America's Castle Article Published on ForbesTraveler.com

During my East Coast odyssey of '08, I spent a few weeks researching America's castles, many of which are located in the Northeast, particularly Newport, Rhode Island, and New York's Hudson River Valley and Long Island. The article is finally live on ForbesTraveler.com:
http://www.forbestraveler.com/luxury/americas-castles-story.html?partner=rss

While in Newport to dig a little deeper into the history of Belcourt Castle, I also happened to be on deadline for another assignment. Instead of rushing back to my hotel to use the lobby Wi-Fi, I was fortunate enough to hang out in the castle a little longer, flanked by two suits of armor. It was definitely one or my more unique writing locations.

I'd still love to visit Wing's Castle and Coral Castle, since they're both such oddballs, as well as check out OHEKA, which I'm sure has changed greatly since my sister got married there a thousand years ago.

That Aussie Dream Job Is Mine, All Mine!

You know you're a perfect candidate for a job when not two, but five people send you a link to it within 24 hours. That's what happened this week when several of my friends forwarded me a link to the Best Job in the World, Caretaker of the Islands of the Great Barrier Reef.

I've had an infatuation with Australia since I did a report on the country Down Under in sixth grade. During junior high, I had the Australian flag hanging in my locker and a map of the country on my bedroom wall, which I studied on a regular basis, memorizing the capitals, states and territories as if I would be quizzed.

Somehow, I've made it to every other inhabited continent on the planet but not Australia. This is a situation that needs to be rectified ASAP -- and this gig would be the perfect way to do it. Who else is better qualified to test dive gear, monitor aquatic life, blog about the reef's goings-on, and answer questions to incoming tourists?

I'm sending in my application this month. If anyone knows someone on the selection committee that I can bribe, please let me know.

New Column for Examiner.com

It's been a while since I've blogged -- on my own website, at least. I've been so busy ghostwriting, web consulting, writing Wikipedia entries, and teaching high school (yes, you read that correctly) that I've let my poor beloved blog sit idle for far too long.

However, should I once again begin to slack and the urge to read my prose become too strong, feel free to check out my new column on Examiner.com:
Southern California Travel Examiner

I only have a few posts up so far, but now that I'm getting my schedule under control, I'll be going to bed before 4AM and will have more time (and energy) to write here. I may even get another chapter of my book done before the end of the month. (Stop laughing.)

New Website Design

Behold, the new website! I got tired of looking at my old website design, so I've updated the look to be more a little more travel themed and classic. Take a look around. You'll notice that I've also added more services, including web consulting, which seems to be the fastest-growing part of my nascent freelance business.

The backend code is a little more SEO-friendly, and I've added new site features such as a search box on every page. Overall, I just like the new feel of the site -- seems cleaner and more "me." I'd love your comments on the new design!

www.jennarobbins.com

Blog redesign coming soon....

"Desert Romance" Article Published in Exquisite Weddings

It's live! My travel piece on Southwest wedding destinations in Exquisite Weddings has hit the stands. This was my first piece for the publication, and it's quite an impressive glossy.

Introducing Your Teacher, Jenna Rose Robbins

Yes, it's true. I will be heading up a class for Media Bistro. Stop laughing. It's all fer reals! Who better than me -- er, I -- to teach a class on writing and editing for the web? Seriously, stop the sniggering! Here's the proof:
http://www.mediabistro.com/courses/cache/crs4128.asp

(Click to view screencapture of class listing, included as proof for after class is over and link has expired and family has denied this ever happened.)

Featured Correspondent for AdventureUs.com

You may have noticed a purdy new badge on my site, the one announcing that I'm now a Featured Correspondent for AdventureUs.com. What does this mean? For one, it means I should get my tuchis in gear and start blogging more, as I'm already backlogged with travel tales -- from driving with the fluffy children from sea to shining sea, to a weekend camping adventure where the original Friday the 13th was filmed -- and I have several more excursions planned for the summer, all of which I plan to post to both AdventureUs.com and this here site.

What you can look forward to:

• Visiting the Semester at Sea ship on its first trip to NYC since 1972, during which we'll celebrate the study-abroad program's 45th anniversary
  
• Trekking to Montreal with the twiblings (the twin niblings), where we'll fly on trapeze and tackle arboreal rope courses
  
• Best-kept secrets of Pennsylvania (still discovering a few myself)
  
• Day-to-day adventures of a reformed New Yorker who still finds it hard to get some of the Cali out of her system, and doesn't, like, totally want to
  

I'm going to try to blog at least three times a week, and by putting that in writing, I'm expecting someone to hold me to it.

