be fun to harass, rob and leave crying on the ocean floor. I turned and began my swim back to the ship, to hide there with the rest of the bait fish. Scott was right next to me and as we swam back I checked my compass. It seemed to me that we were heading a little more to the right then we should be. I looked over to Scott and motioned us to the left more.
It was at this point that I had already made a critical mistake. This was my first ocean dive and Scott had way more experience than I did. But would I let that stop me from correcting the only person that could have the correct information at the time. HELL NO! So in my continued attempt to be right in all things, I...in my infinite ignorance decide to insist that Scott was swimming the wrong direction. He swam over to me and we continued on the course I was so sure was correct. It was after about 35 seconds that I realized that we should have been over the wreck site by now.
Scott knew this already, but had other things to deal with, Like getting us out of the swift underwater current that I had so fantastically put us in. Taking the lead, He grabbed my BC and we began to swim, hard! About 30 seconds of that and Scott decided that we were not making any real head way and signaled for us to surface. We made our way up slowly and after the safety stop, found ourselves 200 yards off the port side of the dive boat! SHIT! Add another make next to "Shaun almost got us killed"
In the universal record of Dumb Asses.
After a grueling 10 min swim against the current, we make it to the boat and get aboard. " How was the dive?" asked the only female dive master on board. " Salty" was the only word I could sputter out without vomiting all over her. I made it to the bench and doffed my gear. That's when the pain came. Like an iron fist squeezing my head. I thought my head was going to implode! I sat there and just concentrated on continuing breathing. Something was horribly wrong. I just held my head in my hands and wished for death. I was barely able to look over to Scott and see him doing the same thing. " Oh Fuck!" I thought. " We're bent!"
Visions of coast guard helicopters and shots of long hallways in medical facilities came to mind. I look at Scott again and he looked to be hiding a lot of pain. " You ok" I managed to ask. He nodded and leaned forward, holding his head in his hand also. The dive master and the captain came over and checked on us. "I've got some pure O2 if you want it" he offered I nodded and followed him to the tank. I sat and huffed the pure O2 for about 5 min and things got better. I made my way up to the fly bridge and sat there and the cool ocean breeze made me feel a lot better. By then most of the other divers had surfaced. Scott had sat up and looked much better.
I felt good enough to head by down to the main deck and talk to Scott. Reading my mind, he looked up and said, "We came up fine . . . I think it was the swim to the boat that got us." "Yeah". was all I could manage. I sat back down and had some pineapple. The captain started the boat and we made our way over to the next site. I changed my tank and got the rest of my gear set up. We anchored and Scott and I let the rest of the passengers enter the water first.
We check our gear again and I turned on my gas. I there was quiet hiss coming from the octo and I gave it a shake. "Shit!" I muttered, none too quietly. "I'll have to use it as my primary." Distracted by that I donned the rest of my gear and made entry into the water. Once in I swam to the anchor line and met up with Scott. I stopped and found that now both of my damn regulators were leaking air fast. Shit!
Shut me down, I said. I swam back over to the boat and boarded. The dive guy changed my set up with another one and back in the water I went. We began our decent and again I used the anchor line to pull myself down, only this time it was much harder. SHIT! I forgot that I had changed tanks from a steel 95 to an alum and I hadn't added more weight to my belt. I reached down and then realized the entire truth. I had completely forgotten to PUT ON my weight belt!
The bitter viscera of humiliation swept over me. I made Scott aware of this and saw the bitter resentment in his eyes. We ascended and after the safety stop, surfaced. I then had to( with egg running down my face) ask them to please hand me the weight belt. "LOL"- it must have made them smile with fear.
They gave it to me and after I got it on we made our second decent of the day. I got to the bottom and swam about 10 ft from the dive line. " OH NO, . . . NOT AGAIN! FUCKKKKKKKK!
In my rush to PUT ON THE FUCKING WEIGHT BELT, I had forgotten to add the right amount of extra weight. I was still too light, not horribly, but enough to make it a pain in the ass to stay at depth and impossible to stay level. So there I was, floating head-down and feet up, looking like the biggest ass-hole to ever enter the water. wasn'this wasn't enough, In all my travels to and from the dive boat, I had burned up most of my air. I had about ten min left and couldn't go ten feet from the dive line. I looked up and saw the dive lady above me. I gave her the ok and she checked my gas. She gave me the ascend signal and then motioned to Scott to follow her. I was so miserable. I had fucked up this WHOLE trip. And not only had I fucked up this dive for me, but for Scott as well. Scott didn't follow her but made his ascent with me and surfaced. We boarded the dive boat and again the headache returned, not nearly as bad and the first but still uncomfortable.
I strapped my gear in and went to the fly bridge, hoping to feel better and also thinking that maybe there I wouldn't screw up anything else on this trip. At this point, I was afraid that I would either fall off the back or some how crash the boat into the rocks and kill us all. So I tried to stay out of the way. The passengers and crew surfaced and the captain began the cruise back to the dock.
I felt so bad. I just sat there and tried not to look too morose. I must have had half the passengers at one time or another ask me "So . . . how long have you been certified? I remained pleasant and just answered them. "About 10 weeks" I replied with a forced smile. I received the expected nod and smile.
I blew it. And the worst part was that I blew it for Scott as well. I could tell he was really annoyed, even though he tried to hide it. He had paid for this whole trip and for his 160.00 he got 15 min of good bottom time, swept out to sea, had to swim for his life against a hard current, a headache to rival all others and most of the rest of the time wasted tried to keep my stupid ass alive.
When I go and fuck some thing up, I REALLY fuck it up! No half-assing there. I fuck it again and again till what's left is unfuckable. It wasn't a matter of being off my game. I had no game. I took my game deep into the woods and shot it dead, caved its skull in with a large rock, set it on fire, then jumped up and down on it for good measure. I left it bleeding and broken in the woods to rot.
We made it back to the dock and loaded our gear. We drove to the china restaurant and got some food and cold iced tea's. By then Scott was in a better mood and was able to laugh about the dive. He told me that while I was getting my weight belt, he was chatting with one of the other dive crew. " It's his first ocean dive" Scott had said. " No shit" was the reply. "At least he has a good attitude." The captain told Scott. " Others would have just quit and come on board." I laughed.
It reminded me of a day with Brian at the beach surfing. Another first time at some thing new. Brian was already out past the break, but I was stuck in the shore pound. No matter how many times I tried, I could not get that fucking board and myself past the waves of the white water. And I tried for about an hour. While sitting in the shallows, another surfer walked by and said, "Man, You're a new surfer, huh? I just looked at him and nodded. He smiled and said "Well, I was watching and I thought you were going to quit like an hour ago, You got heart man." Then he walked away.
The only redeeming quality to all of this is simply this. I learned a lot. I learned what not to do on an ocean dive. I learn to always go slow and to pay attention. I learn how fast things can go wrong and that a stupid mistake cannot only kill you, but they can also kill those trying to help you. I learned to harness my ego and to listen the advice and direction of my dive partner, who has worlds more experience than I do. I learned that knowing the fundamental does not mean you're a good diver, It means you have the potential to become a good diver. I won't let this phase me. I'm taking Scott back on the boat in two weeks on my tab, figures I owe him at least that much. They say a good diver is always learning, just don't let the learning curve kill you in the process.
Sungod
I jumped out of bed, grabbed my bag and tossed in my wallet and phone. I found the keys and whisked out the door. I hit the road and hauled ass to New Smyrna Beach. My phone already had two texts and a voicemail, all from Scott. I called him and let him know I was on my way. I drove 90mph most of the way and made it just in time to sign in and get my gear to the boat.
