Diving Lessons

I walked in with expectations set at a maximum. A rocket ship on a mission to explore the Universe couldn't soar any higher than such a maximum. They assured my continued safety: they being the kind-yet-deceitful people and not my expectations. I was always taught to jump in head first, although the thought of diving into a standing body of water scares me more than investing a minute or two out of my 500 allotted and timidly touching send preceded by a 10-digit code said to connect me directly to the girl at whom I would inquire Friday's plans. It would have been simpler to have said, "Diving scares me more than asking a girl on a date." Either way you view it, its veracity is in the affirmative.

I proceeded from whence to hence ever-cautiously with shields up and the proverbial phaser-banks loaded to capacity. Prepared to take the leap of faith, my mind wandered back to my childhood. By childhood, of course, I'm referring to a period of my life that took place 3 years ago. My days that summer consisted of a few hours spent devising plans and study guides for the future education of the student populace in fields from basic Multivariate Calculus to Biomedical Science and Quantum Mechanics. Gone were the simple days of Math 101. We were in an ever-changing world and attempts to impede change and growth were futile. One should add that students who would resist this imminent change were consequently rejected by society, or rather the Utopian standards which were being implemented into society, and thereby subjected to a meaningless existence, allowed only one hour of entertainment, such as an anime cartoon; the rest of their pathetic days were spent writing, "I will cease this impotence immediately," while simultaneously baking loaves of french baguette for those of us with a keener intellectualism.

On my leave, I would frolic my merry way home to greet my so-called amigos as we would pile into an automated horseless carriage, commonly known as a car, and head to the pool. One friend attempted to teach my otherwise quick-adapting brain cells (whose growth rate is 10 times faster than quick-rise, instant, dry yeast on 2 tablespoons of pure-cane sugar used by The Incompetents) how to properly send messages via electrical currents to my stubborn legs, arms, and fingertips and instruct them to dive head-first into the pool. The real problem was never an issue of getting my body to form the proper diving pose as it was with convincing myself that water is quite a bit softer than cement from such a short distance, and that my body would act as a genuine Moses and divide the water, providing safe passage into the pool by means of a flawless, painless, and beautiful swan dive. The judges would all hold up a card with the number 10 printed in bold Times New Roman.

As my confidence grew, so did my eagerness to show off to a delightful member of the female gender. Hey you, dame! I would say, for in those days, it was appropriate to address a woman as such, as you thoughtfully shared a bowl of strudel over a roaring campfire whilst discussing theories on Galactic Economics. Look what I can do! I said. Climbing up the ladder, my legs began to involuntarily tremble. I stepped closer to the edge of the diving board, shifting my weight up and down ever-so-slightly in order to assess its ability to flex and the effectiveness of its springs. One!, I cried. Two! A slight whimper escaped the gaps in my teeth and projected towards the female ape-decendent anxiously awaiting my already-presumed belly-flop before the subsequent number was reached. Three!, I yelled, and was off. Soaring. I felt not unlike a bowling ball as it's heaved by a 2-year-old as high as that 2-year-old can muster the strength to toss it. The tosser. Up I went. One inch. Two inches. Back to one inch. All members and extremities now flailing about like Edward from Cowboy Bebop. You can imagine what came next.

Embarrassment. I will not stand for this.

These thoughts were more prevalent and more present in my mind than Kate Beckinsale at any other given time. Should I dive?

Reassured of my safety, I allowed my expectations to maintain steady their present altitude. It was short lived. They stabbed me through the heart with their proverbial dull, jagged knife. I didn't say this would be a happy post.