JOSePHInE: A Tragic Love Story

            I was recently the victim of some computer problems. This doesn’t sound like the makings of a good story, but I think there is something to be learned from how it affected me and how I dealt with it.

            First, I should explain that my computer is named JOSePHInE (Jacob’s Own Self-Produced Home Information Engine, yes it’s lame, but I like it), and she is very special to me. I built her a little over a year ago and we have had many good times since. She has always been healthy and well behaved and this is the first problem we have had.

Sexy

            It all started with a few crashes of my system. At first I thought this was due to the KotOR game that I had recently started replaying, which was a distressing problem on its own. A more problem was made obvious when we had trouble booting up. The true source was in JOSePHInE’s hard drive, which the motherboard was having problems finding. To be specific, it was her solid state drive (SSD), which is the smallest of her three hard drives, but the one with the operating system on it. This was surprising since I figured the SSD would be more reliable that her hard disk drives (HDD), one of which is about ten years old. JOSePHInE was still capable of lucid operations for about an hour at a time, so after much fiddling, and unplugging and replugging wires, and endless blowing on contacts, I determined that a transplant would be necessary. JOSePHInE helped me order up a new SSD and then I let her rest and the waiting started.

I'd say about 99% of the physical side of computer repair is plugging thing in

            A kind of depression soon set in to my life as I realized how attached I had become to my computer. I suddenly had a lot of free time that I didn’t know how to spend. I started cooking elaborate meals more often, watching all of my directors commentaries that I hadn’t seen yet (yes, I like directors commentaries), and playing my X-box more often, but it wasn’t the same. I missed my girl; all the things we used to do together, the things she enabled me to do, and just the sound of her in my apartment. I’m talking about her like she was my girlfriend, and that is actually a strong analogy for our relationship. I spent a large amount of my free time with her, I spent money on her with frequent “gifts”, and she was also my primary source of sexual stimulation (that is a pornography reference, not a sex with an inanimate object reference, just so you know where I draw the line).

            After just over a week of cursing my decision not to pay for fast shipping, the new SSD finally arrived. I began the transplant surgery with JOSePHInE acting as a more than able operating assistant (there’s not a lot she can’t teach me with a Google search). This reminded me of the scene from Star Trek when Spock losing his brain and then ends up assisting McCoy in the re-implantation (it was a pretty terrible episode, but a fun idea). JOSePHInE was amazingly sober during the process and was pulling flawless reboots and other actions which I didn’t think she could still do. After a few stressful hours of work we were able to clone her old hard drive onto the new one and got the whole system running normally again. It has only been two days now, but the crashes have not returned and I am happy to have my baby back to her old self again.

My History with Women - Part Four (Still Lame as Hell: The College Years)

                Now I’m a college student in Rapid City, SD. High school senior cockiness has been replaced be college freshman meekness. The beard was gone, only to be replaced by an atrocious ball cap that I had been wearing for ten years (what it lacked in cleanliness and structural integrity it made up for in sentimental value). I had also been wearing nothing but shorts and white tee shirts (symbolically appropriate color wise) for a few years now. I was prepared to meet new and interesting women, and then repel them just as hard as ever.

                We can basically skip my first two years, because they were uneventful even by my standards. Living in the dorms made me even more anti-social than usual, and I was big into escapist video gaming at the time. I did develop a crush on a geology major who was in my Chemistry 101 lab group, but I never did anything but pine after her for the rest of my college career. I should also mention that my college had something like a 7:1 boy to girl ratio, so it wasn’t exactly a target rich environment.

This picture actually has an atypically large number of girls in it

                In junior year, my best friend transferred schools and we got a place together, so my social attitude was much improved. I started to make some actual friends in my classes, but mostly the non-traditional students since I have always been precocious, and wasn’t about to go mainstream with my socialization or anything. One of my friends happened to be a single mother with a job, so we developed a mutually beneficial relationship where I would help her with school and she would introduce me to women. This led to a couple of misadventures. First she introduced me to her cousin who seemed like a good match for me. The problem was that she was leaving on a Peace Corp trip in a few weeks, so there wasn’t a lot that I could do with that.