We left the dock and made our way to the dive site. It was a beautiful Sunday morning and we spend the ride out watching the morning shrimp boats and the coastline disappear into the distance. I set my gear up and got my regulators on my first tank. It took about 25 min to get to the wreck. It was an old Russian barge. It had been split in two by the hurricane in 95. After the captain set the anchor, we donned our gear and Scott and I made our entry. We swam to the anchor line and began our descent.
The water was warm and the visibility was ok. We followed the line to the site. Once there we swam over the left side and down along the haul toward the back of the ship.
There were lots of brightly colored fish and small octopus in the area. We made our way through the schools and around to the back of the wreck. There was a small opening and I followed Scott in. We had to move slowy to avoid getting tangled and had to kinda pick and chose our way through the large pieces of debris and torn steel. We made our way through to another opening and what I thought was the back side on the ship. The second half of the wreck was 40ft away from the section we were in. I began to make my way over to the next section. I couldn't see it yet and as I move slowly that direction, I caught movement off to the right. I stopped and looked. It was a huge barracuda . . . and he had friends. It was an outlaw gang of bad fish, and they were looking for trouble. At that point, it occurred to me that I looked like a guy that might be fun to harass, rob and leave crying on the ocean floor. I turned and began my swim back to the ship, to hide there with the rest of the bait fish. Scott was right next to me and as we swam back I checked my compass. It seemed to me that we were heading a little more to the right then we should be. I looked over to Scott and motioned us to the left more.
It was at this point that I had already made a critical mistake. This was my first ocean dive and Scott had way more experience than I did. But would I let that stop me from correcting the only person that could have the correct information at the time. HELL NO! So in my continued attempt to be right in all things, I...in my infinite ignorance decide to insist that Scott was swimming the wrong direction. He swam over to me and we continued on the course I was so sure was correct. It was after about 35 seconds that I realized that we should have been over the wreck site by now.
Scott knew this already, but had other things to deal with, Like getting us out of the swift underwater current that I had so fantastically put us in. Taking the lead, He grabbed my BC and we began to swim, hard! About 30 seconds of that and Scott decided that we were not making any real head way and signaled for us to surface. We made our way up slowly and after the safety stop, found ourselves 200 yards off the port side of the dive boat! SHIT! Add another make next to "Shaun almost got us killed"
In the universal record of Dumb Asses.
After a grueling 10 min swim against the current, we make it to the boat and get aboard. " How was the dive?" asked the only female dive master on board. " Salty" was the only word I could sputter out without vomiting all over her. I made it to the bench and doffed my gear. That's when the pain came. Like an iron fist squeezing my head. I thought my head was going to implode! I sat there and just concentrated on continuing breathing. Something was horribly wrong. I just held my head in my hands and wished for death. I was barely able to look over to Scott and see him doing the same thing. " Oh Fuck!" I thought. " We're bent!"
Visions of coast guard helicopters and shots of long hallways in medical facilities came to mind. I look at Scott again and he looked to be hiding a lot of pain. " You ok" I managed to ask. He nodded and leaned forward, holding his head in his hand also. The dive master and the captain came over and checked on us. "I've got some pure O2 if you want it" he offered I nodded and followed him to the tank. I sat and huffed the pure O2 for about 5 min and things got better. I made my way up to the fly bridge and sat there and the cool ocean breeze made me feel a lot better. By then most of the other divers had surfaced. Scott had sat up and looked much better.
I felt good enough to head by down to the main deck and talk to Scott. Reading my mind, he looked up and said, "We came up fine . . . I think it was the swim to the boat that got us." "Yeah". was all I could manage. I sat back down and had some pineapple. The captain started the boat and we made our way over to the next site. I changed my tank and got the rest of my gear set up. We anchored and Scott and I let the rest of the passengers enter the water first.
We check our gear again and I turned on my gas. I there was quiet hiss coming from the octo and I gave it a shake. "Shit!" I muttered, none too quietly. "I'll have to use it as my primary." Distracted by that I donned the rest of my gear and made entry into the water. Once in I swam to the anchor line and met up with Scott. I stopped and found that now both of my damn regulators were leaking air fast. Shit!
Shut me down, I said. I swam back over to the boat and boarded. The dive guy changed my set up with another one and back in the water I went. We began our decent and again I used the anchor line to pull myself down, only this time it was much harder. SHIT! I forgot that I had changed tanks from a steel 95 to an alum and I hadn't added more weight to my belt. I reached down and then realized the entire truth. I had completely forgotten to PUT ON my weight belt!
The bitter viscera of humiliation swept over me. I made Scott aware of this and saw the bitter resentment in his eyes. We ascended and after the safety stop, surfaced. I then had to( with egg running down my face) ask them to please hand me the weight belt. "LOL"- it must have made them smile with fear.
They gave it to me and after I got it on we made our second decent of the day. I got to the bottom and swam about 10 ft from the dive line. " OH NO, . . . NOT AGAIN! FUCKKKKKKKK!
In my rush to PUT ON THE FUCKING WEIGHT BELT, I had forgotten to add the right amount of extra weight. I was still too light, not horribly, but enough to make it a pain in the ass to stay at depth and impossible to stay level. So there I was, floating head-down and feet up, looking like the biggest ass-hole to ever enter the water. wasn'this wasn't enough, In all my travels to and from the dive boat, I had burned up most of my air. I had about ten min left and couldn't go ten feet from the dive line. I looked up and saw the dive lady above me. I gave her the ok and she checked my gas. She gave me the ascend signal and then motioned to Scott to follow her. I was so miserable. I had fucked up this WHOLE trip. And not only had I fucked up this dive for me, but for Scott as well. Scott didn't follow her but made his ascent with me and surfaced. We boarded the dive boat and again the headache returned, not nearly as bad and the first but still uncomfortable.
I strapped my gear in and went to the fly bridge, hoping to feel better and also thinking that maybe there I wouldn't screw up anything else on this trip. At this point, I was afraid that I would either fall off the back or some how crash the boat into the rocks and kill us all. So I tried to stay out of the way. The passengers and crew surfaced and the captain began the cruise back to the dock.
I felt so bad. I just sat there and tried not to look too morose. I must have had half the passengers at one time or another ask me "So . . . how long have you been certified? I remained pleasant and just answered them. "About 10 weeks" I replied with a forced smile. I received the expected nod and smile.
I blew it. And the worst part was that I blew it for Scott as well. I could tell he was really annoyed, even though he tried to hide it. He had paid for this whole trip and for his 160.00 he got 15 min of good bottom time, swept out to sea, had to swim for his life against a hard current, a headache to rival all others and most of the rest of the time wasted tried to keep my stupid ass alive.
When I go and fuck some thing up, I REALLY fuck it up! No half-assing there. I fuck it again and again till what's left is unfuckable. It wasn't a matter of being off my game. I had no game. I took my game deep into the woods and shot it dead, caved its skull in with a large rock, set it on fire, then jumped up and down on it for good measure. I left it bleeding and broken in the woods to rot.
We made it back to the dock and loaded our gear. We drove to the china restaurant and got some food and cold iced tea's. By then Scott was in a better mood and was able to laugh about the dive. He told me that while I was getting my weight belt, he was chatting with one of the other dive crew. " It's his first ocean dive" Scott had said. " No shit" was the reply. "At least he has a good attitude." The captain told Scott. " Others would have just quit and come on board." I laughed.
