LOG n.12 - Maybe

19.2. 0209 Puerto Mogán, Gran Canaria

Just came from playing with Rafa on the beach. We played in the sand and unfortunately picked a bad spot, because now I smell like human piss. I can identify a male who had approximately five lagers during the time of discharge.

This week I’ve been through a lot of feelings. Waiting for the insurance, as my wallet went on a diet. I am docked bow to the wall, and it’s disgusting. I can’t go freely onto and from the boat, because my pulpit is broken and my kayak has a hole—hahaha. And I am in no case going stern to, so every tourist in Mogán can see into my cockpit, and in the meantime, some other charter boat takes down the rest of the pulpit whilst attempting to dock.

Now the only way on-shore is through my neighbors, and they're not always home (they have a hydraulic passarella). I hope to change berths soon. But if not, I'll deal with it somehow. Probably by fixing the kayak.

All bad is good for something. I had some time to think. I might work in this profession, but the income is not stable, as I am on the move most of the time. I’ve done all the jobs here two weeks ago, so I could pay for the batteries and the charger I so desperately needed.

I am thinking about a lot nowadays. Being a marine technician on the go is a dream of many sailors. But I am not famous enough to do only this, whilst not having a base. And I don’t want a base. Really not. I won’t sacrifice my idea of freedom for a stable income. I just need new ideas.

Or the old ones.

We just come back to who we are. Exploring different chapters of our life, changing from one person to another, just to realize in the end that we’re indeed all of them.

Maybe I needed this. Maybe I needed this kick to actually pull my head out of the sand. A woman marine technician is a very likable combo. What about my other facets? They can be harsh. Powerful but harsh. Also misunderstood. Big time. It can create a substantial amount of disbelief. And when something creates disbelief, it's oftentimes comforted in the need to ridicule. But it can also awaken fear, which as easily ends up in that direction.

Maybe I am past the idea of caring about external opinions. I would think so. I have been for quite some time. Maybe now I am past caring about the reactions as well. Maybe. Just maybe. It is an extensive training I’ve been through with myself, to not care. And there are levels to it. Do I not care enough to unveil another layer to the public? Maybe.

Maybe I am. 

Maybe it’s time to finally break the wall.

Maybe.