In this journal entry: the link between a clogged marine toilet and an existential crisis, pursuing stuff you’re not good at, and being just a tad delusional.
Existential crisis, my old friend
Existential crisis, my old friend, we meet again. To me, it seems as if my life has been one long, absurd episode of “Who Wants to Be a Restless Wanderer?”
I’ve shed skin and changed shit up more times than what’s probably healthy for the human mind because the probing question of what the f**k are you doing with your life, Sara, has kept clawing on the inside of my skull.
I’ve had countless shitty jobs, roamed more countries than I can count, and heard myself utter the words “sure, let’s do it,” to every odd opportunity thrown my way because God forbid, I missed out on anything.
So, here I am now, battling a clogged marine toilet, wondering what I’m doing and how I ended up here.

Press: Rewind
After being in Denmark for almost two years, working on two different radio shows while speaking the news and being a quiz host, something happened. Or maybe it was the opposite. Nothing happened, so I had to make something happen.
I was tired of sitting in front of a computer screen, getting flat buttocks in an office chair, feeling my skin grow grayer by the day. I wanted to be active, use my hands more and my head less, fix shit, learn stuff.
You should learn how to sail, said my mind one day, what a brilliant idea mate, I responded.
A week later, I’d signed up for a sailing course to get a certificate of competence, which is basically the first level of education for a hobby sailor. 4 weeks later, I’d secured myself a job as mate/social-media-lady onboard a sailboat in French Polynesia. 3 months later, I sat on a flight on my way to go live on the other side of the globe.
I could lay my existential crisis to rest for a minute. The disruption of my life was once again complete.
Press: Fast-forward
F**k, f**k, f**k, I cannot do this, I think to myself, as I glance at my right hand that is now red, swollen and slightly burned.
The skin on my face is as greasy as a McDonald’s worker, my t-shirt is drenched in sweat, and it feels like my insides have reached boiling temperature.
Incomprehensible noises escape my mouth as I struggle to free the pipe, now warm from the heating gun, with wiggles and a wag and forceful drags.
Every two minutes, I rest my head on the door of the toilet cabinet as I try to compose myself. I want to cry and scream and give up.

Remember you asked for this
It’s always funny when you realize you’ve gotten exactly what you wished for, only to now realize that you were out of your mind when you made that wish.
I thought I wanted to use my hands more, I thought I wanted to learn how to fix stuff, but here I am, almost crying over a clogged marine toilet, my hands blooming with blisters, and I am silently cursing my degree in journalism. When did I ever think I could do this shit?
It’s always funny when you realize you’ve gotten exactly what you wished for, only to now realize that you were out of your mind when you made that wish.
Sara fondo
“Yaaassssssss!” I exclaim as I finally free the pipe. I tilt my head back, looking up into the ceiling as if thanking some higher power, and make a deep exhale.
From blockage to breakthrough
My coworker helps me pull the bad boy all the way out, and we bring it to the stern of the boat. We then smash a rubber hammer on the outside of the pipe in the hope of freeing whatever is stuck to the inside.
At first, when we use the hose to try to make water run through the pipe, nothing happens. Just give it a minute. I couldn’t have predicted what happened next.
An explosion of gray looking rocks bursts through the pipe, our eyes widening with a mix of awe and disgust as a small mountain takes form in front of us; when salt water mixes with urine, the ammonia in urine reacts with calcium in seawater and this creates calcium chloride deposits – or urine-rocks as we call it.

Reflections of a reluctant handyman
As I wiggle the pipe back on, hoping to have a functioning toilet once again, I find myself contemplating today’s work. I’ve used a heating gun for the first time. I have a better understanding of water inlet and outlets. I somewhat know which handles to close and open and what to tighten to not sink the boat.
But goddammit it, I’m no handy woman. I’m just stubborn as hell. So why do I keep trying to pursue things that don’t come naturally to me?
Maybe because nothing ever has.
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