thoughts on being back from paradise
May. 3rd, 2004 10:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fatesfollyDamn, all it's done since we returned is RAIN. What a drag.
Especially returning to work today. It's the first Monday of the month so my commission meeting is tonight which means an extra long day at the office.
Going away for over a week makes coming home harder. I forgot about my grandmother's plants at her house and the back yard's grass needing cutting. I went over yesterday and seeing her full house makes me think of the work ahead of me cleaning everything out. Memorials keep pouring in and I am trying to keep up with thank you notes. And because her will was written in 1963, getting it probated is more of a task than I thought. The attorney and witnesses are all dead and now I'm in the process of finding someone who can verify her signature.
On top of that, I worked soooo hard to catch up at work before I left and now it seems I'm back being behind again. And I find I hate Sundays now because I dread going in to work on Mondays. I've always been a person to work for her days off than for a paycheck. Pay me in days off and I'd be a happy child. I always used to joke that the perfect job would have me going in at 11, and leaving at noon and still having an hour for lunch. I hate hating my job. I really need to work on finding joy in it again or move on.
And now I find I've been billed as "trying to figure it all out." Aren't we all doing that? Or am I plaintively ignorant that I may be the only one who has not "figured it all out"?
Speaking of which, I think I've lost what little bit of chutzpa I had. I'm a weenie.
An event in KW proved it.
For three years now, I've wanted to rent jet skis. I know the island by heart by land, but I've only seen it from the water a few times. I thought renting the jet skis would be fun and educational. So, on Tuesday when Lee returned, I went and got all the information. For 99 dollars, they have a tour that lasts 1.5-2 hours that goes all the way around the island. Sounded good. I convinced Lee to do it.
So we show up at the kiosk at the dock. I'm a little nervous. I've never ridden a jet ski, but I figure if I can ride a scooter all week long, I can handle a jet ski. We get into those damned life jackets and are assigned a jet ski each. I tell the guide I'm a little nervous. He tells me not to worry, that everyone finds their own speed that their comfortable with. Cool.
So we leave the dock, single file. The guide, Lee, me, and the family who is on the tour with us. The speedometer on my jet ski does not work so I slowly accelerate to a comfortable speed. I look up and Lee and the guide are about a mile ahead of me. The family on their two skis pass me. I start panicking... my speed is as fast as I feel comfortable with, but I'm being left. I continue on.
Lee comes back for me. He asks me if I'm having trouble. I reply that I've found my comfort speed and that I'm going as fast as I can. The guide comes back. He asks if there is a problem and I reply that no, I'm going as fast as I can. He tells me that I have to go at least 35 mph to get around the island in the 1.5-2 hours of the tour. He rides off. I try to go faster, but it scares me. I start crying.
The guide returns back to me again, telling me again to speed up. He tells me the ski is easier to handle at faster speeds. I tell him, rather harshly, that I cannot go any faster and that I will return to the dock if my speed is not satisfactory. That is not an option he tells me. He cannot let me go alone and he cannot leave the rest of the tour. He tells me to continue pushing my speed, but that I must go faster.
So I continue, crying, yelling that "I'm going as fast as I can" and really trying to go faster. The waves are about 2 feet and the other tour members are hot dogging in front of me, causing more swells. I switch to yelling "I can't do this" for a while... my voice is cracking... tears are still being blown out of the corners of my eyes. At the first stop, the little boy on the back of his mom's jet ski waves at me and smiles, trying to cheer me up. And it does. I smile and wave back and try to think more positively. I tried singing. That helped, but I still could go no faster. I was miserable. I was still scared. And I was realizing that my massage on Monday was being undone by the jolts and jerks of the wave action. I was pitiful!
The waves evened out later in the tour and reportedly, I went as fast as 60mph in the home stretch.
But I really felt foolish for being cowed like that. I'm a good swimmer and I'm not afraid of the sea. It's been a long time since I was faced with my limitations like that. I've been proud that I have no real phobias. But I guess I do.
