Aqua

I am in a very strange mood today. One might call it an almost ethereal apathy, where I have a hard time caring about anything but in a much deeper way than the statement itself suggests. I'm not just separated from everything, but I am, essentially, completely insubstantial to the things that are around me. I'm not sure I've ever felt this way before, but basically it involves me spacing out frequently, not really listening to what the people around me are saying, having no opinion on the subjects at hand, saying very little, and speaking very softly.

It's pretty much the anti-Vivienne, right there.

Needless to say, this serene state of indifference does not last very long. It was over pretty much the moment I stepped on the subway this morning.

What does it take to spawn the anti-Vivienne? The Nikki to my Jessica? The Sara Kerrigan to my Queen of Blades? The Jekyll to my Hyde? While you may sit there in your throne of literary superiority and point out that Jekyll and Hyde were not "good and evil" (respectively) so much as they were simply two extreme representations of the same man, I'll simply say that, um, yeah. Get out.

On a very pleasant Sunday morning, I awoke at the alarming hour of 9:17 am. Being that I had not gone to bed until 4 am after another typical Saturday (even though there's nothing typical about seeing the Transformers movie a second time), this was disconcerting to me…until I noticed the brilliant sunshine beaming through my curtains.

Instantly, I picked up the phone and sent a text message to Michelle and, for the first time in known history, woke her up instead of the other way around. This message asked if she'd be up for going to a place called Mandarine City (no, there is no spelling error there, that is what the place is really called). She told me she wouldn't be able to join me until later, but sent me the address and all that fun stuff like the excellent friend that she is.

What followed was an ill-conceived mass text-messaging of most of my regular crew members, many of whom were either still asleep or already at work and thus unable to call in sick on such a rare, beautifully sunny Sunday in Shanghai.

I snuggled in bed a little while longer, enjoying the sunshine, then got up and proceeded to deplore how my outfit for the day looked on me. It was, suffice to say, a less than glorious sight…but it would be well-hidden.

At 11:55 am, I was in a cab with Mylynn, the very first person to text me back with a reply. Being that we live five minutes away, we shared a cab and went west in Gubei for approximately 38 yuan. At about 12:25, we arrived at the Mandarine City outdoor pool.

As some individuals from SE++ and elsewhere know, likely via the AIM attack I received shortly after waking up that morning, that day was my first day in a bikini. It was, simply put, a mind-bender of a self-esteem issue for me, what with my self-consciousness consuming me from all angles at once, forming a veritable, collapsing vacuum around me. It took a lot of effort and distraction for me not to change into my usual one-piece bathing suit instead of the bikini.

The reason why I've never worn a bikini until now, if you are curious, is more a practicality issue more than a self-esteem one. I was a competitive swimmer for about 15 years of my life, so whenever I hear "pool" or "beach" I think "swimming!" A bikini is not exactly the most practical item for the job.

Mylynn and I arrived at the pool, bumping into a friend of hers on the way in, and already there is my ever-faithful favorite, Mr. Romain Hefti himself, already enjoying the water. For several moments I stood by our table, hesitating, not really wanting to take off my T-shirt or undo my sarong, but at length decided to just rip it off like a too-sticky Band-Aid. Within 30 seconds of the removal of said outer armor, I hopped into the pool.

It was glorious. Prior to that moment, it had been upwards of about two years since I was last in a real pool, and I had forgotten just how happy being in the water makes me.

Many people, I have heard, tend to identify themselves with a single element more than others…possibly Captain Planet style sans the superpowers and screwed-over-South-American. Mine is undoubtedly the water. As I said to Romain yesterday after admissions that it was gonna sound "really cheesy," in the water is where I belong, and realizing that at a time where I am finally happy with the kind of person I've become…it's a lethal combination that throws a rather large boulder of regret right into the pit of my stomach that whispers, "you should've gone with your first instinct and been a marine biologist or an oceanographer."

I cannot tell you how amazing it was to be in the water again. I felt at home, I felt safe, I felt powerful. Within an hour I completely forgot I had previously been in a state of self-conscious anxiety and just enjoyed the water. Being underwater, feeling it hold me tightly yet gently, the way nothing else ever could, brought me an inexplicable feeling of tranquility and happiness.

As I repeated several times that day: "do not underestimate how much I love the water."

(To some extent, it is also the reason I love rain, be it a drizzle or a thunderstorm. I love the ocean for a myriad of reasons, one of them being that it is essentially a massive body of water.)

In the water, I am far from master or commander, but I can hold my own. I am an excellent swimmer, though years of neglect have caused my lung capacity to shrivel somewhat from its former asthmatic glory (little known fact: I was asthmatic when I was younger and I basically beat the crap out of that infliction by swimming it to death), so I can't swim with nearly the speed or power that I could before. My form, however, is pretty much just the way it used to be, though with some additional drag since the girls were not restrained under the cover of a one-piece bathing suit.

We spent about 5 hours at the pool (Remy and Melanie joined us a little bit after we arrived), with me being in the water for at least 4 hours and 45 minutes of it, only getting out to check my cell phone. I used the excuse that I wanted to hide my hideous abdomen from the world, but really I just wanted to stay in the water as long as humanly possible. I will admit that even when the others were ready to leave, I was not…I wanted to stay much, much longer.

It was with a heavy heart that I departed, and once I stepped out of the shower and sat on my bed, I felt a wave of depression wash over me. I know it's weird beyond even my own standards, but I can't explain it. I wanted to go back and jump into the water for just a while more.

Following the depression came this sense of great detachment described in the opening paragraphs of this too-long rambling. All through dinner, at which I met up with my friends once more, I was removed from the conversation…aloof, wistful, as it were.

I just really miss being in the water, being in a place in which I feel safest and most alive. I can't wait to go back.