Tomorrow is World Oceans Day. Today I am eating apricots. These small, pastel orange fruits always remind me of warm evenings at the beach. And, I’m not quite sure why (although I assume some higher level organic chemistry is involved), but the delightful taste produced when the sweetness of their flesh mixes with the saltiness of the air seems to provide me with the best circumstances for contemplating life. But, while one would probably assume that my current thoughts are organizing themselves into an exciting post in honour of this special day, the truth is, they’re not. Because I don’t really know what to say. Of course this dilemma is not for lack of want, or knowledge of the subject matter; it is because—for the first time in my life—I am trying to decide how I feel about the ocean. Well, not the ocean itself. More specifically, the future of the ocean. And how young fisheries scientists, like myself, fit in.
Last week I read Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. OK, I’m exaggerating a bit. Last Wednesday, between 3:37 and 6:58 a.m., I read Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. I couldn’t sleep. And since doing laundry at this time would probably have incurred the wrath of my fellow tenants (rightly so), I chose instead to make myself some tea (Crème Caramel de David), and hunker down with Hux.
On second thought, maybe it wasn’t actually this serene and cozy. Upon reflection, it was actually more akin to a contemporary (and slightly feminine) version of Jekyll and Hyde. It went something like this:
11:06 – good job Laurenne, you’re in bed before midnight. You’re being so proactive about improving your sleep habits. Well done; you’re awesome; gold star.
11:44 – OK, why aren’t you asleep yet?
11:56 – does my dresser really have those weird grooves in it? What an odd pattern. I could design furniture. No you couldn’t, shut up.
12:08 – hmm, I am definitely not tired. It’s really raining hard outside. Did I leave my umbrella on campus again? I should get a spare. I wonder who invented the umbrella. Who cares, go to sleep.