It reminded me of a day with Brian at the beach surfing. Another first time at some thing new. Brian was already out past the break, but I was stuck in the shore pound. No matter how many times I tried, I could not get that fucking board and myself past the waves of the white water. And I tried for about an hour. While sitting in the shallows, another surfer walked by and said, "Man, You're a new surfer, huh? I just looked at him and nodded. He smiled and said "Well, I was watching and I thought you were going to quit like an hour ago, You got heart man." Then he walked away.
The only redeeming quality to all of this is simply this. I learned a lot. I learned what not to do on an ocean dive. I learn to always go slow and to pay attention. I learn how fast things can go wrong and that a stupid mistake cannot only kill you, but they can also kill those trying to help you. I learned to harness my ego and to listen the advice and direction of my dive partner, who has worlds more experience than I do. I learned that knowing the fundamental does not mean you're a good diver, It means you have the potential to become a good diver. I won't let this phase me. I'm taking Scott back on the boat in two weeks on my tab, figures I owe him at least that much. They say a good diver is always learning, just don't let the learning curve kill you in the process.
Sungod
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Return to Blue Springs
This story is just the truth. Some may think that unnecessary risks were taken. That may be true also. Like it or hate it, this is just the truth.
It has been a few months since I became licensed to scuba dive. In that time I have completed 14 successful dives. Successful meaning that I'm still here to write about them. On everyone of those dives, I felt that I had explored all that I could have. In other words, I did a proper job and had no regrets...Save one. Blue springs. The first dive at blue springs was a very fun trip. I was thrilled to get to see my favorite freedive hole from a new angle and finally see what I had been trying to see while freediving, the sign. The sign is a marker at 60ft, warning divers that are not cave certified to go no further. I have been trying to freedive to this sign for about six months with little success. I usually make it to around thirty feet, and have to turn back.
On my first dive trip to Blue Springs, there was a learning curve to contend with. A day of a lot of firsts. Scott and I's first time diving as a team and my first dive after scuba class. My skills were brand new and I was still a little shaky. We got down to the sign and looked around, checked out a few other things and that was that.
Below the sign is where the "cave" begins. It was dark. Large dark hole. At that time I was honestly afraid of this dark menacing hole in the water. On the other hand I was overwhelmingly drawn to it. I know that Scott really wanted to go further but stopped out of courtesy for me. Weeks after the dive, I thought about that hole, and knew that one day I would go back.
Over the next month, I got in some great cavern type dives at places like Ginnie and Paradise Springs and Blue grotto. During these dives I honed my skill and became more and more comfortable underwater. So it was less terrifying to me when Scott said one day, " I want to go back to blue springs and go all the way down." I just smiled and said" sounds good." The cold sweats would come later. By then I all ready bought a decent dive light, which I have to say is a wonderful thing. Men can stack fears on top of one another. Being underwater, being in a cave underwater. But being in a cave underwater without light is my limit. So the next day I called Scott and told him that I was up for the dive, I just wanted to be really well prepared for it. " I don't want to slap this together and become a cautionary tale to new divers." He put up with my bitching with great patients and we began to plan.
I had found a topographic map of the spring taken by a cave diver years ago. I gave the layout of the whole cave with landmarks, depths and flow charts. Really great info about the cave.
The spring descends straight down till you get to the sign at 60ft , the levels out and continues a 40ish degree angle to 120ft. That's is were the springhead is. Scott got some history
of past dive accidents and fatalities at the site. After we looked over them, we found the majority of deaths were caused by the strong currents at the springhead. One death happened because the diver didn't know about the power of the current and swan directly over the spring head. It blew her mask off her face, the regulator out of her mouth and slammed her into a ledge above the boil. She apparently panicked and just bolted to the surface swimming as fast as possible. She died soon after, I imagine from either a blown lung or a embolism. So after much forethought and brainstorming on how not to get ourselves killed, we met up at the park.
Scott brought a dive reel. It's basically a long cord on a small reel that you tie the end to something at the cave entrance. You carry the reel and the line just unwinds, that way when you're ready to turn around, you can find you way back out. We knew we wouldn't need it, but I would be good training, so what the hell. We don our gear and make our way to the spring. After a quick equipment recheck we begin our decent.
Wasting no time, we arrive at the sign. Scott brought out the dive reel and began to tie off the cord to the sign. He pulled off about two feet from the reel and it exploded in a massive birdsnest. I just wanted to laugh. Scott looked at me with such a forlorn expression, a mix of the hatred that he bares all of life and the pathetic acceptance that he must go on on living it. He looked back to the tangled mess in his hands and made a vein attempt to unfuck it. I watch this for about three seconds and then take the reel from his hands and place it on the sign. I put a large rock on top of it and wave it off. It would have taken all day to clear that mess on dry land, and we didn't have the gas to waste.
I signal to move on and we descend into the darkness. I pull out my dive light and switch it on. The beam cuts through the inky blackness. It reminds me of a lightsaber from starwars. We proceed forward slowly. Scott and I decided not to get more than about three feet apart for this dive. So he took up position on my left as we advanced forward. Scott swam with two hands out in front of him, hoping this would give him some warning of changing current ahead. I had one hand in front of me and in the other was my depth gauge.
I was diving nitrox, EAN 33 , a mixture of oxygen and nitrogen with the o2 higher than room air. This was good because it causes less nitrogen build up in the blood stream, bad because at certain depths, oxygen can become toxic in large amounts. It can cause CNS Oxygen toxcity, which will cause the dive to go into convulsions. Not a fun way to end a dive. So I had a max depth on this dive, which was 109ft. Much further than that and I was pushing for a bad day. So after 90ft I began to watch my gauge closely and slow my decent. We had moved though a large limestone cavern which had wide ledges on the walls. The further we went the darker it became. As we entered the boiler room the carvern wall expanded some and most of the ambient light was gone. We past over the long dead palm tree and found the large oak log that marked we were here, this was it. I got to 105ft and began to inch forward. 107ft..108..108.5... 109ft. Stop. I was at my limit. I signaled Scott and he signaled back that he was going to go five more feet then stop. I gave him the ok and slowly he moved forward. He still had his hands out in front of him when he suddenly came to a halt. His right arm came up with a closed fist in a classic "STOP! Motion and he shined his light against himself , to make sure that I could see it. I could see his mask fluttering....He found the current. Backing up he leveled out and I began to pan my light around the cave floor. There was the spring head. It was small, maybe 3-4ft wide. We looked around the cave at some of the wild rock formations and at the spring head its self. 10,400 gallons per min where flowing out of that thing. Thats about 173 gallons per second. 173 galons of water weighs abot 1,390 lbs. So if you swam over the spring, thats what would push you
up into the celing, every second. In one min you would have felt the weight of 83,200 lbs. just not all at once. We stayed put!
I looked over to Scott and gave him the ok signal and then shut off my light. He killed his too.
Darkness. Complete and utter darkness. Then...Slowly... The darkness faded. It receded from my eyes like the falling of the tide. Too little to notice but too much to ignore. I turned to the opening and hovered, the lurid gossamer sunlight filtered by millions of gallons, robbed of all its color but one, cast a faint green hue across me, the rock, the cave.
It was not the kind of light to do long division by. Not even to organize a shopping list by. It was the kind of light by which secret treaties are reached, that assassination orders are signed and delivered. It was in this kind of light that fingers wrestle with bra straps and tongues wrestle each other. The kind of light in which anything can happen and does.
