Diary? Nothing that I wouldn't tell a client. Not everything that is written pertains to me or my life.
The things I see, hear...the people I talk to, all influence or impact my thoughts. Just saying!

Friday, July 16, 2010

Putting It Off

I remember my college days when I would procrastinate writing a paper. Anything would sound more appealing and all of a sudden very important; social obligations, laundry, 'more pressing school work' ...and I would jump at the chance, as long as I could prolong the time until I would have no other choice but to write it or not do it at all. In the end, I would write my paper the morning of, and get a pretty decent grade too. The thing is, here I am writing, only because I am putting off a detestable thing I got myself into, very unwillingly...
Grandpa said he would come at 6 am. He didn't. Since he's cancelled before and is an aging man, I wasn't going to bother calling. I just thought he was too tired anyway. He came, just before I rode off on my bike, at 6:30. We drove to Bear Lake for my first ever fishing trip.
There is something amazing and relaxing about the sound and the feel of casting a fishing line; as it flies through the air and the weight plops into the water, making circular ripples from where it sinks. I practiced a bit, throwing it out and reeling it back in...

While we waited for the visible tug of the line, as the rod sat on a cone or on some brush, grandpa and I talked. I would ask him fishing questions and he would explain and point things out about all the surrounding lakes, fish, bait, and tools. We would talk about his life. Things I never knew. There would be extended historical introductions and long pauses in his conversation and I would have to be very patient knowing that is how he talks. This is actually my first year of knowing my grandpa on a personal level. I had no clue to the extent of this trip thinking it was just good to go out, do something I've never done before. But closer towards the end of our time together, he told me that he had put himself in a dark dungeon (his small apartment) this last year (after his wife's death), and I have brought him out. He said thank you and that it brought feeling of nostalgia for him. He even got excited about other lakes we could go to in the near future. It was very touching and eye opening for me.

I am not one to fish or hunt or do anything else that includes killing or causing pain to anything. If I ever go fishing again, it will be catch and release. I don't like the look of a desperate fish trying to free itself from the hook in it's mouth.
And the thing is, I brought the fish home, and am stuck with having to be the one to clean them and gut them and prepare them. I have no history or knowledge or desire of doing such things. It may be a passion, a hobby in whole -catching, cleaning, cooking, but it's no passion of mine! I've already tried to give one away, but I know it falls to me, and I am stalling, putting it off, knowing perfectly well I have to do it. Soon, weather I like it or not... I think I will puke.