Reasons Not to Be a Travel Writer

Establishing a lucrative career as a writer is hard enough. Take a crack at travel writing and you might as well call that refrigerator box on the corner your "condo." This is the main reason I've never gone freelance full time. (The runner-up reason is that the querying process is as unforgiving and demoralizing as being a personal assistant at a movie studio, which pays even less.) Thus, I prefer to spend the majority of my time on the editorial side, where the paychecks are steadier and I don't have to grovel for my next gig. That said, I'm sure the view of a full-time travel writer is far more picturesque than that of the gray walls of my cube.

If you've got the stamina, passion, and cojones, by all means, follow your dream of being a travel writer. But before you begin dreaming of comped trips to Tahiti and widely praised articles about your sojourn to an Israeli commune, heed this advice from travel-writer extraordinaire Tim Leffel:

The Seven Myths of Being a Travel Writer

First Irony, Now Travel Writing Kicks the Bucket

When irony died a premature death, thanks to the events of 9/11, I wasn't terribly upset. I actually hoped its passing would spell the end of cooler-than-thou t-shirt slogans that every hipster from Silverlake to Williamsburg wore as a de rigeur part of their wardrobe. Eh-eh. Instead, irony seems to have gone into a coma, not quite dead but not entirely certain the world is ready for the announcement that it's still alive and kicking. I got over it.

But when I read that some bloke named Chuck Thompson (never trust a guy who willingly goes by "Chuck") thinks that today's travel writers amount to little more than a class of uninspired hacks, I was peeved -- and a might bit baffled. Does this guy not read National Geographic Adventure or Outside? Has he not heard of Tim Cahill, Pico Iyer? Sure, there are more than enough travel-industry stoolies who'll write a glowing review of any dump that throws them a comp, but isn't toadyism part of any industry?

I haven't yet read Chuck's opus, Smile When You're Lying: Confessions of a Rogue Travel Writer, but based on the pieces I have scanned, I have no need to. The first one I plucked out on Amazon began -- I kid you not:

Watching the Penis Olympics didn't make me feel much like the "foreign ambassador" the JET orientation had prepared me to be. Worse, the pressure on me to participate was fierce. A lupine excitement gripped the room at the possibility of seeing a Caucasian penis in the engorged flesh, but the assumption that I was packing a gigantic wad, flattering to be sure, was also intimidating.

And two Surprise Me! clicks later:

Temples, not tits, filled my Thai checklist.

Pure poetry, Chuck.

If travel writing has passed its peak, Chuck sure ain't helping prep for its comeback tour with frat-boy prose like that. So who is he to pass judgment on the rest of the travel-writing community, especially when the fluff pieces he so despises are usually taken by well-meaning writers just to pay the bills in between more important writing gigs?

Senor Chuck does, however, make some valid points, including several that brought back stinging memories of a not-so-long-ago gig. Says Rolf Potts, in his review of Chuck's book [emboldened words hold special meaning for yours truly]:

Thompson proceeds with an accurate roundup of the elements that conspire to create bad travel writing: throw-away words like "hip," "happening," "sun-drenched," "undiscovered," and "magical"; imperative language that urges the reader to "do" this, "eat" that, "go" here; stories that depict tourism workers (taxi drivers, hotel clerks, bartenders) as "local color"; the fake narrative "raisons d’etre writers invent to justify their travels"; the untraveled writers and editors who assemble authoritative-sounding travel "roundups" from Internet research; the conflicts of interest that arise when writers fund their travels with industry-subsidized "comps"; publications running what is essentially the same story over and over again, never questioning stereotype assumptions about certain parts of the world.

All genres have their low-brow and their high. Travel writing is no different. To lump the commercial in with the literary is like comparing Knocked Up to North by Northwest. Kudos to Potts for taking Chuck down a notch.

More Kudos for "Great Whites of Isla Guadalupe"

Just got back from my trip to the Big Island (sans Big Sis -- photos and journal to come) to find a welcome surprise waiting in my mail box. Seems that my article on diving with great whites received an Honorable Mention for feature article in the 2007 Writer's Digest contest. Results haven't been posted online just yet, but I'm pretty sure they'll be available here when they are.