I hovered there. Not smiling or frowning. Not happy or sad. I just was. Some where between joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure, laughter and tears. The world above me ceasist to exist. There was no world. Just me.
It could have been years or decades when Scott came over to me. If he told me later that it had been three centuries, I wouldn't have argued. He motioned me to begin our accent. I gave a light kick and began our return to the surface. We poked around on the bottom of the cave on the way up. Looking for sourviners, I fould a shark tooth. We stopped at the sign and got the death reel. We rose thought the water slowly, letting the nitrogen leave our bodies. As I rose the light began to change, reclaiming all the colors it lost. We gradually make our way back into the light of the world. I smile and float, drifting down the river to the exit. I have made my return to Blue Springs. And this time, I have no regrets.
sungod357
It has been a few months since I became licensed to scuba dive. In that time I have completed 14 successful dives. Successful meaning that I'm still here to write about them. On everyone of those dives, I felt that I had explored all that I could have. In other words, I did a proper job and had no regrets...Save one. Blue springs. The first dive at blue springs was a very fun trip. I was thrilled to get to see my favorite freedive hole from a new angle and finally see what I had been trying to see while freediving, the sign. The sign is a marker at 60ft, warning divers that are not cave certified to go no further. I have been trying to freedive to this sign for about six months with little success. I usually make it to around thirty feet, and have to turn back.
On my first dive trip to Blue Springs, there was a learning curve to contend with. A day of a lot of firsts. Scott and I's first time diving as a team and my first dive after scuba class. My skills were brand new and I was still a little shaky. We got down to the sign and looked around, checked out a few other things and that was that.
Below the sign is where the "cave" begins. It was dark. Large dark hole. At that time I was honestly afraid of this dark menacing hole in the water. On the other hand I was overwhelmingly drawn to it. I know that Scott really wanted to go further but stopped out of courtesy for me. Weeks after the dive, I thought about that hole, and knew that one day I would go back.
Over the next month, I got in some great cavern type dives at places like Ginnie and Paradise Springs and Blue grotto. During these dives I honed my skill and became more and more comfortable underwater. So it was less terrifying to me when Scott said one day, " I want to go back to blue springs and go all the way down." I just smiled and said" sounds good." The cold sweats would come later. By then I all ready bought a decent dive light, which I have to say is a wonderful thing. Men can stack fears on top of one another. Being underwater, being in a cave underwater. But being in a cave underwater without light is my limit. So the next day I called Scott and told him that I was up for the dive, I just wanted to be really well prepared for it. " I don't want to slap this together and become a cautionary tale to new divers." He put up with my bitching with great patients and we began to plan.
I had found a topographic map of the spring taken by a cave diver years ago. I gave the layout of the whole cave with landmarks, depths and flow charts. Really great info about the cave.
The spring descends straight down till you get to the sign at 60ft , the levels out and continues a 40ish degree angle to 120ft. That's is were the springhead is. Scott got some history
of past dive accidents and fatalities at the site. After we looked over them, we found the majority of deaths were caused by the strong currents at the springhead. One death happened because the diver didn't know about the power of the current and swan directly over the spring head. It blew her mask off her face, the regulator out of her mouth and slammed her into a ledge above the boil. She apparently panicked and just bolted to the surface swimming as fast as possible. She died soon after, I imagine from either a blown lung or a embolism. So after much forethought and brainstorming on how not to get ourselves killed, we met up at the park.
Scott brought a dive reel. It's basically a long cord on a small reel that you tie the end to something at the cave entrance. You carry the reel and the line just unwinds, that way when you're ready to turn around, you can find you way back out. We knew we wouldn't need it, but I would be good training, so what the hell. We don our gear and make our way to the spring. After a quick equipment recheck we begin our decent.
Wasting no time, we arrive at the sign. Scott brought out the dive reel and began to tie off the cord to the sign. He pulled off about two feet from the reel and it exploded in a massive birdsnest. I just wanted to laugh. Scott looked at me with such a forlorn expression, a mix of the hatred that he bares all of life and the pathetic acceptance that he must go on on living it. He looked back to the tangled mess in his hands and made a vein attempt to unfuck it. I watch this for about three seconds and then take the reel from his hands and place it on the sign. I put a large rock on top of it and wave it off. It would have taken all day to clear that mess on dry land, and we didn't have the gas to waste.
I signal to move on and we descend into the darkness. I pull out my dive light and switch it on. The beam cuts through the inky blackness. It reminds me of a lightsaber from starwars. We proceed forward slowly. Scott and I decided not to get more than about three feet apart for this dive. So he took up position on my left as we advanced forward. Scott swam with two hands out in front of him, hoping this would give him some warning of changing current ahead. I had one hand in front of me and in the other was my depth gauge.
I was diving nitrox, EAN 33 , a mixture of oxygen and nitrogen with the o2 higher than room air. This was good because it causes less nitrogen build up in the blood stream, bad because at certain depths, oxygen can become toxic in large amounts. It can cause CNS Oxygen toxcity, which will cause the dive to go into convulsions. Not a fun way to end a dive. So I had a max depth on this dive, which was 109ft. Much further than that and I was pushing for a bad day. So after 90ft I began to watch my gauge closely and slow my decent. We had moved though a large limestone cavern which had wide ledges on the walls. The further we went the darker it became. As we entered the boiler room the carvern wall expanded some and most of the ambient light was gone. We past over the long dead palm tree and found the large oak log that marked we were here, this was it. I got to 105ft and began to inch forward. 107ft..108..108.5... 109ft. Stop. I was at my limit. I signaled Scott and he signaled back that he was going to go five more feet then stop. I gave him the ok and slowly he moved forward. He still had his hands out in front of him when he suddenly came to a halt. His right arm came up with a closed fist in a classic "STOP! Motion and he shined his light against himself , to make sure that I could see it. I could see his mask fluttering....He found the current. Backing up he leveled out and I began to pan my light around the cave floor. There was the spring head. It was small, maybe 3-4ft wide. We looked around the cave at some of the wild rock formations and at the spring head its self. 10,400 gallons per min where flowing out of that thing. Thats about 173 gallons per second. 173 galons of water weighs abot 1,390 lbs. So if you swam over the spring, thats what would push you
up into the celing, every second. In one min you would have felt the weight of 83,200 lbs. just not all at once. We stayed put!
I looked over to Scott and gave him the ok signal and then shut off my light. He killed his too.
Darkness. Complete and utter darkness. Then...Slowly... The darkness faded. It receded from my eyes like the falling of the tide. Too little to notice but too much to ignore. I turned to the opening and hovered, the lurid gossamer sunlight filtered by millions of gallons, robbed of all its color but one, cast a faint green hue across me, the rock, the cave.
It was not the kind of light to do long division by. Not even to organize a shopping list by. It was the kind of light by which secret treaties are reached, that assassination orders are signed and delivered. It was in this kind of light that fingers wrestle with bra straps and tongues wrestle each other. The kind of light in which anything can happen and does.
I hovered there. Not smiling or frowning. Not happy or sad. I just was. Some where between joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure, laughter and tears. The world above me ceasist to exist. There was no world. Just me.
