I’m not afraid to admit it: the ocean scares me. I know that, for the most part, it’s an irrational fear, created out of a childhood of JAWS-induced nightmares. I just don’t like going in the ocean, and I’ll do everything in my power to not to wade past my knees. Unless, of course, there’s a group of children or a rather good looking girl going in the water. Then, and only then, will I comply and follow lead into the salty bad dream, so that I don’t appear to be the complete and total wuss that I am.
It’s seeing pictures like the one above that absolutely do not help to fight my fear of the ocean. Well, I suppose it’s not a fear of the ocean itself — (pool) water does not bother me. It’s what lives inside that counts. Sharks, jellyfish, sting rays, barracuda, whatever — they’re all disgusting, vile creatures better suited for consumption, or peering at through a thick sheet of glass, than swimming amongst.