                The more interesting match happened in the summer after junior year. I was interning in Pierre, SD, and that happened to be the location of the Girls’ State Softball Tournament. My friend was on a team and invited me down to meet people. There were hundreds of girls there so the odds of finding a girl who would talk to me were good. One girl flagrantly said hello to me as I walk past her and her friends, so I was feeling confident. My friend eventually coaxed a shortstop into talking with me, since I am completely unable to cold approach women. We chatted between games throughout the two day tournament. We were able to keep a steady conversation with the help of competitive sports as a topic, but their weren't exactly fireworks between us. At one point, some of the lesbians present warned me that this girl was tripping their gaydar, but I choose to ignore this and attributed her slight standoffishness to my awkwardness.

                After the tournament ended we agreed to keep texting and she went back to Rapid City. I figured that this would work well, since we could develop a conversational rapport over the summer so that things would be less awkward in the fall when I returned to Rapid and we started dating. I was able to learn a lot about her, some rudimentary conversation skills, and how to text adequately (I got a cell phone when I went to college finally). She was a Radiology Tech intern at the hospital and was from Montana. She liked her peanut butter smooth and had strong feelings against white bread.

                A few weeks before school started I was in town to move to my new studio apartment (my friend was getting an apartment with his girlfriend). I asked if she wanted to go out while I was in town, but she gave me a semi-shady excuse. It was at this point that I began to believe that the fabled lesbian prophesy of old might be coming true. Anyhow, we kept texting until school started and then I was back in town to stay. The jig was up and I asked her if she was interested in dating me. She responded with something like “I don’t want a boyfriend right now”, so either she really was into women or she just wasn’t buying what I was selling and wanted to let me down gently (not unlikely). It is also entirely possible that she was telling the complete truth, and was just busy with her job/school life and just didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Our conversations were never more than friendly, so I didn’t exactly charm her (mostly “how was your day”, and no “here is a picture of me in my underwear”). I got some talking to women practice out of it so no hard feelings.

                I didn’t do anything with my entire senior year, since at the speed I move I probably need more than a year to get anywhere. I also don’t really have any interest in just for fun relationships, so I didn’t want to get a girlfriend just so we could break up when I moved after graduation. I did fall in love with a girl who I saw listening to some Hall and Oates, but I never saw her again after that so it wasn't really a big deal. Now college had come and gone, but my chastity was still holding strong.

                After graduating I started a full time job in Pierre, the same job where I interned the previous summer. I hate to say it, but Pierre isn’t exactly a cornucopia of young single women. On top of that, civil engineering is a terrible profession for meeting females (unless you count the occasional rugged construction working ones, but I would rather not). It has been over a year and a half now, and all I have succeeded in doing is to become even more eccentric and undateable (I started a blog and learned how to solder, LADIES). I stopped wearing my old cap, but have started wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses and Hawaiian shirts, so I’m still driving away women like champion. My current infatuation is a girl who works across the street and rides a bike to work. I’ve started riding a bike to work now in an ingenious a lame attempt to get her attention. I don’t even know her name and haven’t seen her in a while now that the weather is getting cold, so I give it about a 99% chance of not going anywhere. One the plus side, riding a bike to work is totally worth it on its own, and is still fun even though I’m not twelve years old anymore (riding through sprinklers is one of my favorite things ever).

What a jerk

                In conclusion, most people have had more romantic experience during a first date than I have had in my entire life. While writing this I got the impression that my fumblings as a youth were amusing, but as I got older just became somewhat sad. The thing is, I don’t really feel sad about it. I don’t know if it’s just my ego trying to defend itself, but I like the way that I am. For one, my lack of experience makes me different and unique, and that is something I probably put too much value in. Secondly, not needing to maintain complex social relationships also gives me a huge amount of time to do all the things that I want to do. What scares me is that I would like even more alone time than I already have (if I could just stop needed to sleep), and I worry that this could be a problem if I do get into a relationship. Anyway, I'm happy with the way my life is now, but I also think I would be happy in a relationship, so I win either way.

TLDR: I’m going to die alone, but it’s totally cool.

My History with Women - Part Three (Slow Times at Campbell County High)

                High school continues. I am now equipped with a misunderstanding about how attractive women find me and a desire to gain as much dating experience as possible. I still have bad facial hair, and still have no understanding of how to behave around girls. Self-embarrassment ahoy!