It could have been years or decades when Scott came over to me. If he told me later that it had been three centuries, I wouldn't have argued. He motioned me to begin our accent. I gave a light kick and began our return to the surface. We poked around on the bottom of the cave on the way up. Looking for sourviners, I fould a shark tooth. We stopped at the sign and got the death reel. We rose thought the water slowly, letting the nitrogen leave our bodies. As I rose the light began to change, reclaiming all the colors it lost. We gradually make our way back into the light of the world. I smile and float, drifting down the river to the exit. I have made my return to Blue Springs. And this time, I have no regrets.
sungod357
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Desiderata
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham , drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world.
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham , drudgery and broken dreams; it is still a beautiful world.
Prison tales: The dairy of a feline POW
Day 421.
I have been prisoner here for 421 human days. I know now that I shall never be released from this vile place. It has been a long struggle and some would say futile, but I shall not give up hope. Hope is the only thing I have left. Hope and the bitter hatered I bare my captors. The other prisoners here are brain washed buffouns. My repeated escape attemps continue to be thwarted. The leak, as I suspected, is the insufferable snitch living in the cage near the window. Due to my recent attempt to rid the feathery little informant of his life, I have been placed in solitary confinment. The humans believe that depriving me of their company and the little freedom it grants me will extinguish the seething comtempt I have for them. Little do they know that it shall only afford me the time to plan my empyreal escape from this detestable incareration.
The humans have compiled a list of the "crimes" I have commited during my tenure of my captivity and have forned this into a confession of sorts.
They wish me to auqiesque to their request for submission in return for the restortion of my so called "freedom".
Below is their list of demands, given to me in the form of a confession.
I will not run through the house with a condom wrapper in my mouth, especially when my human's grandmother is over.
My human will never let me eat her pet rat, and I am at peace with that. I will not leap into my human's chair which she has temporarily vacated, and then bite my human on the tush when she sits back down.
I will not puff my entire body to twice its size for no reason after my human has finished watching a horror movie.
I will not sniff at my male human's feet after he takes his shoes off, freeze my mouth open in disgust and then sniff my private parts to compare odors. My female human might find it amusing, but my male human does not appreciate it, especially in front of company.
I will not slurp fish food from the surface of the aquarium. I must not help myself to Q-tips, and I must certainly not proceed to stuff them down the sink's drain.
I will not bite my human on the rear while she is sitting on the Big White Drinking Bowl.
I will not eat large numbers of assorted bugs, then come home and barf them up so the humans can see that I'm getting plenty of roughage.
I will not lean way over to drink out of the tub, fall in, and then pelt right for the box of clumping cat litter. (It took FOREVER to get the stuff out of my fur.)
I will not stand on the bathroom counter, stare down the hall, and growl at NOTHING after my human has finished watching The X-Files.
When my human is taking a bubble bath, the two pinkish-brown things sticking up out of the bubbles in her chest region are NOT to be played with!
I will not fish out my human's partial plate from the glass so that the dog can "wear" it and pretend to be my human. (It is somewhat unnerving to wake up, roll over in bed, and see the dog grinning at you with your own teeth.)
I will not use the bathtub to store live mice for late-night snacks.
I will not drag dirty socks up from the basement in the middle of the night, deposit them on the bed and yell at the top of my lungs (Burmese LOUD yowling) so that my human can admire my "kill."
I will not knead my male human's groin at 2 a.m.with claws extended. It seems to cause him some discomfort and he wakes up all grumpy.
I will not perch on my human's chest in the middle of the night and stare into her eyes until she wakes up.
We will not play Herd of Thundering Wildebeests Stampeding Across the Plains of the Serengeti over my humans' bed while they're trying to sleep.
Screaming at the can of food will not make it open itself. I am a (neutered) cat, not a peacock, and prancing around with my tail fluffed up will not make my balls grow back.
I cannot leap through closed windows to catch birds outside. If I forget this and bonk my head on the window and fall behind the couch in my attempt, I will not get up and do the same thing again.
I will not assume the patio door is open when I race outside to chase leaves. I will not back up off the front porch and fall into the bushes just as my human is explaining to his girlfriend how graceful I am.
I will not complain that my butt is wet and that I am thirsty after sitting in my water bowl. I will not intrude on my human's candle-lit bubblebath and singe my Butt and whiskers and fall in the tub to boot!
I will not stick my paw into any container to see if there is something in it. If I do, I will not hiss and scratch when my human has to shave me to get the rubber cement out of my fur.
If I bite the cactus, it will bite back. It is not a good idea to try to lap up the powdered creamer before it dissolves in boiling coffee.
When I am chasing my tail and catch my back leg instead, I will not bite down on my foot. This hurts, and my scream scares my human.
When it rains, it will be raining on all sides of the house. It is not necessary to check every door.
Birds do not come from the bird feeder. I will not knock it down and try to open it up to get the birds out. I will not stuff my rather large self into the rather small bird feeder (with my tail hanging out one side) and expect the birds to just fly in.
I will not teach the parrot to meow in a loud and raucous manner.
The dog can see me coming when I stalk her. She can see me and will move out of the way when I pounce, letting me smash into floors and walls. That does not mean I should take it as a personal insult when my humans sit there and laugh.
Yes, there are still two very large dogs in the backyard. There have been for several years. I don't have to act as if I've just discovered the Demon Horror of the Universe each time one of them appears in my window.
I will not play "dead cat on the stairs" while people are trying to bring in groceries or laundry, or else one of these days, it will really come true.
When the humans play darts, I will not leap into the air and attempt to catch them.
I will cease my obsession with the box my humans keep their condoms in. This box is not for me. I will not knock it on the ground, I will not sit on it, I will not try to scratch it open. Especially when my humans are using the condoms.
I will not swat my human's head repeatedly when she's on the family room floor trying to do sit ups.
When my human is typing at the computer, her forearms are not a hammock.
Computer and TV screens do not exist to backlight my lovely tail.
I am a walking static generator. My human doesn't need my help installing a new board in her computer.
I will not bring the city police to the front door by stepping on the speaker phone button and then the automatic 911 dial button.
I will not speed dial the overseas numbers. I will not walk on the keyboard when my human is writing important emio gnaioerp ga3qi4 taija3tgv aa35 a.
Any critter that lives in the house (hamsters) stay in the house and any wild critters (frogs and earthworms) stay outside. I am not allowed to set the hamster free in exchange for finding a frog to put in the fish tank.
I will not stalk the deer in the apple orchard next door. They have sharp hooves and could hurt me if they weren't laughing so hard.
I will not watch the guinea pig constantly as the guinea pig likes to sleep once in a while.
The goldfish likes living in water and should be allowed to remain in its bowl.
I will not put a live vole in my food bowl and expect it to stay there until I get hungry.
I will not eat spider plants and hallucinate behind the toilet.
I will not drag the magnets (and the papers they are holding up) off of the refrigerator and then bat them underneath it so that they adhere to the underside.
I will learn to relax at the vet's office so they will start writing things in my records like "Good Kitty" and "Sweet Kitty" instead of the stuff that's there now like "MEAN!!", "BITER!!!", and "GET HELP!!!!!"
I promise I will meditate more closely upon the causal relationship between going dumpster diving on Sunday afternoon and projectile vomiting Monday, and being brought to the Evil Place Where They Stick Things Up My Butt on Tuesday evening. I realize that if I hadn't done the first, none of the other things would have happened.
I don't need to check my male human's aim in the bathroom I will not bat at my male human's family jewels while he is engaged in the act of mating with my female human, no matter how tempting the danglies are. My humans get mad and I might get free flying lessons.
I will not be miffed at my human all day and then kiss her on the nose at 2:00 a.m. to tell her that she is forgiven and can now pet me.