Considering how heartbroken I was to leave Hawaii behind, this news definitely made the transition back to everyday life much more bearable. Now, off to plan the next trip!

Note: "Great White of Guadalupe" was originally published on AOL Travel, but since AOL is inanely removing all of its content -- nice SEO move -- my article no longer lives there. Thus, I'm now pointing to TravelExplorations.com.

RIP, Mel Shavelson

I only had Mel Shavelson for one grad school class, one so crammed with other students that I'm sure he never realized whether or not I was there. But I liked the guy. He had a passion about his work. His love of teaching was evident, and even he must have known that he could tend to drone, because he often punctuated his pre-written introductions of guest speakers with hidden barbs and sly one-liners.

Mel, you will be missed.

Read: USC announcement of his passing

Never Heard of the San Juans? Pshaw.

It's been roughly four years since I read an article in National Geographic Adventure about the San Juan Islands, and the image the article painted for me was nothing like reality. Looking back, I don't know how I could have imagined such a darkly romantic locale existing in the real world; my imagination had conjured up some otherworldly realm that exists only in mid-century adventure serials, something akin to the Skull Island of the recent King Kong remake, only less violent and more bucolic. Oh, and without prehistoric vermin. Okay, very little like Skull Island, except in terms of cinematography and foliage.

During my short long weekend, I learned that the 700 islands of the San Juan archipelago have only one incorporated town, that being Friday Harbor, which also serves as the county seat. In just over 48 hours, I spotted at least six bald eagles, including one eaglet hopping about his aerie just outside the visitors center near the American Camp. I also learned that crime is such a rarity in the islands that few of the residents I met ever locked their doors; at least one claimed to not even own a set of keys to his residence.

Day 1: Escape From "Civilization"
Day 2: Water, Water Everywhere
Day 3: Farewell, Friday Harbor

Shark Article Gets New Life

Thanks to a certain shark-obsessed pal o' mine (no, I'm not referring to myself), my Isla Guadalupe has been cropping up on websites all around the web. In case you missed it the first go-round, read it now at one of the following:

Travel Explorations

RealTravel

IgoUgo

BootsnAll

Are We Dropping the Ball? Dave Winfield Thinks So

Last year, I had the opportunity to help edit Dave Winfield's book Dropping the Ball: Baseball's Troubles and How We Can and Must Solve Them, which is now out in print.

I've never been a sports nut, but if I had to pick a sport to get behind, it would be baseball, if only because it was the one sport that resonated in me for most of my childhood. I understood it, unlike football. I could play it, or at least its female counterpart, softball. And I could appreciate its long, storied tradition in American history. When baseball's popularity began to wane and basketball became the trendy sport du jour, I lamented the decline of legacy, which was replaced by marketing and celebrity.

So when I had the opportunity to work on a project by one of baseball's greats, I jumped at the chance, and was pleased to see that some of my layman's views fell into line with Winfield's own. Although I don't think that much can be done about the commercialism of sports as a whole, I do agree with his major points about the benefits of sports for kids, and that what the sports world in general needs is a good kick in the pants to unseat it from its pedestal of celebrity and return it to a level playing field for all fans.

It's a good, fun read. And I'm saying that not just because I had a slight hand in the book, but because I had such an enjoyable time working on it.

Au Revoir, AOL CityGuide (aka AOL Local, Digitalcity, etc.)

We all could sense the ship taking on water even as early as last year. One by one, the employees departed, and their empty cubes (valued at about $10k a pop) remained ominously unfilled.

Then last week, the iceberg hit. I broke the news to a colleague, who was on vacation at the time and who had called me to boast he had an interview lined up elsewhere for the next morning. "Good," I told him, "because tomorrow you'll be unemployed." So much for breaking the news softly.

I could expound on this subject for hours -- and, in fact, I have -- but I'll refrain here since my name is clearly on the page, and I'm not in the mood these days for subpoenas and libel charges.

To sum it up, my friends and former co-workers are now out of work, but at least they have a decent severance package.

What I find most amusing is the dearth of news on the subject. Local is only getting bigger in the Internet business, and the demise of one of its most prominent players has warranted nary a news inquiry. The only article of note to be found was a poorly researched bit that reads more like a PR cover-up than actual reporting.

