Sitting at my computer at 11:22 in the morning, whoosh, a second ago it was 11:19. Damn.

Feeling out of the everything.

Isolated and alone and in a funk and Heather asked me to call the place that fixed our laser printer to see if they would like Herb Wittow's color printer, free, and I froze, I didn't want to call and I didn't want to do anything.

Fuck.

But Saturday I was together. I felt concern, worry, apprehension, maybe even fear, but Friday I made all of my arrangements, I did what I had to do. I put my gear together and planned my morning food, and packed a lunch! And laid out clothes and even went to bed 'early.' Well, that last one failed a bit, it was close to midnight, but I tried...

And I woke up and was ready to do it, and I thought it odd that I didn't hear the alarm, and so I checked, and it was 4:00 am, and I had another hour and three quarters to sleep, so I did, and when the alarm went off I got up, and I executed my plan.

I put my clothes on and I ate a banana and heated up some pasta and took my seasickness remedy-routines are good, and got into the car and made my way, mostly directly, to Lawson's landing.

Narrow roads, curvy, predawn darkness. Mist on the trees. Mist swallowed landscape.

I made one minor navigational error, but I was aware at the time that I was making a choice-buying a pig in a poke, and so I was watching the GPS, and made a correction before much harm was done, and I got to the marina before seven, close to 6:45, and I modeled what the other people were doing: following their lead, and asking questions, and being upfront with Jock about what I did, and did not, know how to do, and I was in the first group in the water, and I did so without assistance in gearing up, I followed instructions and threw my tank/bcd/regs over the side (after clipping them to a line) and I hopped in the water, and I didn't even think about asking the question (which was asked by another diver) "do you mind if I load my spear gun on the boat?" (the proper and given answer being 'Yes. No loaded guns on the surface!')

And I got in the water, and had my gear on and ready quickly, and I did the right things as far as diver to boat communications and asked the right questions and I went down and the vis was poor and I had a cluster fuck of lines at the bottom-my float line was wandering all over the place and it took a minute to straighten it out, but it was okay, and it took a minute to get my gun loaded but I got that straight.

I did lose the little 'cocking' tool, I didn't have it on a wrist strap and it floated away. Oh well. But I did a 36 minute dive flowing with the current-the incoming tide, and watching everything and trying to defog my mask and then when it was time to come up I discharged my gun-I think that was the first time I had shot the gun underwater (I shot a similar gun on the Vision-just not the same one!), and I stowed the spear and did an ascent-no reference points but I still followed my computer's ascent rate guidelines, and came up and got in the boat cleanly-the other diver was already in the boat, I went in before him and came out after and it all was fine.

Just fine.

And then I drove the boat while Gary and Jock dove. And that was the first time I had driven an outboard, at all! And I kept my divers in sight, even though they were widly seperated, and picked them up in the right places at the right time, and even started to get the feel for the boat and then I did another dive, not as long, but long enough, 26 minutes, and my mask didn't fog as much, and I saw two halibut, or at least, I saw the characteristic puffs of sand indicating that I had just missed them. If viz had been a few feet better-and when I get my corrective mask, I believe that I have a good chance at the game of halibut diving. It is not much of a game for the halibut, they are hanging out and then a spear comes through their bodies, but that isn't really my issue right now.

Peter Greenway's movie _Drowning by Numbers_ is bouncing around my head. I keep hearing Smut's narration, and I expect to see numbers hither and yon. "In the game of halibut diving the objective is to face one's fear of small boats and waves and current and low visibility and solitude by going out in a small boat and diving into the water. If one sees a halibut one is encouraged to shoot it through the center of its' being in an effort to end its' life and bring meat to the table. Since in our age there is no real need for more meat on the table, the prime orientation of the game is as an exercise in creative anarchy."

On my second dive I shot my spear gun several times. The first challenge was to load the gun. This is harder without the little cocking aid than with, but success was had. Later I was led to believe that if I am able to cock the gun without the tool, that my gun may need to be pumped up to make it harder to cock and incidentally shoot with more force. This will have some effect on the ability of my spear shaft to penetrate the living tissues of the fish.

Once I was comfortable with loading the gun, I commenced my dive. I looked and saw my halibut puffs, and a school of 'shiners,' small 'bait' fish upon which the halibut feed.

I also shot my gun four or five times. I aimed it at a bit of colored sand, perhaps a small item on the bottem, and was successful at hitting my target. This gave me the confidence to aim at a bit of seaweed (knowing that it was seaweed) and I received further encouragement by my success at this fine target.

During the in between dive interlude of motoring about, Gary had mentioned that he randomly stuck his spear into the sand, only to find that he had hit a halibut, or maybe hit right next to one, and so he was surprised when it took flight, shook ofr the sand, and leapt from his presence.

I took instruction from this experience and so periodically, and randomly, I stuck my spear in the sand, prepared to give my pneumatic all to any sea life that rose to the challenge. Alas, but as well perhaps for the best, I did not cause inconvenience to any halibut. I say 'for the best' because the extra excitement, adreneline, and task loading of shooting a fish might well have been too much for my delicate constitution.

And I did two dives, totalling 62 minutes of bottom time on 2400 psi of air out of an aluminum 80. Sure, it was shallow, but it was also cold water wet suit diving in a current doing a new thing.

