Total Pageviews

Sunday, March 27, 2011

The Fight

So, there was a tournament in Reno on Saturday. I didn't know that I'd be going until the night before, and at 10 pm I confirmed with my boss that all was good with my projects, went home, washed my uniform and finally got to bed at midnight.

After a brief 5 hour sleep, I was on my way to Reno. I had to get there early enough to register and I was only allowing myself one cup of coffee. I had the jitters anyway, I think my usual mass load of coffee probably wouldn't have done well with my nervousness.

For almost the entire drive, all I could think about was that the last time I had entered in a tournament. I was probably only 11 years old, but I remember going up against this blue belt who was very good. I remember, he had very fast hands and a mullet sticking through his helmet in the back. For memories sake, I'll just play it safe and say that I had a blue belt too, but I was not nearly as confident as him. I knew before I even went into the ring that I was probably going to lose. And, invariably I did. I got into the ring, and I just froze. I probably didn't even have my hands up. So you can see, I must have been a sitting duck, when WHAM, he nails a perfect side kick to my gut and I go tumbling backwards. Let me tell you...this hurts something fierce. I would not ever suggest putting your guard down.

But this is what fear does to people.
It tries to convince you to put your guard down.

Back to my story, though. So all I could think of driving down, was me at 11 getting my ass handed to me by a little boy with a mullet. These are powerful emotions! Yet still, I pressed on. I had to make it to Reno for this tournament, I just had to.

There was even a snow storm that I had to pass through. The same one that my friend ended up getting stuck in on the other side of the Sierra's, coincidentally. I pressed on, taking my time.

So the story continues with my arrival to the Convention Center. It was packed. I made it through the crowds to get my two class entry wrist bands. I would be competing in two things that day, sparring and kata (forms...martial arts dances). I was very confident about my kata, because I have practiced it so much that I could do it in my sleep. The sparring, however, would prove very difficult.

Until I realized, that I was the only red/brown belt in the entire convention that registered in the adult category. All of the big, intense, super awesome fights and such were all red/bown/black...under 21. They would have kicked my butt. Something that I must have been craving for, with a smile on my face...until I realized that I was the only one in my division. And this younger guy comes up to me, "...Um. excuse me Miss. Is it OK if I put you with the 50 and older division, they need someone to fight."

I looked to my right and saw the 2 most interesting people I have seen in awhile. There was an old man probably in his 80s with thick rimmed glasses, a hunched back, a grey beard and a pot belly. He looks over at me with this great big ol' gleeful grin which covered most of his face. I smiled back apprehensively, and then looked up to his friend in the same class. It was a woman in her late sixties about 3 times my size high and two times wide....a Goliath woman towering over me. She had a big nose and greasy curly hair to her shoulders. She, too, had glasses and a toothy smile. She let out a big HIYA as I glanced. I was so amused, relieved, and piss out of my pants scared. She terrified me, but I couldn't ignore her, so I grinned my biggest right back at her.

The ring steward had to have gotten a hearty laugh out of the 3 of us standing there waiting for a ring to be open.

See, and it wasn't even fair because, well. They paired me with the old man to fight first. I was nice about it...I gave him a chance. My theory on the whole situation, is that Goliath (I never caught her full name) was this woman's friend. Because after I ended up beating him (like I said...I didn't hit him hard at all) Goliath stepped into the ring with a fury so intense that it sent a ripple up my spine. I could hear little children in Japan falling over from her earthquake stomping. I had to be strong, but not strike that delicate line between grandma, big crazy lady coming after me, and fighter. It was hard to think about. And I felt myself going back to being eleven years old again. I started to freeze up and lower my guard again.

Then the most miraculous thing happened. I heard a voice outside the ring, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING PUT YOUR HANDS UP! MOVE AROUND!" And a bell snapped in my head. Wake up dummy! DUH. So I started moving around. Goliath came at me with a series of punches. I dodged to the right..WHAM. Point. I hear "TIME OUT", look around, and see Joji sitting outside the ring.

Joji was not technically one of my teachers, but I took a sparring seminar from her and her husband, Sensai Martin. The lady waves me over, grabs my head and starts talking in my ear. "Make her off balance and for God's sake, MOVE AROUND. Don't give her the chance."

I go back and we are sparring again. WHAM. I blitz and end up getting her forehead. Point. But upon landing my blitz, she throws one right back. BOOM! She got my jaw and scores another point herself. If I get one more point, I win.

Joji yells, "You can do it!" I dodge left and then right. I go up and try to come down with a front snap. Too late. Goliath saw it coming. BOOM! To the side of my face. Point.

I lost.
We lined up. We shook hands. But I still. Lost. I got a first place trophy and I didn't want it. I didn't deserve it.

Joji gives me her card. I came back and wrote this. Just now.

Monday, March 14, 2011

happy monday world!

To my 4 loyal, devoted, wonderful, blogging friends....Rock on!

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Spring Forward

Today the clock strikes an hour more. Where are you, my friends?