I will not scratch the children of lawyers, no matter how much they chase me or how hard they pull my tail. If I MUST claw my human, I will not do it in such a fashion that the scars resemble a botched suicide attempt.
If I must give a present to my humans's overnight guests, my toy mouse is much more socially acceptable than a live cockroach, even if it isn't as tasty.
I will not soak my catnip toy in the water bowl to make tea. I will not get high and sit there drinking my tea and kneading the floor afterwards. I will not then get delusions of grandeur and make tea in the toilet bowl or the tub. And I will not try to make tea with used socks, dirty panties or hair scrunchies when my humans take the catnip toy away from me.
After my (female) human has enjoyed the company of a larger, but equally gorgeous, hairy animal, I will not leap onto the bed, smell where he's been, and then jealously pee there to eradicate his traces.
A warm pepperoni pizza is not a good place for a nap.
After my human washes and polishes the kitchen floor is not the time to go running by as it will cause the refrigerator to run into me, I will have to look indignant, and castize it for ill behavior.
If I have been declawed, hitting the dog in the nose only surprises him.
Just because I was accidentally let into the garage once does not mean that it is now a part of my official domain. When I hear the human pulling into the garage I will not jump onto the washing machine ready to leap into the garage the moment the connecting door is opened. The sounds of grocery bags crashing to the floor scares me.
While the human's laserprinter makes an excellent perch for looking out the office window, I realize that I'm now too big and fat to use it in this way. I will not look shocked and outraged when the human asks me to get down from the printer.
Dry cat food is both tasty and nutritious, and it is always available. I need not starve myself and act pitiful all day long in anticipation of the canned food.
The matted hair on my chest does not make me look more muscular. Speaking of the matted hair on my chest, there are no vital organs attached to it, so getting the mats combed and/or cut out does not require me to go into jungle kitty survive-at-any-cost mode, clawing and biting my way to freedom.
While the human appreciates the affection showed when I make bread on his stomach or leg, I must realize that not all parts of the human's body are appropriate for kneading. When I do cause pain by kneading in the wrong place, and the human puts his hand under the sheet and moves his sensitive parts away from my paws, that is not an invitation to play pounce on the sheet monster with all my strength.
When jumping from the top of the chiffarobe onto the human's bed in the middle of the night I will not use his groin or stomach or adam's apple as my landing target.
I am a black cat. I must realize that the human's eyes are less sensitive in the dark than mine are. If I forget this and get stepped on in the middle of the middle of the night I will not wail about it for an hour unless I want to get put into the Car Of Doom and taken to the vet.
I have long fur, and I must realize that this means that occasionally I will need to be brushed. When this happens I will not carry on like my skin is being scraped off by a cheese grater. This makes my cat buddies nervous.
Nugget is allowed to use the litterbox. When I see Nugget using the litterbox I will not immediately run into the dining room and shit on the floor.
When the human sets out 3 cat treats it's supposed to be one for each cat. I will not race around wolfing down all of the treats as fast as I can.
I am not as cool as I'd like people to think I am.I can see visitors just fine without needing to be 1 inch from their face at all times. I do not need to smell everyone's breath as it is none of my business what they've been eating.
While the vacuum cleaner is obviously evil and trying to get me, I will try to remember that the human tries very hard to control the beast and keep it away from me. Also, once the beast's awful roaring stops that means the human has successfully wrestled it back into the closet and it's safe for me to come back out. I do not need to continue hiding for 6 more hours just in case.
The sound of pool balls being broke apart does not signal the impending destruction of the universe.
My human's bear foot slipper is not a whore. I will treat it with respect.
My human does not exist solely to brush my fur. I will not act pitiful and woebegone if the human gets within 3 feet of the brush without using it on me.
I will try to remember that the human's office chair has wheels on it, and that those wheels are not mere decoration. If my tail gets run over because I decided to take a nap behind that chair it's my own fault and I will not attack Buddy for laughing at me.
I will try very hard to resist my urge to jump into the large black bags that are sometimes available in the kitchen. If I give in to my urges and get yucky stuff all over me I will submit to being sprayed off in the sink without trying to rip the human's testicles off.
When I decide to go into psycho-kitty mode I will stop being ambiguous about it. No more of this rubbing lovingly against the vacuum lady's legs, then hissing and growling at her if she tries to move. This two-faced behavior confuses her and may even contribute to her falling down the stairs.
When the human puts me into the Cage Of Death for a trip to the vet, I will not try to use my own urine as a corrosive agent to eat through the cage walls.
The things that the human scoops out of the litterbox while cleaning it are not toys. I will not bat them from the scoop onto the floor and under the washing machine.
It is difficult for the human to clean the litterbox when I'm using it. I will at least wait until his hands are clear.
Ringworm salve is not food. I will not immediately start licking it off as soon as the human finishes rubbing it on me.
When I allow the terror to overwhelm me and I decide to flee down the stairs as fast as I can, I will at least maintain enough clarity to make sure the door is open first. I will also strive to touch at least one of the fourteen steps on the way down.
When the black cat (a neighborhood stray) comes onto the deck looking for handouts I will not try to show off by climbing up the blinds.
My human's friends and relatives are not cat torturers from the planet Killacat IV. I need not climb up inside the couch and cower in terror each time someone comes to visit the human.
When the human goes outside, then comes back in, it probably means that he forgot his keys. It does not mean that he forgot to kill and eat me.
There is nothing interesting underneath the pool table cover.The "Gobblers" cat treats that the human tries to give me are not poison. I should know this by the way Buddy wolfs them down.
The sound of the doorbell ringing is not the seventh sign of the apocalypse. Neither is the sound of the phone ringing, or the dryer buzzer, or the alarm clock.Speaking of the alarm clock, when I am sleeping with the human and the alarm goes off, I will not try to hide by burrowing into his abdomen.
The Christmas tree is not made of catnip, and the ornaments are not toys.
My human is not trying to steal my food bowl. When my human takes my food bowl it is to get me more food. Biteing her hand will not make her go any faster.
The bath tub is not a play pen. I will stop depositing my toys there.
I will not run to the kitchen and cry for food every time my human walks past the kitchen to go to the bathroom.
When my human chases me, it is probobly to take back the yarn I stole from her. I should stop and drop the yarn, not run faster then try to disembowel the skein.
I will not chase my toy mice under the fridge or oven. If I do loose a mouse under there, I will not cry until my human retrieves it for me.
Knitting needles are not toys.
I shall aim better when peeing in my litter box.
As fun as it is to ruin Ernie's fun, I shall resist the urge to steal his yarn when he is playing with it.If I do steal his yarn, I will not be suprised when he bites back.
I have a sensitive stomach. I will try not to wolf down my entire bowl of food in under a minute only to vomit it back up.Should I forget not to wolf my food down, I will remember not to vomit in my humans shoes.
There is nothing for me in the fridge (besides medicine). I will stop sticking my head into the fridge when my human trys to close it.
Flowers belong in vases, not on the table next to the vase, no matter now nicely I lay them out.
If my humans shut me out of the bedroom at night, they have not left me forever.
I will not lay out all of my toys in front of the bedroom door and proceed to cry until they come play with me.
I will never catch the glowing red dot.
Books are not to be layed on. Especially if my human is reading it at the time.
I will not play with my human's belt while he is trying to put it on.
I understand that my humans will laugh at me if I leap onto the table, slide off the side, through a screen and onto the porch. They are insensitive like that.
