***THE LAST AQUA MAN***
Remember a blog entry a few weeks ago about my childhood
soccer team The Thunder Eagles? Well, that wasn’t just a fun story. It’s now an
undeveloped idea for a novel somewhere down the line. The reason Silent Warrior
resonated so well was because it was loosely based on real experiences I had.
The Last Thunder Eagle, as it’s now called, will hopefully resonate as well
since I used to be a sore loser. In some ways, I still am a sore loser and
perhaps this novel idea is what will exorcise those demons forever. But that’s
neither here nor there. I’ve already written the first chapter of Beautiful
Monster and I intend to see that one through to the epilogue. Wish me luck!
But as long as I’m being inspired by stories from my past
(that thankfully aren’t too traumatic), I might as well throw another one out
there and see if it sticks. In the same way The Last Thunder Eagle is intended
to be about soccer, The Last Aqua Man will be about swimming lessons, should it
ever become a novel idea. When I was a kid, I already knew how to doggie paddle
from point A to point B. But that just wasn’t enough for some reason, so my
parents signed me up for swimming lessons at the community pool. Although I
didn’t get hit with any soccer balls or knocked down, I still was not a happy
camper.
There were six different levels of difficulty for these
classes: Beginner’s Level Parts 1-4, Intermediate, and Advanced. During both
rounds of swim lessons, I was placed in Beginner’s Level 4 and never passed to
the next tier. One of the big reasons for this was because I hated sticking my
head underwater without plugging my nose first. I hate water in my nose, I hate
coughing it up, I hate blowing it out, and I hate water in my ears. I would
have worn a pair of goggles that protected my nose, but the swim instructors
wouldn’t let me use them. Instead they suggested that I hold my breath before
sticking my head underwater. Didn’t work. I ended up feeling like a whitewashed
version of Crazy K from Tales from the Hood. I know I make that reference a
lot, but there aren’t a whole lot of movies out there where somebody shoves IV
straws up another man’s nose, so that’s all I’ve got to work with.
During the second season of swim classes, one of our
assignments was to dive right into the water, head first, arms extended. The
first time I did this came without incident. In fact, my parents applauded me
from the sidelines. And then with every successive time came more water in my
nose and throat and not enough ways to expel it. After a while I just refused
to dive and instead did a pencil jump while holding my nose shut. I already
told you guys that I never passed either season of classes, but at this point I
didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck. I was the Last Thunder Eagle and the
Last Aqua Man all in one childhood. Sports really aren’t my thing after all.
Hell, even gym class in general was an exhausting nightmare at times.
When I talked about The Thunder Eagles, I mentioned how
soccer could be improved if hardcore violence was allowed. Well, I don’t think
the same could be said for this blog entry. My misery was nobody else’s
fault…this time. Nobody pushed me in the pool. Nobody tried to drown me. Nobody
splashed me while I had my clothes on. Who was I going to beat the crap out of?
The closest I could ever come to that would have to be literally cutting my
nose off to spite my face. Yeah, that’s right! It’s my nose’s fault for
allowing water to get in there in the first place. That’s not what noses are
for! Isn’t that right, Melanie Good’s character from Die Watching? Now there’s
a reference absolutely nobody is going to get…unless you’re into that sort of
thing. Then again, “that sort of thing” is the only reason why I know that
movie exists. How sad. How relentlessly sad.
So how exactly would The Last Aqua Man become a reasonable
story? Would it be too similar to The Last Thunder Eagle? Am I just destined to
write novels about sore losers my entire career? Mitch McLeod was a sore loser
(when he did lose, which was not often). Mario Bryan was a sore loser. And now
the main character from The Last Thunder Eagle, a ten-year-old named Alex
Woodley, is going to be a REALLY sore loser. Brock Lesnar once said it best: in
order to know how to win, you have to know how to lose. He was a sore loser in
college and so am I in the real world.
And that’s the thing about life itself: failure is
inevitable, but it’s how we react to it that will determine future success.
Some people will pick themselves up and dust themselves off to go to work the
next day. Others will crumble under the pressure and give up altogether. There
were some things in my life that were worth continuing and some that I gave up
on. I gave up on playing the guitar because I couldn’t move my fingers quickly
enough across the frets. I gave up on playing Street Fighter IV because Abel
kept getting cheap victories over me. I gave up on playing Magic: the Gathering
because it became more about capitalism rather than the love of the game.
But when it comes to my creative outlets, mental health, and
physical health, those are things I will never compromise on. These three
things can’t exist without each other. I write for a living. I work on other
creative endeavors for the love of art. I need a clear mind to do those things.
And as far as physical health goes, I know my bulging belly will tell you
otherwise, but I’ve actually lost a lot of weight in the past few months. I eat
only three meals a day without snacking on sugary foods, I walk long distances
whenever it’s nice outside, and I drink a lot of unsweetened iced tea. A lot! I
haven’t kept track of how much weight I’ve lost, but I know I must be doing
something right, because I can make it up and down the stairs without being
overly winded. I guess there is life beyond childhood soccer and swimming. I’m
Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
ME: You know, Reina, there was once a time when I considered
Squall Leonhart from Final Fantasy VIII to be my own personal hero. He had no
emotional attachments, no unnecessary relationships, and he mastered the art of
giving zero fucks.
REINA: So basically your hero was an angsty teenager?
ME: No, that’s not what he is!
REINA: He sounds like an angsty teenager, Garrison. I bet he
listens to a lot of Linkin
Park
ME: Final Fantasy VIII came out a few years before the first
Linkin Park
REINA: He still would have listened to them.
