It's all about me...

I suppose you might be interested to hear a little about me?

My name is Albert Lynch, I am an American and I currently reside in Arkham, MA.

I'm not sure why my mother and father decided upon that name. Einstein perhaps? Maybe my father was hoping I would follow him into a career in science? Not that it matters, the net result was that I did, despite the fact that my, oh so inspirational name was rapidly wittled away under the relentless assault of early friends and acquaintances. First to the vaguely acceptable corruption "Albie", and then just "Al". Al Lynch. It could have been worse I suppose...

I'm not much of an exhibitionist, I'm not sure why I am even doing this, perhaps it's the anticipation. It's starting to get to me.

Not that I entertain the notion for a even a minute that anyone would be interested in what I have to say, and I've certainly never been one to show off, but today, for the first time in a long time, things are different. Here I sit, waiting (as I do far too often) for a tectonic plate simulation to complete it's painfully slow run on my aging Sparc workstation and I know I'm nowhere near ready to slope back to the damp apartment that the Miskatonic University so kindly keeps available to me. There is a ray of light, and so I write.

But I digress, some background on me is required - I worked hard and I got my doctorate. I'm a Ph.D/D.Sc - I studied. There isn't a lot of funding for geologists, let alone oceanographers within the academic world, if you want the money then oil is where it's at, and there isn't much of that in my part of the world. The MU doesn't seem to have a lot of funding for anything very much outside of the "usual" scope of research, and anything to do with local geological events seems inexplicably frowned upon and quickly crushed from on high. But, difficulties aside, my interest had peaked in this field long ago, and I had the aptitude, it just felt like the right thing to do.

My work to date has been largely low key academic research (analysis mostly) rather than experimental, but I am happy to justify that (to my critics) with an anecdote - I remember once hearing that Ernest Rutherford upon visiting a university laboratory one evening came upon a student who was working late, he enquired of him whether he "also worked in the mornings"? The student proudly answered "Why, yes", the reply Rutherford gave, as shattering as it must have been, was "But...when do you have time to think"? Wise words.

You may be amused to hear that I am also uniquely crippled for field work in my area of speciality, having as I do a more than healthy respect for the dangers of the deep, cold open ocean. Don't doubt me, I love it, but I am mindful of the dangers - too many repeats of "Deep Rising" perhaps? More likely it's the intellectually resolvable fact that, if we are honest, nobody knows what lurks in the depths - nobody. It's startling to think that Man knows more of distant, cold red Mars than of the lightless abyss mere minutes away from the shore, and that thought is one both irresistably compelling and utterly repellent.

Mankind, with all it's efforts has only explored 5% of the oceans and even less is properly mapped.

So, hello to you, thank you for sticking with me this far, it's really nice to meet you. If, after that introduction, you have any interest in the ramblings of an Oceanographer who has never been out to sea, in fact that has rarely stepped onto a boat then sincerely welcome (however odd that would make you in my mind).

I know this sounds like a terrible cliché, and I don't want to curse anything, but as I mentioned earlier, ahead of me, just over the horizon, could be my great adventure. This could be a big deal, but I won't say more now for fear that if I do, it might not happen after all. That decision rests in the hands of nameless others, meaning this could yet be a diary of little consequence.