                Seventeen was a busy year with two more attempts at dating (I guess all those rock songs were right). The first victim of my spastic advances was WAY out of my league. She was a star on the track and cross country teams, in the advances math class, attractive, and nice, to list just a few of her virtues. We were friendly in school (not flirty though, since I’m not sure if I actually can flirt), and we used to do stuff like play cards in math class, so I think I had semi-decent groundwork set up this time. She was one of the first girls that I recruited for my co-ed softball team, which was basically just a giant scheme to get me a girlfriend, with softball being a fringe benefit (I somehow got enough girls to fill half a softball team, even if many of them skipped games fairly often and we were constantly having problems with getting enough girls to play. The girl I liked had a good attendance record however). I had told some friends that I wanted to ask her out so I had some peer pressure pushing me to make a move, which didn't really help me be relaxed about it. I cornered her after one of our softball games and popped the question “Hey, would you like to go out with me sometime?”. She responded with “You mean as friends?”.  My composure shattered like sugar glass, and I lied “Yes”. She ended up giving me her phone number, and I used it to torture her with a few awkward hang outs over the summer. Not my finest hour. I later learned that she knew that I didn’t intend my proposal to be friendly, but I appreciate it that she rejected me in a gentle fashion, although if she would have been mean about it maybe I could have gotten over her better.

Who wouldn't want to date this guy?

                 Before junior prom I got a little desperate and decided to ask a girl that I didn’t even really like if she would go with me. Since I was still feeling the sting of the previous rejection, I went for what I thought was an easy target. I also tried to determine her feelings before putting myself on the line. This didn’t really turn out well, as my intended intermediary failed to understand my desire for subtlety, and ended up just straight asking her for me. She already had a date, so it was all just a waste of time.

                After that year I became a senior, and had the cocky attitude to go with it. I joined an art class from the purpose of picking up chicks (it was actually so I could graduate with honors, but the chicks angle sounds less lame). There was a nice petite girl in my class who was what I later learned to be emo (it was still a new thing at the time). She had bangs in front of one eye and a red streak in her hair anyway. I was actually able to do what might have been decent flirting, which was mostly due to the fact that we both had friends in the class so it was really just group banter. One of my friends happened to be dating one of her friends (not the same people as the ones in the class), so I thought I had a chance. She already had a boyfriend who wore the same pants as her though, so nothing happened.

                I also did some good (for me) flirting with a girl in my gym class (I consider ironic trash talk and cocky behavior while playing sports to be flirting, even if it's never got a very positive response from girls). I blew any shot that I probably didn’t had with two smooth moves. First, I nearly hit her in the face while spiking a volleyball and was then cocksure about it. She got mad, because you have to protect the moneymaker. Next, I hit her with a racial joke that I don’t think she appreciated.  While walking to the soccer fields someone said “What do soccer and Mexicans have in common?” (she was Mexican). I blurted “Neither one belongs in this country!”, which I still think was clever, but it was also not very sensitive. I followed my quip with an immediate Ohh… as I realize that I had just erred. Both of the previous two girls were sophomore, which I’m not proud of, but I needed every advantage that I could get.

These were my sweet wheels in high school, also my cousin shooting a shotgun

                Towards the end of senior year a girl told me that she would go to the prom with me, but at that point I didn’t really think that starting a relationship would be worth it, knowing the slow pace that I work at. Proms aren’t really my scene anyway. I was feeling a bit defeatist at this point. She was really nice though, and I would tease her about having a brain tumor because she got hiccupping fits. She also complimented me on my speech about digging holes that I gave in English class, which I appreciated. To be honest I just didn’t feel that she was smart enough for me, and I’m not certain if that is a legitimate reason to rebuff her.

                Thus high school came and went, yet my total virginity remained. Next time will take us through college and up to the present.

My History with Women - Part Two (Fail Harder)

 The failure continues. Now I’m in high school, and driving has led me to discovering a whole new world of independence. I had also discovered a new, nearly 100% effective, form of birth control… bad facial hair. The summer before junior year (nothing to report for sophomore year) I found out that I could grow a goatee and mustache without needing to shave my cheeks or sideburns (it just grew in as a natural Van Dyke). I immediately stopped shaving because I thought this was stupendous (I still struggle with acknowledging how terrible of an idea this is). My poor grooming choices did fail to keep one girl from liking me, and this brings us to the most advanced romantic experience of my life.

Don't let the beautiful Alaskan scenery fool you, that beard was terrible

It all started in the lunch room, which would be the key location of our whole relationship. One day while heading back to class I was stopped by a girl. This would easily be enough to make me nervous but this girl really threw me off. She was what I will describe as Hard; an open lesbian, and a punk (spiked dog collar, buzzed hair, authority problems), so I figured that I was about to get punched in the throat. Turns out she wasn’t trying to steal my lunch money, and she informed me that NAME REDACTED liked me and that I should ask her out. I was so startled that I failed to ask her to point this girl out, and left in a daze, desperately trying not to forget this name.