Although I haven't worked at AOL for several months (I'm quite happy at my current job, thank you), the news still saddens me. Even though we could all clearly see the glint of the iceberg in the distance, we all refused to believe it would hit. I can't think of a single person I worked with who didn't enjoy the content they worked on. Even when management and morale were at their lowest, we steamed ahead, commisserating among ourselves in steerage and having a helluva lot more fun.

Now all our hard, "evergreen" work will flounder. It'll stagnate, but users will still be able to find it. Long after your favorite neighborhood bistro has shut down, you'll be able to find the listing alive and well on CityGuide, like an ant preserved in amber, with some poor freelancer's name attached to this ancient piece of Internet detritus and no sympathetic editor to help remove the shame from the database.

And so, as the guard rails sink below the icy surface, I bid a final adieu to the "granddaddy of local guides." Perhaps if the company had paid a little less on cubes and a little more on foresight, we'd still be enjoying the journey. Instead, enjoy this final news retrospective (don't miss #5, a long-time in-house favorite).

Rave Review for the Nascent Digital City (August 1997)

Digital City Becomes AOL Local (June 2002)

AOL CityGuide closes San Jose office (July 2003)

Austin Freelance Job Posting With Mark Gozonsky (!) as Contact (2003)

Elegy for a Temp Job (May 2004 -- My personal fave. Don't miss the part about the jheri-curl mullet.)

Blogger Mourning the Loss of Digitalcity (scroll down) (January 2007)

http://www.infoworld.com/article/07/03/13/HNaollocalsearch_1.html (March 2007)

I realize this post interests only a handful of people, most of whom lived the above events, but I wanted to put it in writing. For posterity, people.

Atom XML Feed Fixed

Atom feed and link to adding to My Yahoo! now work. Rejoice.

The Atom link had been killing me for some time. I just couldn't figure out why I was getting an error message every time I tried to subscribe to my own blog. Finally, I had to resort to asking for help (thank you again, Todd), which I try not to do, if only because I enjoy figuring things out on my own. Same reason I own a power drill: I love figuring out Ikea's wordless instructions and putting together some monstrosity of a bookcase for five hours. It's fun. Really. I'll come put yours together, if you like. All I ask in return is a cold beer. Or three.

Subscribe now, dammit!

The Shark FAQ, aka You Like Me, You Really Like Me!

Alas, I've yet to make an Oscar speech, but I had my own version of glory today when my shark article made it to the AOL Welcome Screen (once the "most valuable piece of Internet real estate," as the Mother Ship told us drones, but I doubt it is any longer). When my Oahu shark article was published in the Seattle PI back in October, I receive a handful of kudos from fellow shark-ophiles and divers. But in the space of the last few hours, I've received several dozen emails from readers who happened upon the story of my Isla Guadalupe adventure, some of which have even made me blush. The responses have inspired me to write even more so than when I handed in my bound thesis last May.

To those of you who wrote, thank you. It really meant a lot to hear your kind words and to share your shark-encounter tales and fantasies. I'll answer some of the FAQs here, short answers first:

Q. How can I go on this trip?

A. Call Patric Douglas, the CEO of Shark Diver. Tell him you're my pal and he'll treat you all nice-like. Heck, he'll treat you well even if you're not my pal. He's just that kind of guy.

Q. How long does a trip like [the one you wrote about on AOL] take?

A. It was a five-day trip -- roughly 14 hours to the island and back, then three full days off the coast of Isla Guadalupe, where we were anchored most of the time. We never went ashore, even though it was a shell's throw away.

Q. How much does it cost?

A. You can get the 411 on the Shark Diver site. Yes, it's more expensive than a one-day trip to the Farallons, but the visibility is better, the water's warmer, and the camaraderie of a live-aboard can't be beat. Meals (and alcohol!) are included, and the galley crew served some mighty good grub. (They even catered to my vegetarian needs and exceeded expectations.) Oh, and it's the trip of a lifetime, so charge that card and don't give it a second thought.

Q. Do you need a special certification for this trip?

A. Even non-certs can go. It's not tank diving, but rather hookah diving -- you breathe through a hose that goes up to the boat -- and you're never more than 15 feet deep. The hookah apparatus means you don't have to carry all that gear on your back, making it easier to maneuver in the cage.

