I need a Boswell who skydives, mostly because I keep forgetting to log my jumps after I do them and then have to do some detective work to find out which dates I was at the DZ. (Thankfully, this is what Twitter seems to be good for.)
I have a gazillion ideas for blog posts, but I never seem to have the time to update, although I suppose that is because I am either falling through the sky or sleeping off my adrenaline crash. The season is winding down to a close for me (alas!) as Bear has started med school again. I am hopeful that we will get at least one more day of jumping in this summer, if things don’t get too crazy too quickly cutting up dead bodies.
Well, if my season is drawing to a close, at least I can review a book about a different sort of season altogether. (Ah ha! Did you see what I did there, oh-so-clumsily?)
My A license stamp! Ordinarily it would be on my forehead, but I lucked out.
After two long years (with a 10 month hiatus in between), Bear and I have received our A licenses at last. It’s been a long journey, but completely and utterly worth it.
Skydivers are a curious breed. To call us adrenaline junkies would be over-simplification; of course, we are adrenaline junkies. Not many people would willingly throw themselves out of a plane two and a half miles above the earth. Over and over again. But the thrill of falling through the skies, of possibly getting one step closer to death—that fades within two or three jumps. Jumping is only really and truly scary the first time.
Thanks to everyone who recommended books to me. I have not yet taken up everyone on their recommendations (I am totally running out and getting Catherynne Valente’s PALIMPSEST when I get the chance), although I did spend part of my birthday giftcard on two books to read on my road trip down to North Carolina. (Amazingly, I did not get carsick.)
North Carolina was the furthest south I had ever been in the United States (excluding Disneyworld, Florida, which in all honesty, is not part of The South) and boy was it enlightening. Bear and I took the I-95 from New Brunswick, New Jersey, all the way down through Philadelphia (which has the highest number of billboards on the highway), Wilmington, Baltimore, Washington D.C. (where we took an accidental detour through the Capitol that delayed us for an hour and a half), and the entire state of Virginia, which seems to be the longest state ever.
Indoor skydiving can really take it out of a girl. Especially if she’s developed a previously unknown shoulder problem that has a propensity to dislocate in the middle of a skydive. I mean, what the fuck? This has happened to me twice now and it’s never happened before. I’ve never injured my shoulder in any capacity (I can’t say that about my knee…or my back…or my pelvic bone…) and all of a sudden it decides that it can’t take the pressure anymore and loses it. Body, you are on notice. Time to haul you to the gym for some strength training.
I have been remiss in blogging, mostly because in the past week I’ve driven a total of 18 hours down to North Carolina and back and spent 15 minutes in a wind tunnel using all of the small muscles in my body. It’s easy falling out of a plane. The hard part is maintaining absolute control of how you fly.
Fortunately, this time I have obtained some video of my airtime that I will foist upon the unsuspecting public. Luckily for you, I won’t put up the entire 15 minutes. I edited together a “greatest hits” compilation, if you will.
Has it really been a week since I’ve updated last? Yikes.
As seems to be the tradition since I’ve reached “adulthood,” my natality seems to be a week-long celebration. Wednesday night I went over to Sofa’s apartment for an evening of Bones and wine coolers as we are wont to do, except she surprised me by taking me up to the roof of her apartment and wishing me a happy birthday as it turned midnight. We then proceeded to watch Bones until we passed out around 5:30am. She went to work, I stayed in her apartment and watched more Bones until I had to meet up with my friend Jess for lunch.
Russ joined us for Indian food at Tiffin Wallah on 29th and Lexington and then we enjoyed an absolutely gorgeous day walking around New York City. In the evening, hoards of people appeared at my door to go to the Astoria Beer Garden, where we had pitchers of a girly cocktail and the non-vegetarians indulged in some bratwurst. In my life I have been extraordinarily blessed with friends and I am grateful for each and every one of them.
Uncreated Conscience is JJ's blog, in which she rambles about the toils and tribulations of writing her first novel, why CSS eats her brain, or how skydiving takes all of her money.
And when she's done with that, she's reviewing books and looking for fiction to publish for postadolescent, "new adults.