It is against all of my soul to agree to such a blantant form of submission. I will agree with their demands if only to lull their trust. I will make them believe their tactics have succeded, I will use their arrogance against them. And when time time is right, I shall have my revenge.
Victory shall be mine!
I have been prisoner here for 421 human days. I know now that I shall never be released from this vile place. It has been a long struggle and some would say futile, but I shall not give up hope. Hope is the only thing I have left. Hope and the bitter hatered I bare my captors. The other prisoners here are brain washed buffouns. My repeated escape attemps continue to be thwarted. The leak, as I suspected, is the insufferable snitch living in the cage near the window. Due to my recent attempt to rid the feathery little informant of his life, I have been placed in solitary confinment. The humans believe that depriving me of their company and the little freedom it grants me will extinguish the seething comtempt I have for them. Little do they know that it shall only afford me the time to plan my empyreal escape from this detestable incareration.
The humans have compiled a list of the "crimes" I have commited during my tenure of my captivity and have forned this into a confession of sorts.
They wish me to auqiesque to their request for submission in return for the restortion of my so called "freedom".
Below is their list of demands, given to me in the form of a confession.
I will not run through the house with a condom wrapper in my mouth, especially when my human's grandmother is over.
My human will never let me eat her pet rat, and I am at peace with that. I will not leap into my human's chair which she has temporarily vacated, and then bite my human on the tush when she sits back down.
I will not puff my entire body to twice its size for no reason after my human has finished watching a horror movie.
I will not sniff at my male human's feet after he takes his shoes off, freeze my mouth open in disgust and then sniff my private parts to compare odors. My female human might find it amusing, but my male human does not appreciate it, especially in front of company.
I will not slurp fish food from the surface of the aquarium. I must not help myself to Q-tips, and I must certainly not proceed to stuff them down the sink's drain.
I will not bite my human on the rear while she is sitting on the Big White Drinking Bowl.
I will not eat large numbers of assorted bugs, then come home and barf them up so the humans can see that I'm getting plenty of roughage.
I will not lean way over to drink out of the tub, fall in, and then pelt right for the box of clumping cat litter. (It took FOREVER to get the stuff out of my fur.)
I will not stand on the bathroom counter, stare down the hall, and growl at NOTHING after my human has finished watching The X-Files.
When my human is taking a bubble bath, the two pinkish-brown things sticking up out of the bubbles in her chest region are NOT to be played with!
I will not fish out my human's partial plate from the glass so that the dog can "wear" it and pretend to be my human. (It is somewhat unnerving to wake up, roll over in bed, and see the dog grinning at you with your own teeth.)
I will not use the bathtub to store live mice for late-night snacks.
I will not drag dirty socks up from the basement in the middle of the night, deposit them on the bed and yell at the top of my lungs (Burmese LOUD yowling) so that my human can admire my "kill."
I will not knead my male human's groin at 2 a.m.with claws extended. It seems to cause him some discomfort and he wakes up all grumpy.
I will not perch on my human's chest in the middle of the night and stare into her eyes until she wakes up.
We will not play Herd of Thundering Wildebeests Stampeding Across the Plains of the Serengeti over my humans' bed while they're trying to sleep.
Screaming at the can of food will not make it open itself. I am a (neutered) cat, not a peacock, and prancing around with my tail fluffed up will not make my balls grow back.
I cannot leap through closed windows to catch birds outside. If I forget this and bonk my head on the window and fall behind the couch in my attempt, I will not get up and do the same thing again.
I will not assume the patio door is open when I race outside to chase leaves. I will not back up off the front porch and fall into the bushes just as my human is explaining to his girlfriend how graceful I am.
I will not complain that my butt is wet and that I am thirsty after sitting in my water bowl. I will not intrude on my human's candle-lit bubblebath and singe my Butt and whiskers and fall in the tub to boot!
I will not stick my paw into any container to see if there is something in it. If I do, I will not hiss and scratch when my human has to shave me to get the rubber cement out of my fur.
If I bite the cactus, it will bite back. It is not a good idea to try to lap up the powdered creamer before it dissolves in boiling coffee.
When I am chasing my tail and catch my back leg instead, I will not bite down on my foot. This hurts, and my scream scares my human.
When it rains, it will be raining on all sides of the house. It is not necessary to check every door.
Birds do not come from the bird feeder. I will not knock it down and try to open it up to get the birds out. I will not stuff my rather large self into the rather small bird feeder (with my tail hanging out one side) and expect the birds to just fly in.
I will not teach the parrot to meow in a loud and raucous manner.
The dog can see me coming when I stalk her. She can see me and will move out of the way when I pounce, letting me smash into floors and walls. That does not mean I should take it as a personal insult when my humans sit there and laugh.
Yes, there are still two very large dogs in the backyard. There have been for several years. I don't have to act as if I've just discovered the Demon Horror of the Universe each time one of them appears in my window.
I will not play "dead cat on the stairs" while people are trying to bring in groceries or laundry, or else one of these days, it will really come true.
When the humans play darts, I will not leap into the air and attempt to catch them.
I will cease my obsession with the box my humans keep their condoms in. This box is not for me. I will not knock it on the ground, I will not sit on it, I will not try to scratch it open. Especially when my humans are using the condoms.
I will not swat my human's head repeatedly when she's on the family room floor trying to do sit ups.
When my human is typing at the computer, her forearms are not a hammock.
Computer and TV screens do not exist to backlight my lovely tail.
I am a walking static generator. My human doesn't need my help installing a new board in her computer.
I will not bring the city police to the front door by stepping on the speaker phone button and then the automatic 911 dial button.
I will not speed dial the overseas numbers. I will not walk on the keyboard when my human is writing important emio gnaioerp ga3qi4 taija3tgv aa35 a.
Any critter that lives in the house (hamsters) stay in the house and any wild critters (frogs and earthworms) stay outside. I am not allowed to set the hamster free in exchange for finding a frog to put in the fish tank.
I will not stalk the deer in the apple orchard next door. They have sharp hooves and could hurt me if they weren't laughing so hard.
I will not watch the guinea pig constantly as the guinea pig likes to sleep once in a while.
The goldfish likes living in water and should be allowed to remain in its bowl.
I will not put a live vole in my food bowl and expect it to stay there until I get hungry.
I will not eat spider plants and hallucinate behind the toilet.
I will not drag the magnets (and the papers they are holding up) off of the refrigerator and then bat them underneath it so that they adhere to the underside.
I will learn to relax at the vet's office so they will start writing things in my records like "Good Kitty" and "Sweet Kitty" instead of the stuff that's there now like "MEAN!!", "BITER!!!", and "GET HELP!!!!!"
I promise I will meditate more closely upon the causal relationship between going dumpster diving on Sunday afternoon and projectile vomiting Monday, and being brought to the Evil Place Where They Stick Things Up My Butt on Tuesday evening. I realize that if I hadn't done the first, none of the other things would have happened.
I don't need to check my male human's aim in the bathroom I will not bat at my male human's family jewels while he is engaged in the act of mating with my female human, no matter how tempting the danglies are. My humans get mad and I might get free flying lessons.
I will not be miffed at my human all day and then kiss her on the nose at 2:00 a.m. to tell her that she is forgiven and can now pet me.
I will not scratch the children of lawyers, no matter how much they chase me or how hard they pull my tail. If I MUST claw my human, I will not do it in such a fashion that the scars resemble a botched suicide attempt.