Q. Was Isla Guadalupe really better than the Farallons [off San Francisco]?

A. I've never been to the Farallons, so I can't give a truly informed answer. However, there was at least one diver on my IG trip who had been there and he raved about the conditions of Guadalupe: warmer water, better viz, and -- most importantly -- more sharks. If you're interested in a good read about the Farallons, check out The Devil's Teeth, Susan Casey's beautifully written account of her time on these desolate islands. (Among other chestnuts, Casey drops amid her prose such mind-boggling nuggets as the fact that sharks are older than trees. Trees, dammit.) I took the book with me on this trip, and when I wasn't under water, I was usually holed up in my bunk with my nose buried deep in its musty pages.

Q. How do I become a freelance writer?

A. Good question. I'm still trying to figure that one out myself. I'm actually a freelance and full-time editor, but my love of writing has me constantly on the lookout for other outlets. If you really want some quick advice, here it goes: Come up with a killer idea. Query a publication. Get rejected. Find another publication. Get rejected again. Come up with a better killer idea. Query again. Take up papier-mache as a hobby to recycle all your rejection letters. Query again. Just don't stop trying. Some people will get your writing, while others... well, some people just don't have taste, do they?

Honestly, I don't think I could be a full-time freelancer. I just don't have the patience for querying. But as a side job, it's quite fulfilling, especially since I can focus on the writing and not where my next paycheck will come from. I know plenty of people with the stamina for full-time freelancing; I'm just not one of them.

Q. Weren't you scared? Or do you just have a death wish?

A. When I was younger, I was a tad more daring. Now that I'm older, my invincibility has a few chinks in the armor, so I'm much more cautious than I was in my salad days. I haven't jumped off a cliff in many a year, and I have no desire to relive my ambush in 'Nam (true story), but I'm still up for some adrenaline-inducing action quite often.

At Guadalupe, I was one of the first in the cage -- partly because I was excited, but mainly because I was green with seasickness after our overnight crossing and I knew the cool water would ease my pain. We didn't see any sharks on that first dive, possibly because I scared them away when I chummed up the water. Yes, your dive instructor wasn't lying when s/he said you can vomit in your regulator with no problem. (Thank you, Patric, for erasing that bit of footage.)

When the sharks were around I was too in awe to be scared. When you know your time with them is finite, you don't want to waste a second shrinking into the corner of the cage. I don't remember anyone chickening out at the last minute. In fact, we were usually fighting for rotation spots. Sharks are fantastic creatures, and seeing them up close only makes you appreciate them more.

Q. What was your first trip with sharks?

A. My first underwater encounter was roughly six years ago during a night dive in Turks and Caicos. I'd gone for a little R&R and was talked into taking the Advanced Open Water PADI certification by several other diehard divers at the Club Med where I had holed up for a week. Little did I know that the advanced course required a night dive, something I'd never imagined I'd do. I'd been afraid of dark water ever since my brother threw me into our pool on a pitch black night after telling me that the bottom opened up to the ocean after the sun went down. (Yes, for those who've heard the tales, this is the same brother who handcuffed me to a coffee table. I have only one. Thankfully.)

But I didn't mention my fear to my diving classmates, and when I jumped into the water that night, a glowstick affixed to my tank, I was certain I'd never surface again. Once I was under, however, with the pod of divers glowing like underwater stars around me, I lost all fear. I became mesmerized by the celestial lights of their own neon glows, caused by their own glowsticks and the bioluminescent organisms swirling in the Caribbean waters.

I did the prerequisite course requirements -- underwater orientation and the like -- then followed my instructor as he led us through a coral maze. It was there that he spotted what I believe was a five-foot nurse shark resting on the sandy bottom. When his flashlight beam hit the shark's face, it took off, heading straight towards me. I froze. But a foot before it reached me, it careened to the side, and its graceful sway made me forget my fear, so much so that I reached out and let my fingers trail along the last few inches of its body. If I'd had an endless supply of air that night, I might never have been coaxed back on the boat.

Q. So, you've done great whites. What could possibly be next?

Q. Oh, there's so very, very much more. As much as I loved my great white dive, my long-time dream has been to swim in the open with either a whale or a whale shark. Ever since I saw one of the latter at the Osaka aquarium 12 years ago, I've wanted to swim alongside something as large as a school bus and as docile as kitten. (Yes, I know there are dangers involved. I've just known some very aggressive kittens.) Patric's company also offers a trip with giant squid (I don't have enough dives under my belt for that yet, dagnabbit) and a deep-sub adventure to see six-gill sharks at 1,700 feet below the surface. Crikey! Oh, and there are a slew of land-based adventures on my check list, including a helicopter ride over a live volcano, which I'm planning for the fall.