At this point in my life I had realized that I desperately needed some experience with dating. I pulled together all of my paltry resources to find out who this girl was. I caught a break when one of my friends who was working on the yearbook (on the nerdy computer end, not the cool pictures and surveys end) got a picture of her and was able to point her out. I found her attractive and I decided to go for it (I would have found any girl who I knew liked me attractive at this point). I tried something new this time and asked her out in person (it’s easy to be brave when you already know that she is interested).

Our first date was a movie. Her mom had to drive her there since it turned out she was young for her grade (a 15 year old sophomore), and couldn’t drive yet. We barely talked during the whole movie (she had an uncanny ability to answer every question in a way that prevented further conversation on the topic), and the date ended with a hug in front of her mom, so… a lot of progress actually. Other dates include roller skating (I got a blister the size of a golf ball), bowling (with just the two of us, so it was impossible to hold a decent conversation), eating Italian food (I hate Italian food), watching the Super Bowl (I don’t watch football), and religious events (I’m not a fan of organized religion). There were a few particularly awkward moments as well. After we had been dating for a while I had to specifically ask her to go out with me, because apparently dating and going out isn’t the same thing and she wasn’t officially my girlfriend yet. I was also threatened by one of her male friends if I ever hurt her feelings, but he did handstands while he roller skated, so I think I could have taken him. 

Why you gotta always use so much cheese Italians?

At one point, I remembered how we first met. I was walking out of the lunch room a few weeks before the previous mention, when a girl asked me what my name was. I fought the urge to panic as I realized that a girl was talking to me, and over-enunciated my name like a champion. She then asked me if I knew some guy (I forgot his name). I said that I didn’t, so she responded with “Oh, I thought you might since you have the same facial expressions.” That preposterous statement rendered me speechless, and I soon forgot about the occurrence (I also forgot her face, since I managed to avoid eye contact during that whole encounter).

Trouble started in the relationship when she and her friends started mixing with my friends. If I hadn’t been intoxicated by the fact that girls were finally paying attention to me I probably would have found them annoying as well (they were weird kids; a number of them were Wiccans, which I would later insensitively describe as devil worship to make the story more interesting). Her friends thought that they were now friends with my friends, which means that I was the only person ever to bring girls to our lunch table, or fans to our basketball games (I think the main similarity between my friends were their lack of contact with females), but there were some complaints. I had some newly acquired female friends (second degree friends really, but I still thought my girl problems were coming to an end. SPOILER: They weren’t), and my girlfriend was being more forward than they were comfortable with (as in my parents are out of town, can I stay with you for five days).

It was time to break up (this was six weeks in). I had yet to kiss her (the hugging had become a terrible habit), and the peak of the relationship was some side boob I got when she fell into my arms while roller skating. It was a Friday when I decided I would break up with her, but I would only do it face to face, so that meant waiting until I saw her Monday at school. I couldn’t stand to talk to her and pretend everything was okay, so I stopped answering her calls (smooth). She called somewhere in the ballpark of 25 times over the weekend, and this was on a home phone, since I refused to own a cell phone (in case the beard wasn’t enough of a deterrent). After weathering that storm, I met her in the lunch room (naturally) on Monday morning. It turns out that breaking up is one thing that I can do with aplomb. I laid down how I felt and what I wanted and stayed firm. I also finally took the opportunity to check out her missing tooth that she had from when a horse kicker her (it was behind the Canine so you had to look for it).

I found out after we broke up that she was bisexual, so if I was the kind of guy who was into threesomes I might feel like I had missed out (I always thought that she was joking when she said she would go gay for Hilary Duff). She was also a cheerleader (which was uncool at my school), so I can say that I dated a bisexual cheerleader in high school, which sounds fairly interesting out of context. All told, I ended up with some good experience, and she was actually a very nice girl even if this story is biased against her.

I think Hilary Duff and I look pretty similar actually

Next post will tell the tale of the rest of my high school tomfoolery.

My History with Women - Part One (A Pattern Forms)

This is the comprehensive history or all my romantic interactions with the opposite sex. I will tell you right now that things don’t really go well, but I would rather receive laughter than concern about it. I built this house and I have to live in it, and to be honest I am actually still proud of it (this sort of failure doesn't come easy). The names have been left out to save these poor girls any more embarrassment from being associated with me.