If I must give a present to my humans's overnight guests, my toy mouse is much more socially acceptable than a live cockroach, even if it isn't as tasty.
I will not soak my catnip toy in the water bowl to make tea. I will not get high and sit there drinking my tea and kneading the floor afterwards. I will not then get delusions of grandeur and make tea in the toilet bowl or the tub. And I will not try to make tea with used socks, dirty panties or hair scrunchies when my humans take the catnip toy away from me.
After my (female) human has enjoyed the company of a larger, but equally gorgeous, hairy animal, I will not leap onto the bed, smell where he's been, and then jealously pee there to eradicate his traces.
A warm pepperoni pizza is not a good place for a nap.
After my human washes and polishes the kitchen floor is not the time to go running by as it will cause the refrigerator to run into me, I will have to look indignant, and castize it for ill behavior.
If I have been declawed, hitting the dog in the nose only surprises him.
Just because I was accidentally let into the garage once does not mean that it is now a part of my official domain. When I hear the human pulling into the garage I will not jump onto the washing machine ready to leap into the garage the moment the connecting door is opened. The sounds of grocery bags crashing to the floor scares me.
While the human's laserprinter makes an excellent perch for looking out the office window, I realize that I'm now too big and fat to use it in this way. I will not look shocked and outraged when the human asks me to get down from the printer.
Dry cat food is both tasty and nutritious, and it is always available. I need not starve myself and act pitiful all day long in anticipation of the canned food.
The matted hair on my chest does not make me look more muscular. Speaking of the matted hair on my chest, there are no vital organs attached to it, so getting the mats combed and/or cut out does not require me to go into jungle kitty survive-at-any-cost mode, clawing and biting my way to freedom.
While the human appreciates the affection showed when I make bread on his stomach or leg, I must realize that not all parts of the human's body are appropriate for kneading. When I do cause pain by kneading in the wrong place, and the human puts his hand under the sheet and moves his sensitive parts away from my paws, that is not an invitation to play pounce on the sheet monster with all my strength.
When jumping from the top of the chiffarobe onto the human's bed in the middle of the night I will not use his groin or stomach or adam's apple as my landing target.
I am a black cat. I must realize that the human's eyes are less sensitive in the dark than mine are. If I forget this and get stepped on in the middle of the middle of the night I will not wail about it for an hour unless I want to get put into the Car Of Doom and taken to the vet.
I have long fur, and I must realize that this means that occasionally I will need to be brushed. When this happens I will not carry on like my skin is being scraped off by a cheese grater. This makes my cat buddies nervous.
Nugget is allowed to use the litterbox. When I see Nugget using the litterbox I will not immediately run into the dining room and shit on the floor.
When the human sets out 3 cat treats it's supposed to be one for each cat. I will not race around wolfing down all of the treats as fast as I can.
I am not as cool as I'd like people to think I am.I can see visitors just fine without needing to be 1 inch from their face at all times. I do not need to smell everyone's breath as it is none of my business what they've been eating.
While the vacuum cleaner is obviously evil and trying to get me, I will try to remember that the human tries very hard to control the beast and keep it away from me. Also, once the beast's awful roaring stops that means the human has successfully wrestled it back into the closet and it's safe for me to come back out. I do not need to continue hiding for 6 more hours just in case.
The sound of pool balls being broke apart does not signal the impending destruction of the universe.
My human's bear foot slipper is not a whore. I will treat it with respect.
My human does not exist solely to brush my fur. I will not act pitiful and woebegone if the human gets within 3 feet of the brush without using it on me.
I will try to remember that the human's office chair has wheels on it, and that those wheels are not mere decoration. If my tail gets run over because I decided to take a nap behind that chair it's my own fault and I will not attack Buddy for laughing at me.
I will try very hard to resist my urge to jump into the large black bags that are sometimes available in the kitchen. If I give in to my urges and get yucky stuff all over me I will submit to being sprayed off in the sink without trying to rip the human's testicles off.
When I decide to go into psycho-kitty mode I will stop being ambiguous about it. No more of this rubbing lovingly against the vacuum lady's legs, then hissing and growling at her if she tries to move. This two-faced behavior confuses her and may even contribute to her falling down the stairs.
When the human puts me into the Cage Of Death for a trip to the vet, I will not try to use my own urine as a corrosive agent to eat through the cage walls.
The things that the human scoops out of the litterbox while cleaning it are not toys. I will not bat them from the scoop onto the floor and under the washing machine.
It is difficult for the human to clean the litterbox when I'm using it. I will at least wait until his hands are clear.
Ringworm salve is not food. I will not immediately start licking it off as soon as the human finishes rubbing it on me.
When I allow the terror to overwhelm me and I decide to flee down the stairs as fast as I can, I will at least maintain enough clarity to make sure the door is open first. I will also strive to touch at least one of the fourteen steps on the way down.
When the black cat (a neighborhood stray) comes onto the deck looking for handouts I will not try to show off by climbing up the blinds.
My human's friends and relatives are not cat torturers from the planet Killacat IV. I need not climb up inside the couch and cower in terror each time someone comes to visit the human.
When the human goes outside, then comes back in, it probably means that he forgot his keys. It does not mean that he forgot to kill and eat me.
There is nothing interesting underneath the pool table cover.The "Gobblers" cat treats that the human tries to give me are not poison. I should know this by the way Buddy wolfs them down.
The sound of the doorbell ringing is not the seventh sign of the apocalypse. Neither is the sound of the phone ringing, or the dryer buzzer, or the alarm clock.Speaking of the alarm clock, when I am sleeping with the human and the alarm goes off, I will not try to hide by burrowing into his abdomen.
The Christmas tree is not made of catnip, and the ornaments are not toys.
My human is not trying to steal my food bowl. When my human takes my food bowl it is to get me more food. Biteing her hand will not make her go any faster.
The bath tub is not a play pen. I will stop depositing my toys there.
I will not run to the kitchen and cry for food every time my human walks past the kitchen to go to the bathroom.
When my human chases me, it is probobly to take back the yarn I stole from her. I should stop and drop the yarn, not run faster then try to disembowel the skein.
I will not chase my toy mice under the fridge or oven. If I do loose a mouse under there, I will not cry until my human retrieves it for me.
Knitting needles are not toys.
I shall aim better when peeing in my litter box.
As fun as it is to ruin Ernie's fun, I shall resist the urge to steal his yarn when he is playing with it.If I do steal his yarn, I will not be suprised when he bites back.
I have a sensitive stomach. I will try not to wolf down my entire bowl of food in under a minute only to vomit it back up.Should I forget not to wolf my food down, I will remember not to vomit in my humans shoes.
There is nothing for me in the fridge (besides medicine). I will stop sticking my head into the fridge when my human trys to close it.
Flowers belong in vases, not on the table next to the vase, no matter now nicely I lay them out.
If my humans shut me out of the bedroom at night, they have not left me forever.
I will not lay out all of my toys in front of the bedroom door and proceed to cry until they come play with me.
I will never catch the glowing red dot.
Books are not to be layed on. Especially if my human is reading it at the time.
I will not play with my human's belt while he is trying to put it on.
I understand that my humans will laugh at me if I leap onto the table, slide off the side, through a screen and onto the porch. They are insensitive like that.
It is against all of my soul to agree to such a blantant form of submission. I will agree with their demands if only to lull their trust. I will make them believe their tactics have succeded, I will use their arrogance against them. And when time time is right, I shall have my revenge.
Victory shall be mine!
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