Jock burned through two 50 cubic foot bottles, and I don't think he had as much time on the better part of 100 cubic feet of air as I did on my 5/6ths of an AL80.

Does that make me 'better?' No, no, that is not the point at all. I don't want to be better, I want to fit in. I want to know that I am somewhere in the fat part of the normal distribution for something. The comfortable conformist middle.

And then we decided that we had had enough fun chasing halibut, and we chatted with the other boats, and the folks in the one with the three guys in it, including Jed who had 8 five gallon water bottles in his el camino, for the collection of water for his salt water aquarium, and we all decided to do an abalone dive. Jock said "I can take us to a spot where we will have limits in five minutes."

So we went on in, and dropped off our scuba gear, you can't ab dive on a boat that has scuba gear, and we ate a bit and came back out. We were six divers on two inflatables, powering down Tomales Bay, toward the open ocean, and Jock said "As long as we're having fun, that's all that matters."

And we were having fun. Bouncing on the waves and then we rounded Tomales Point, and Jock had me throw in the anchor, and then pull it out and he moved a bit, and I threw it out again, but I didn't 'throw' it out, no, I lowered it, with care for where the line was in the boat, and it was wrapped around some bit of Jock's gear, and he took care of the tangle while I held the anchor, and then I let the rest of the line out.

And our two boats were anchored a rather easy conversational distance one from the other, and Gary and I started to get our gear together, to equip ourselves for the ordeal ahead, and then Gary said 'oh shit.' He had left his hood on shore, so he waited for someone with a detachable hood to finish diving, and I was getting my gear together, stealing myself for the challenge ahead, and then Jock was off the boat, and he adjusted his mask for a minute, I think he did a full face immersion to get that whole 'mammalian diving reflex' to kick in, this is the thing about mammalian physiology where a full face exposure to cold water is the body's signal that immersion is imminient and so heart rate and respiration slow down to enable longer down times, and then Jock was gone, no real fuss, he was just underwater, and I worked on my stuff, weight belt, or fins or something, and then a bit later Jock surfaced right next to the boat and clunked two abalone into the boat. I was surprised, and tried to say something, but didn't have much to say beyond "huh, how'd that happen?" and then he was gone again, and then two more abalone were in the boat and then Jock was in the boat taking off his gear.

I got into the water, ready to jettison my weight belt, I have never done free diving, not really, in a wet suit, with weight. I had 28 pounds of lead around my middle. It seemed that I was weighted for a tank dive, for a tank dive with an Aluminum 80, which is boyaunt at the end of the dive, so I could not be properly weighted for free diving, and so I worried that I would be sucked to the bottem by too much lead, but it was fine. I floated a bit low in the water, but with the snorkel it was okay, and I did a free dive.

I jack knifed and headed down. The visibility was 3-5 feet, and all I could see was particles streaming past my mask. All the movement was past my face, like a dog with his head out the window-all wind in my face and then the bottem emerged, first the palm kelp, or maybe some other form of bottem dwelling kelp, about 3 feet tall, and it was not moving in the same direction, so there was a lapse in sensory input, more a contradiction, as might happen if you freedove down... I don't have an image, a similie, but the bottem looked like a river moving fast, and then I was in the kelp, and through it and I could see rocks.

Jock had said to look at the base of the rocks, so I did, for a moment, and I thought I wanted to surface, so I swam up. And it was fine. Jock asked me if I got down okay, and I said yes, and I did a few more free dives, and then I came upon two abalone almost side by side, so I grabbed one, I don't even think that I used my ab iron, and I didn't even think about trying to grab the second one, and I swam up, and put it in the boat.

And that was the first Abalone that I have ever 'caught' free diving! And Jock said "Good, now go get some more." Friendly, kind, and I did some more dives, and I came on two side by side again, and the first one clamped down, so I moved to the second one, ab iron ready, and popped him right off, and surfaced.

I did a few more dives after that, but then my comfort zone was exceeded, my legs felt heavy, and I decided to take a breather, and that turned into a longer break, and then Gary called it a dive (he got a hood and went in at some point) with three abs, and I decided that two abalone were enough, and they were, we are not a huge family! And we motored in, and all was well in the world.

Moving forward to the point of this story: The thing is, that when I feel that the stakes matter, when something of consequence is on the line, then I perform.

I am a completly competent, and powerful man. My problem seems to be that right now I am not in balance. I do not believe, at some concious or unconcious level, that what I am doing matters. That, or I am simply not 'behind' my goal. I have not managed to convince myself of the value of my current tasks.

When it matters, I can perform. When I don't think it matters, then I don't perform.

So how can I make my daily programming life be something that I think matters?

And then after writing that last line, I turned to my email, and here on the 'Red Rock Eater' newsletter was an article from Phil Agre, a professor of some sort of information science deal. I like his writing, and so I read this:

"I don't know what to make of this paper. It's the strangest thing I've ever written. It grows out of many years of careful observation of the process by which I do whatever it is I do for a living. But its significance is not just personal. I believe that everyone has an intellectual calling, and for years I've evolved methods to force students out of an attitude of passive conformity, doing whatever the professor wants, and instead to discover what it is they really care about, so that they can articulate in intellectual terms a calling that they really feel, really believe in, and really get up in the morning to act on."