                We will start from the beginning. In Kindergarten and the next few years, my core group of friends was made up of two boys and two girls. My favorite of the two was a sweet little petite girl (this is likely why I am still attracted to petite girls to this day). The only real activities that I can remember are recess soccer, chicken fighting, and pee wee baseball. She wasn’t really athletic or anything, but she was always cheerful, and that just made her fun to be around. Sadly she switched elementary schools in 3^rd grade, and we lost touch after that.

Your looking at the catcher for the Eagles, Pee Wee Champions

                 The first time I was ever asked out was at some point in second grade. A third grade girl asked me if I wanted to be her boyfriend during recess one day. This was done with the classic method of a note and circling yes or no. I may have missing a lot of romantic experiences, but I totally got this one. I didn’t know this girl so I flipped out and declined her offer. I had an inexplicable girl phobia at this age that I am probably still dealing with the remnants of to this day. She seemed kind of odd anyway, so no regrets here.

                At another point during second grade a girl in my class asked me over to her house on what I will call a play date. I was skeptical because it didn’t sound like it would be very fun, but my mother though it was a good idea that I get some social experience with girls, so she rightfully and underappreciatedly pushed me into going. I can’t remember what we actually did, but I do remember finding it quite boring (Nintendo, Lego, and Capture the Flag were my main interests at the time). I also realized that she had quasi-romantic feelings for me so I broke that relationship like a karate master breaking boards. I was apparently attractive at that age.

The ladies love a bowl cut

                I also had an ambiguous relationship with a Russian girl in my class. She didn’t really talk much, but she did like tackle me and pull my pants down. I’m not exactly sure whether she was flirting with me or just bullying me. She scared the crap out of me either way.

                Fifth grade is when I became part of a real social structure. My group of boys happened to have a corresponding group of girls, so I had that going for me. The main interactions between the groups were prank exchanges, secret codes, and one sided basketball games, but there was also some coupling between the groups. I wasn’t the ladies’ man of the group (the farthest from it actually), but at least I had something to work with. Major events include a ski trip where one of the girls (the outgoing one) had a crush on me for what I only remember being that day. This basically meant that she followed me around all day and took every opportunity to fall on me that she could get. There was also a D.A.R.E. roller skating event (during which I played Kings Corners and never put on a pair of skates), during which my friends had the idea that we should all ask a girl out. I didn’t have any aspirations (at least that I was willing to admit), so my friends took it upon themselves to pick and ask a girl for me. They chose the “sporty one,” and to my chagrin, she said yes. I panicked and told her that I wasn’t actually interested (like a jerk), but that was technically my first girlfriend.

Here is me learning all the sweet skiing skills that I would later use to impress the chicks

                The girl that I had a crush on was the over achiever of the group. Interplay included her teasing me about always failing the preliminary spelling tests, and the one time she failed I passed, so I teased her ten times as hard. I gave her the nickname Skunky, because she had a wisp of light colored bangs in her dark hair (I had nicknames for all or the girls actually, but hers was the only one I ever really used). Other than that I tried to hide my feelings for her, since I believe that if you want to get a girl to like you, you should completely ignore her. This method continues not to work to this day.

                In sixth grade my family moved towns, undoing all of the zero progress I had made with the ladies (actually a clean slate might have been a more favorable position). I did start out with a bit of a reputation as a weird kid though, because I was new, came from a middle school (I had to go back to elementary school, which was LAME), and I wrote in cursive all the time. One memorable occurrence was when one girl started making out with everyone after her boyfriend moved to Australia (she promised to wait!), and I was rumored to be one of her make out victims. I wasn’t of course, but whenever questioned about it, I would never confirm or deny the rumor (not correcting peoples incorrect assumptions if it suits me is something I do from time to time, and I don’t know if it is lying or not). At another point that year, I was informed that the girl who read books every spare moment had a crush on me. I thought I was too good for her (I wasn’t), and never did anything about it. I also threw up at the Christmas Recital. That’s not really related to anything romantic, it was just a good memory.