Q. Do you have any more photos?

A. Hell, yeah! That wasn't even mine on AOL. Don't know why they didn't use my pics or video. This one is a shot of Patric holding the severed tuna I'd mentioned in the article, with Melanie behind him. For more pics, try this link, although it doesn't always work: Shark Album. For video, check out my stuff on YouTube. I'll post more if there's any interest.


Well, it's past my bedtime on a school night. Must go... procrastinate more.

The End of an Error

It's official. I gave notice at AOL last week to accept a position at Disney Internet Group, a place that -- as far as I could tell from the scant time I was there interviewing -- seems far more together than the CityGuide department where I've toiled away for the last 6+ years. I've thoroughly enjoyed my time at CityGuide (formerly Digital City), but the place has been on a downward slide for some time now. Anyone who looks at the staffing numbers can see that.

I'll continue to work at expanding my freelance career, not because I want to supplement my income, but because I actually enjoy writing about music, travel, et al. At Disney, I'll be helping to relaunch an entire new site for a major corporation -- a dream opportunity for any creative professional. Who would pass that up? I'll refrain from elaboration (on either company). These corporate folks Google this crap all the time. But anyone who knows me well enough knows that I wouldn't make a jump like this lightly -- especially when it means cutting my vacation time in half.

Be psyched for me. Seriously.

Getting Chummy (follow-up)

First thing I've learned: Keeping track of two blogs ain't fun. So I'm going to consolidate to just this one. I'll still update MySpace with a line or two, then link off to this one, which will act as my main blog.

As a followup to my entry about chumming for sharks the other day, I wanted to post the comment from the Divester writer who sparked the original item I found on Divester. You can read his original post on my MySpace blog (Nov. 25), or right here:

Hi, Jenna. My name is Willy Volk, and I wrote the piece on Divester to which you refer. First, let me say that I enjoyed your trip report, and I'm glad you had the opportunity to share the beauty of sharks with the rest of us. However...

Chumming for sharks is irresponsible, and Jimmy -- as knowledgable as he is about sharks and their behavior -- knows this.

Although some degree of conditioning can occur between sharks and cage diving boats, this happens when operators do not comply with regulations and allow sharks to feed on bait (http://www.divester.com/2006/09/27/finding-a-balance-how-sharks-and-beachgoers-can-live-together/). I don't believe that sharks learn to associate chum with humans (and, as a result, acquire a taste for people). However, it is commonly accepted that chumming the water alters sharks' behavior and attracts them to shore -- where they face increased dangers, through fishing, and may inadvertantly attack a person (http://www.divester.com/2006/10/05/oahu-to-limit-shark-tours/). Consequently, the fact that "Jimmy was more than three miles offshore" really has no bearing on the situation. He's altering their behavior. And anyway: how long does it take for a shark to swim 3 miles?

Moreover, it amazes me that people would recoil in horror at the thought of dragging a kudu through the African bush to attract a lion, but they don't have a problem with chumming the water to attract sharks. What's the difference?

"Jimmy had mentioned how several of his competitors do it as well": Unfortunately, the fact that Jimmy and his competitors all chum for fish does not make it right.

"I don't believe he felt what he was doing was illegal": I'll bet most commercial fishermen -- and many drug dealers, for that matter -- don't feel what they're doing is illegal.

I don't have a problem with Hall taking people out to see sharks: exposure to these wonderful animals is the best way for peope to overcome their fears and understand their importance in the ecosystem. For that, I commend Hall. However, when Hall expressly denies chumming the water (http://www.hawaiisharkencounters.com/faq.asp), even though you clearly witnessed it, it makes me wonder: Why deny it, Jimmy, if it's so harmless?

Comments?

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Just yesterday I was explaining to my technically challenged mother the importance of Googling your name every few weeks. In the past, I've discovered there's a runaway and a porn star (possibly the same person) who share my first and last name, which is one reason I'd decided to add my middle name to my byline, for the sake of clarification.

