Where is the coral corner?

As I write this, the short answer is Northridge, California. In the suburbs of LA. It’s funny to think how people end up in places. As I walk down these new streets that are completely unfamiliar to me, I wonder about those that surround me. How many of them are also new here? What brought them here? Have they just always been here? Somehow I ended up in a little gated community in “the valley”.

The complex, boundary-challenging answer is: all over.

It’s been almost two weeks since I first arrived and it is just starting to feel real. I had a fast-paced three weeks: leaving Utila, saying hi and bye to everyone at home, packing up 90% of my belongings, and driving from New Jersey to Los Angeles. I finally unpacked my stuff from home in this new room, bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity. I even started a fish tank because I am an adult now and can have my own fish...and frogs. That, and I am going to need a constant serotonin boost to get through grad school, so at least the sounds of trickling water can hopefully keep me somewhat centered. All I keep hearing is that my life is about to disappear and all I am going to know and breathe is my research… and from looking at my TA schedule and my classes and my research deadlines, it does kind of seem that way.

For the last few years, it always seemed like my future steps were obviously planned out. Maybe not the specifics, but I just assumed the next logical step after high school was college, and after college was graduate school. And then after graduate school, it was likely going to be more research. I didn't realize it much until I left home for the first time and then again during the bulk time of covid quarantining, but I felt stuck. More like, I felt stir crazy. There was so much I wanted to do. So much I wanted to explore. Challenge. Experience. Create. My senior year of college I could not entertain the thought of graduate school without feeling confused and dreadful at the thought of another school year during a pandemic.

Having a plan is something I am really good at. Lists? those are my jam. But no plan? Untouched territory. And that was what was ahead after graduating. Well, a loose one.

I knew I needed to take this year of new-found freedom to get back in the water. I had not used my Open Water certification since earning it back in 2018 and it was now halfway through 2021. An internship I applied for back in March of 2020 was thankfully able to be postponed until the fall of 2021. So, I knew at some point after graduating I would be leaving the US on my first truly solo trip to go live in Uitla, Honduras for nine and a half weeks.

It is funny to look back on how I felt preparing to leave the first time… having now lived there for five and a half months, cumulatively. But I will save that for another blog.

After almost 10 weeks of pure tropical sun, I left Utila and was greeted by the dark, frigid weather of a northeast winter. Thankfully juxtaposed with the warmness of my family and the spirit of holidays, I enjoyed being home until I figured out the next step. Though it was not long before I once again began to crave the feeling of being underwater, embraced by the tropical sun and feeling the salt crystals dry on my skin from the spray of the boats.

At this point, I submitted my applications for graduate school to start in the following fall. While in Utila for the first time, I learned I was not ready to commit to a Ph.D. program like I thought I was. I was again stuck on expectations that weren’t necessarily entirely externally imposed, but that I primarily created for myself. Yet after the liberating experience of living on my own and spending equivalent time in the water as on land, I could not fathom the thought of getting stuck in a lab for 5-6 years.

So I came home and added to my list of applications a Masters program at California State University Northridge. The application process was grueling and a bit demoralizing at times. The marine biology world is a small one to begin with, then narrow it down to corals, and suddenly all the professors you research are all friends with each other and hang out after work hours at the annual coral conference. Email after email saying "you seem like an outstanding candidate, but unfortunately I don't have any space in my lab right now" or "I don't have any funding for you". So what was my plan? Well, after submitting my last application in February, I found a job at a local gym and worked for a few months. In March, I booked a one-way ticket back to Utila. I thought, “if I get into grad school, I can just buy a ticket back home and if I don't get in, I can just stay here and figure things out”

That mentality is what keeps many people in Utila. I am not the first and I am certainly far from the last person to buy a one-way ticket and just figure it out. It is one of the many things I grew to love about that little rock.

What was the determining factor in booking my ticket? My dear friend, JB, sent me a voice memo one random Wednesday and informed me he was leaving Utila Coral Foundation (big news by itself) but he thought I should be his replacement. Considering how much I look up to him, this was quite humbling… and an opportunity I could not refuse. It was everything I had been working for and trying to manifest. And here it was. I had been wanting to go back and get my Divemaster, and this job offer made every bit of justification valid. The timing seemed impeccable.

But just a month later, I found out I was accepted into grad school. Everything was finally aligning all at once. Upon my arrival back in Utila, I began my Rescue and EFR training, followed immediately by my Divemaster. As a newly certified DM with just over 100 logged dives, I started my new role of Research Coordinator at UCF, now teaching the same material I was taught just a few months ago.

I quickly learned all the effort that happens behind the scenes to facilitate projects and research and make programs like this internship possible. There were some incredibly long days, hauling gear on and off small boats five to six times, or installing a five-foot screw at the bottom of the wall down at 75ft (23m). Yet this is really the only job I could envision for myself. I didn’t mind waking up at 5:15 every morning to walk 40 minutes along the beach to catch a boat across the lagoon and then ride in a truck for 30 more minutes to get to our field site. Because it meant I got to be in the water.

So right now, I am on a long surface interval as I reside back in the United States, starting a new chapter out in California. I feel a bit overwhelmed at times when I think about all the things I still want to do and all the changes I have experienced this past year. However, I am excited to share my research with whoever follows along and I hope to continue advancing our global understanding of marine ecosystems and the importance they play in our daily lives.