Especially returning to work today. It's the first Monday of the month so my commission meeting is tonight which means an extra long day at the office.
Going away for over a week makes coming home harder. I forgot about my grandmother's plants at her house and the back yard's grass needing cutting. I went over yesterday and seeing her full house makes me think of the work ahead of me cleaning everything out. Memorials keep pouring in and I am trying to keep up with thank you notes. And because her will was written in 1963, getting it probated is more of a task than I thought. The attorney and witnesses are all dead and now I'm in the process of finding someone who can verify her signature.
On top of that, I worked soooo hard to catch up at work before I left and now it seems I'm back being behind again. And I find I hate Sundays now because I dread going in to work on Mondays. I've always been a person to work for her days off than for a paycheck. Pay me in days off and I'd be a happy child. I always used to joke that the perfect job would have me going in at 11, and leaving at noon and still having an hour for lunch. I hate hating my job. I really need to work on finding joy in it again or move on.
And now I find I've been billed as "trying to figure it all out." Aren't we all doing that? Or am I plaintively ignorant that I may be the only one who has not "figured it all out"?
Speaking of which, I think I've lost what little bit of chutzpa I had. I'm a weenie.
An event in KW proved it.
For three years now, I've wanted to rent jet skis. I know the island by heart by land, but I've only seen it from the water a few times. I thought renting the jet skis would be fun and educational. So, on Tuesday when Lee returned, I went and got all the information. For 99 dollars, they have a tour that lasts 1.5-2 hours that goes all the way around the island. Sounded good. I convinced Lee to do it.
So we show up at the kiosk at the dock. I'm a little nervous. I've never ridden a jet ski, but I figure if I can ride a scooter all week long, I can handle a jet ski. We get into those damned life jackets and are assigned a jet ski each. I tell the guide I'm a little nervous. He tells me not to worry, that everyone finds their own speed that their comfortable with. Cool.
So we leave the dock, single file. The guide, Lee, me, and the family who is on the tour with us. The speedometer on my jet ski does not work so I slowly accelerate to a comfortable speed. I look up and Lee and the guide are about a mile ahead of me. The family on their two skis pass me. I start panicking... my speed is as fast as I feel comfortable with, but I'm being left. I continue on.
Lee comes back for me. He asks me if I'm having trouble. I reply that I've found my comfort speed and that I'm going as fast as I can. The guide comes back. He asks if there is a problem and I reply that no, I'm going as fast as I can. He tells me that I have to go at least 35 mph to get around the island in the 1.5-2 hours of the tour. He rides off. I try to go faster, but it scares me. I start crying.
The guide returns back to me again, telling me again to speed up. He tells me the ski is easier to handle at faster speeds. I tell him, rather harshly, that I cannot go any faster and that I will return to the dock if my speed is not satisfactory. That is not an option he tells me. He cannot let me go alone and he cannot leave the rest of the tour. He tells me to continue pushing my speed, but that I must go faster.
So I continue, crying, yelling that "I'm going as fast as I can" and really trying to go faster. The waves are about 2 feet and the other tour members are hot dogging in front of me, causing more swells. I switch to yelling "I can't do this" for a while... my voice is cracking... tears are still being blown out of the corners of my eyes. At the first stop, the little boy on the back of his mom's jet ski waves at me and smiles, trying to cheer me up. And it does. I smile and wave back and try to think more positively. I tried singing. That helped, but I still could go no faster. I was miserable. I was still scared. And I was realizing that my massage on Monday was being undone by the jolts and jerks of the wave action. I was pitiful!
The waves evened out later in the tour and reportedly, I went as fast as 60mph in the home stretch.
But I really felt foolish for being cowed like that. I'm a good swimmer and I'm not afraid of the sea. It's been a long time since I was faced with my limitations like that. I've been proud that I have no real phobias. But I guess I do.