So I was shocked when, Googling my full byline name just a few minutes ago, I came across a listing entitled:

Stories Tagged 'illegal' » Netscape.com

(full story)

...which goes on to detail how my recent article in the Seattle P-I inadvertently exposed Jimmy Hall and his Hawaii Shark Encounters outfit for illegally feeding sharks. When I wrote the article a little over a month ago about the trip I took in January 2006, I had no clue that this was an illegal activity, especially since Jimmy had mentioned how several of his competitors do it as well.

Follow-ups to the story counter the allegations, stating that since Jimmy was more than three miles offshore (as I can attest to), he was no longer in Hawaiian waters and therefore was not committing illegal activity. But as one commentor notes, this is also up for debate, as Hawaii claims jurisdiction to the channels between islands, even though the state has never defended this position in federal court.

I'm not a lawyer, so I can't say if Jimmy is guilty. I will say that he showed a great deal of respect for the sharks and that I found no fault with his operation. I felt perfectly safe the entire time and admired Jimmy's obvious love of the sea and its inhabitants. And after seeing the video of him outside of the cage with an 18-foot great white, I can say he truly love these creatures, even if he's a bit of a daredevil. Jimmy told me that one of the reasons he took such a risk was because he wanted people to see that white sharks are not the vicious feeding machines Hollywood has made them out to be. On his webpage, he further describes why he swam unprotected with a great white.

About halfway into my trip, Jimmy learned that I was a writer. At that point, had he wanted to hide any illegal actions, he certainly could have, or at least downplayed them. But I don't believe he felt what he was doing was illegal, or else he certainly would not have allowed me to take pictures of one of his crew tossing fish heads to the sharks just off the stern.

I had hoped my article would offset fears that many have about the ocean and its inhabitants, especially in the wake of Stever Irwin's untimely death. I did not intend to "out" Jimmy. In fact, I had hoped my article would help his business, as well as awaken people to the beauty of the animals his expedition showcases.

Feature Article in Seattle P-I

The Seattle PI just published my piece on underwater adventures in Oahu. Check it out:
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/getaways/288156_hawunderwater12.html

Not too shabby. A few edits here and there, but otherwise, the editor didn't touch much. Just wish he'd suppressed the urge to add that damn exclamation mark.

Baddest Biker Bars

It's been up a while, but if you haven't yet checked out my feature on the country's Baddest Biker Bars, take a look and let me know what you think. We'll probably do a follow-up in a few months of bars suggested by our users, so if I've left off your favorite, drop me a line. The feature has already gotten more than a million pageviews, but I'm amping to get it to 2 million. So start clicking!

How to Be an Anal Grammarian

I'll be the first to admit that what I'm about to bitch about is relatively minor -- compared to so many other world events, at least. Even though it all boils down to perhaps 15 pixels, I'm adamant that the Web -- albeit a fantabulous conduit for information and ideas -- is destroying our literacy. And that fact is no more blatant than in use (or lack thereof) of the personal comma. (Okay, instant messengers are far more to blame, but those addicted to that media were illiterate from birth. See: K. Fed.)

This, the "personal comma," is a phrase I've made up, as far as I know, but I've based it on the "personal 'a,'" the preposition used in Spanish anytime a person's proper name comes up. In English, I'm transliterating it similarly. Bear with me.

"Good luck Joe!" This phrase, punctuated as is, actually means that Joe is a source of good luck (minus the clausal hyphen). Yes, I'm being anal. But, again, bear with me. Or bare with me, if that's your style. Similarly, if the sentence were written "Bite me Joe" (as opposed to the properly punctuated "Bite me, Joe"), it would mean that some Irishman was hoping you'd sink your teeth into his pappy.

There are way too many pop-culture examples of the personal comma being omitted in writing. While I'm currently too drunk to think of very many specific examples, one or two come to mind:
"Crunch me Cap'n" (a slogan I found on a box of Cap'n Crunch -- admittedly a cereal marketed to the illiterate; without the comma, it means that some pirate wants you to bite his first in command).
From the Huffington Post: "Thanks for the warning Scott" (I'm guessing some sailor -- pirate, perhaps? -- shot a guy named Scott over the bow of a ship as a warning to would-be pillagers).

From the few examples I could wrangle, it appears that pirates are to blame for our lack of grammatical awareness. But if a show as insipid as "Yes, Dear" can get punctuate correctly, why can't the rest of the populace?