                In Junior High, I really came into my own at sucking with women. I had my fair share of crushes and more than my share of making no moves. I did tease one girl that I liked by calling her albino (she was very fair hairs and skinned), but I got in trouble for it by a teacher so I stopped (the next year a teacher was calling her albino, so I think the social studies teachers had some sort of sinister joke stealing racket going on). I also teased a different girl I liked for not being as good with computers as me, and she told me I had a head shaped like a dinosaur egg, so that was fun. I wasn’t very popular in Junior High, in case you couldn’t guess. I remember some girls being really surprised that I was a starter on the football team once, because I was a pretty big nerd. One of my math teachers used to seat me next to only girls on purpose to try to help me out. I don’t think girls are attracted to guys who are good at math unfortunately.

On the last day of ninth grade I decided that it was finally time to make a move. My current crush was on the “Queen of the Nerds.” She was the undisputed hottest smart girl in our grade. I fell for her during an archery class in gym when she asked me to help her put on her arm bracer. It went a lot better than my last attempt to touch a girl (she asked me for a quarter, and I got so nervous that I dropped it short of her hand and then ran away), so I believed that I was in (I had no idea what league I was in). So, it was the last day and everyone was gathered in the lunch room signing yearbooks and what not. It was now or never, so I girded my loins... and had a friend ask her out for me (wow past me, just WOW). She declined obviously (she said she didn’t know me well enough, which isn’t surprising since I was afraid to speak to her), and thus ended Junior High.

                We will see you next time for the story or an actual girlfriend.

Dive Quest

                My new favorite summer hobby is spearfishing. It combines fishing and snorkeling, two activities that I enjoy, but it doesn’t just combine those activities but improves on them. It is better than normal fishing because I get fish to eat (in theory), but I get to see them, and interact with them in a way that is more similar to hunting than normal fishing. Spearfishing improves on snorkeling because I have a good reason to push my limits physically, and I get to carry weapons. Spearfishing is also just intrinsically bad ass all by itself. You don’t have to wear a shirt while you are doing it, and the end goal is to stab some smug fish right in the face (they think they’re so cool breathing water and not paying taxes). Catching fish while spearfishing is also called taking fish, which is stupendous. It is like some sort of sweet text adventure.

               

>inventory

               

You are carrying: swim fin x2, snorkel, mask, weight belt, diver down flag, diving knife, pole spear

>go west

You go west. There are submerged trees here. There are fish here.

>look fish

You see carp of various sizes all around you, a catfish laying on the bottom, two northern pike swimming in the trees, and one walleye ahead.

>take walleye

You use your pole spear to take the walleye.

Congratulation! You have completed Dive Quest!  You score 8.3 out of a possible 8.7 points!

                Spearfishing also allows me to entertain elaborate fantasies about meeting dive chicks who look good inwetsuits, and discovering lost U-boats filled with Nazi war-gold (I’m not sure which of those scenarios is more unlikely). Anyway, enough exposition, and onto the story of my first “successful” diving expedition (the quotes indicate skepticism).

                It was the 3^rd of July. There were light clouds in the sky, a light south wind, and temperatures in the high 90’s. I had been out diving about a half dozen times before, seeing a total of two walleye, without ever getting close to spearing something (I won’t kill anything that I won’t eat, which includes the carp and catfish that had been my only reachable targets so far). I went to my usual spot out at the end of the quasi peninsula between Cow and Spring Creeks, for people familiar with the Pierre area (a latitude and longitude of 44°33’23”N and 100°29’56”W, for people not familiar with the area, who are also map nerds). The spot featured nice sandy (aka some sand, some razor sharp gravel) beaches, and plenty or area to look for fish in, as long as I wasn’t being boxed out by the detestable boat fishermen. I was going to try a point that I hadn’t previously explored, but had seen some of the aforementioned boat fishermen at (seriously what is up with those guys?). My main goal was to perfect my diving technique using my new weight belt, and I wasn’t really expecting to see any walleye. The south side of the point was an insipid rocky ledge that held some hope of housing walleye, but planed off at too shallow a depth to be really viable. Visibility was excellent (for the area), and I could see at least 20 feet in the water. The only fish I saw were the always pervasive carp, and a few bass.

I had gone about 150 yards offshore and there was no real change in the ledge, or fish population, so I decided to check on the north side of the point. Crossing over the point I saw something interesting. Carp… scores of them. They were complete unafraid and swimming all around me. I counted coup on a few before it quickly lost its sense of achievement. They ranged in size from about 18 inches to over 30 (I literally measured a few of the fish with the 20 inch marker on my spear, so I am reasonably confident in this number). Carp are one of the ugliest fish in the sea, but it was still fun to be swimming among so many fish, and was enough to make my day. I wasn’t looking for carp though, I was looking for walleye, and I was feeling confident enough in my diving technique now that I thought I might actually be able to get close to one.

