RE: Shanna

I am a writer. I am?

I suppose we all have the capacity to be a writer. Don’t we? After all, it’s not like singing, where I often have dreams of auditioning for American Idol and making it to Hollywood (!...?) to my shock, and then horror. That is because I am of the distinct impression that I’m not a very good singer. Even when I belt out Toni Braxton in my shower (you know, where the acoustics are the most flattering) and as much as I try and stretch my voice, my own vanity has to admit that it doesn’t sound fantastic. On a good note though (pun intended), I wouldn’t categorize my singing disability as tone-deafness. For instance, I have the capability to blend my voice very nicely with a chorus, or with the radio in my car. So, I do have that going for my singing aspirations. But my point is this. You can’t fake a good singing voice. That is, unless you are a commercially promoted, bubble gum pop tween with a team of synthesizers on hand to fake out your undiscerning audience.

Writing, however, is another story (there again with the puns.) Sure, there are those people who simply have a talent for writing. You have probably paid or thought about paying them at one point to produce a paper for you. But in my opinion, even the layman could slop something on a paper and eventually form a well written essay/story/book/blog given enough rounds of editing. Now, if grammar wasn’t a strong suit, I could see how this may be painstaking and time consuming, but still achievable for even the most helpless among us.

So, the real question is, where do you draw the line? When might you consider yourself a writer? Because I think I have established that we are all writers if we so choose to be one. Perhaps will and ability are intermingled here. In my case, I have always had a dread for writing, so I simply didn’t have the will. I had a problem with focusing my random thoughts into one congruent paper/story. Obviously, I still have that same problem. But somewhere along the way, I realized that I had the ability to rein myself in, and was actually able produce good writing. That, paired with my knack for grammar and love for words, translated into my writing for pleasure. I guess that leaves me now with the will and ability to write. So, I’ll bite the bullet...

I am a writer.

The Dunker

I made my way to the back of a long, gray metal tube and meekly settled into one of the back window seats. Although I was alongside eight of my peers, I felt completely alone. We sat perched about ten feet above a large, deep swimming pool by a system of cables and pulleys. All of this was designed to simulate a helicopter crash and would capsize upon entering the water.

The two-hour bus ride to the Marine Corps air station that morning would do nothing to calm my nerves. The fact that I was not in this alone was of no distraction to my fears. The truth was that I was terrified. I was on my way to a military aviation training evolution in which the main training aid was the 9D5, affectionately known as “The Dunker.” It was designed to train aviators for the worst, including how to fight the urge to panic.

Sitting in my seat awaiting my destiny, I thought back to an acronym mentioned in orientation. D.O.R. - which meant that we all had the option to Disenroll On Request, without reprimand. A big deal for the military setting I was in.

It played over in my head like a dream; I would get up and say that I was simply uncomfortable and be saved from this prospect that had brought me nightmares for months. Looking back, I try to remember if it was my will to succeed or fear that kept me from leaving my seat that day.

I tried to match the countdown in my head with that of the instructor's. However, it was unsuccessfully replaced with the rhythm of my heart pounding in my chest. The drop to the water was fast in contrast to the moments beforehand. However, the eight-second wait thereafter, in which we were to remain still and allow for all movement to subside, seemed like an utter eternity.

The chlorine from the water stung my nose at first and flooded me with self-doubt. The water, though inviting, sent a chill through my body. In that threshold of time my life stood in balance, without breath, without fear. I couldn't help but wonder, would a real helicopter crash go this way, this smoothly? Then I realized that it was the answer to that question that was the cause of my fear. Fear of this day, and of a job that would have me flying in potentially dangerous situations.

I unfastened my seatbelt and fought my way to the exit and freed myself of the mock helicopter. As I broke the surface of the water, elation filled me. I overcame.

I often draw strength from the lessons that I learned at The Dunker that day. I would probably describe what I learned there as the first life-lesson I faced as an adult. It's funny, because I even have a shirt to commemorate the experience. It reads, "Panic in a can" and "I will survive because of the 9D5."

I now know that self doubt and uncertainty are an all too prevalent part of life. But more importantly, I learned that it usually bridges the gap between where I am and where I want to be. So, I found strength in my weakness, and formed a roadmap of how I would overcome difficult situations in my life, one bridge at a time.

The Better Me, and Lammas?

For you fun-loving critics…here’s two days in a row!

I would like to lament about llamas. Actually, it’s supposed to be Lammas, I only assumed it was llamas. Who could tell the difference? Lammas happens to be Merriam Webster’s aptly timed word of the day, since today is August 1st, or Lammas Day in some English-speaking countries. But who ever heard of Lammas Day? It certainly doesn’t have anything to do with a certain furry long-necked mammal.

In case you were wondering…Lammas Day is a festival of the wheat harvest or the feast of first fruits. Another one of the celebrations continued on from the pre-industrialized world, where we actually had a hand in the food we ate, and the expression “the fruits of your labor” was a more literal one.

But am I really here to give a history lesson or a lecture on the laziness of…well, me and I would say, our society as a whole? No. It really just serves as a lesson to show how volatile my focus can be. By this, I mean I am distractible. Though, I prefer to say that I am inquisitive. Which is true, but it also is a testament to the fact that something as inconsequential as a word of the day e-mail can redirect me from something else that I “should” be doing. This also snowballs on me at times. Like my education on Lammas today. Of course, I had to find out what it was, but in the process of reading up on it, I also came across a chain of interesting tidbits of knowledge which I also took a quick interlude in.
This leaves me to wonder if I am only capable of achieving/learning something when there is something else that I would prefer to do less. If I’m being brutally honest with myself, I would have to say this is mostly true. However, there is something I read once about procrastination that I try to hold to, since I know being hard on myself is a precipitator to my procrastinating tendencies. In essense, what I read is that a leopard need not change his spots to be more effective, but that he can learn to be more effective by using those spots to his advantage. This is to say that although I could be more effective if I didn’t procrastinate, I can still use my avoidance and redirecting procrastination traits to my advantage as well. For instance, I can produce a blog for a second day in a row. Had I not put off that “something else”, I probably wouldn’t have gotten to the blog.

Ok, so I know that I am still slinging excuses your way, but these are internal debates I have with myself all the time. I am always seeking the better me and analyzing how to accomplish that. When I was a child, I would often sleep in and therefore leave for school too late. So, while I was walking to school, I would always imagine how much further ahead I would be if I had left on time, and then I would try and catch up to the “better me.” I think I am still doing that in my life today in some respects. If I could only catch up to that better me. I wonder where I could be.

And, would I still know what Lammas was?