When I reached the other side of the point I saw a very promising sight… submerged trees. Small feeder fish gather in cover, and were the prey goes the predator follows (I read that on the internet, so it had to be true).  Carp still abounded in the area, but I couldn’t see around the bottoms of the cover very well, were the walleye were likely to be. I cocked my spear and flawlessly executed one of my new super stealth dives. I cruised along the base of the brush scanning for fish, and what should I see not six feet in front of me but a telltale white spotted tail. It was the wild and wily walleye!  It was swimming away from me, and I knew I would never win in a race, so time was of the essence. I suppressed the sudden urge to panic and extended my spear for face stabbing. At this point the walleye was about eight feet ahead, which is the outer limit of my range, so it was now or never. I aimed for his nose, released my spear, it shot forward, I felt it connect, and then… the walleye swam away. I was left with nothing but a glimpse of a wounded fish and a crushing feeling of disappointment.

One must know his prey

I was also overcome by an unfathomable bloodlust. Blood was in the water, and now I had to kill something. The first thing I saw that was even remotely edibly appealing was a northern pike (appealing through the red mist at least). The pike let me swim right up to it, and due to my earlier failure I decided to adjust my aim this time, and aimed just in front of the fish. I released, and the spear shot straight in front of the pike’s nose, true to its aim. The fish never so much as flinched. It was beginning to dawn on me how ridiculous I was behaving, but the bloodlust, unfathomable as it was, remained unsatiated. I soon spotted another northern, and it being the stereotypical cocky apex predator, I was able to get within close range. He looked to be nearly 30 inches long, which is a respectable enough size. Now understanding the stoic nature of these slimy bastards, I aimed for the gills. I smote him with a solid blow, but failed the full skewer. The pike floated away, exhibited a strange vibrating death spasm, and sank to the bottom. I had to surface due to a regrettable need for oxygen, but quickly dived again to claim my kill. I now took the opportunity to crudely measure my trophy fish with a twenty inch mark I had placed on my pole spear. To my chagrin, the fish barely cleared twenty inches, and was fairly skinny to boot. Fun Science Fact: Due to the refraction of light between air and water mediums (like that found in a snorkel mask), all objects appear 30% large underwater. I was tempted at this point to abandon my catch. I didn't really want to eat a northern this small, and I really didn't want to clean one, but I had promised myself earlier to eat everything that I killed, so I kept it.

I had apparently acquired a karmic burden for the unnecessary killing of this fish, and the rest of the day did not go well. I got the line to my diver flag tangle in the trees multiple times, fishing line wrapped around my feet and pulled the dive knife off of my leg the one time that I needed it (I blame boat fishermen, I mean come on guys), and my right trigger finger had lost all feeling due to the action of cocking and shooting my spear repeatedly (it has been almost 48 hours and it is still not back to normal). I only saw one more walleye at a distance and soon decided to call it a day since now I needed to clean this fish. The shore was where the worst of my new troubles assaulted me. Wind is good for two things, keeping you cool on a hot day, and keeping flies down. It wasn't windy. An impromptu orgy of flies had started on my gear bag while I was away, but there was no hesitation in moving the location to all my exposed skin when I arrived. I packed up as fast as I could and began the quarter mile walk back to my truck, as my composure quickly crumbled. My only defense was walking like epileptic an riverdancer, and shouting expletives (the expletives didn’t actually scare flies away, but they made me feel better). By the time I reached my truck I was within a hairs-breath of losing my sanity, and had nearly repaid my karma dept. Still, once in the truck I found that my favorite radio station had switched from 80’s and 90’s hits to country, and my last trial was trying to clean my fish. I’m not very good at cleaning fish, and a northern is a really sucky fish to clean, especially when they are small. Luckily I had a fairly dull fillet knife to help… make it suck even harder. This is everything that I ended up with.

Mmm, fish sandwich

Even if most of that story sounds like complaining I still had fun, and consider the day a success. I might have killed a walleye (walleye are known for being able to swim for minutes after death… in my head), I saw a lot of fish, and I got a pretty good sandwich out of it. I should probably get some gloves before next trip though, so my finger doesn't fall off.

TLDR: I suck at spearfishing.