I sense us all going through a scene. No one's life is a straight predictable line.

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
-Shakespeare (As You Like It)

So why do we fret? We already know how we came into this world, and we already know that life will not go on forever. We know that what we have is what we are given. We are given this gift of breath, of thought, of existence. We become aware, and in our sense of awareness, we exist. This is what I know.

So, again, why do we fret? So many of our moments exist as links and references to other times. To things come, to things past. Things that we wish to change become evident in our lives and we seek out some higher truth to explain what we can not.

We know that we all have a part to play, and we all want to know what it is. It's like watching LOST, or some other drawn out series. You know where you are and who you are, but WHY are you, really? Well. I suppose there is no fine line to draw this conclusion. This is a journey that everyone must endure.

In Tae Kwon Do, we start off every class reading the tenants. Courtesy. Integrity. Perseverance. Self - Control. Indomitable Spirit. These tenants have helped shape and form my life. Though I have strayed from it in the past, it has become a quasi religion for me now that I am an adult. It is a way of being, a life style, moreover.

So why do I fret? Well. Because I know for every part I have played in my life there are probably 200 gazillion that I have not. I have been a daughter, a child, a sister, a lover, a friend, a co-worker, a colleague etc. What I have not done I need not say here, but I think the item that tops it all is that I did not respect myself. In my times of need and trouble, I did not care to remember who I really was. And this is what hurt the worst.

So I decided to do something about it folks. Do you know what it starts with? It starts with an affirmative statement followed close by the necessary action to back it up. I will play my role, but for right now, I am not going to worry about it. I wake up in the morning and say, this is WHO I AM. This is WHERE I am. This is WHERE I am going, and by God. I am going to make it if it kills me.

And you know what? I try to be all the things that are good in this world. I TRY to be a good friend. I TRY to take care of my family. I TRY to teach kids in my class about being an adult. I don't always succeed. In fact, most times I think I come off like a bumbling idiot. But I TRY. And I sleep good at night because of it.

But if I can't live up to everyone's expectations...oh well. Life goes on. I am starting my Spring Forward with an affirmation of self respect. I play my part and do what I can when I can. I believe in myself, and that Black Belt is going to be mine!!!

Prometheus' Will

This was so good I had to share
From freewill

Dear Mr. Astrologer:

Like the god Prometheus, I stole fire from the gods and gave it to people who sometimes make awful use of it. As punishment, the gods chained me to a rock on the beach, and arranged for an eagle to come daily to eat my liver. Luckily, the liver grows back every night. Unluckily, the eagle always returns to devour it again. I'm used to it by now; it doesn't hurt as much as it once did. But I'm still eager to get out of my predicament. Any suggestions?

Aries in Limbo

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

letter to my history teacher

So, I am taking this History class through GBC, and it is conducted via WebCampus on Mondays and Wednesdays at the Winnemucca campus. Basically, I go in, and they have us all on video camera while the teacher teaches from Elko. I made the mistake of talking to a classmate during a lecture on Monday, and the following emails happened-

| I wanted you to know that the camera was on Winnemucca during today's video presentation and I noticed that there was some talking between you and a classmate. You should know that I do count participation as a part of the course grade.
| |
| | CMcM

Yes, but regardless I was still paying attention. I actually like and appreciate history. I could make a witty analogy to the WebCampus system and the British government, but I will save you the eye sore. Thanks though!
| Jessie

I'd like to hear your analogy, though!

Sure! Note that if anything, I am writing this to a)give some sort of comical relief and b)well. I am not sure. I like to write, and please don't take anything that I say seriously. I am obviously not doing this for a grade, but I feel compelled to respond in a civil and intellectual manner.

To start off with, there is the general idea of taxation without representation that was prevalent in Parliament. (and of which we have been discussing within the past week). My analogy begins hither with the idea that as a student, I am essentially paying a tax to the Great Basin College and in exchange I am receiving a great service of education. In essence, I would be comparing your role to that of a leader in Parliament. I do not know whether you are on any sort of authoritative Board or not, so for simplicity sake, I would not assume that you pass or exchange any such rules that a student would partake in. Instead, I will use this example to illustrate that it is essentially the right of the student to elect the classes he/she takes. In doing such electing, the person is thus voting for the teacher they would like to have represent their grades.

Therefore, in electing to take this history course I am paying a tax whereupon the teacher is paid to teach. It is my responsibility to learn or not learn, but it is ultimately my own will (or lack of will) power that will directly influence my final grade.

And just as the British government was attempting to control trade, raise taxes and submit blind authority to the New England citizens, thus I feel the direction of this class going. You may feel that I was disrespecting your class on Monday by carrying out a small menial conversation, but I would have to disagree on this end. In fact, I would say that I was probably respecting you more than you were giving credit for. I did, after all show some initiative by coming to class and trying to listen. You could say that I was being a loyalist this time. If the taxes were to increase though, I would have reasonable cause to raise my fellow colleagues to arms! (This is a joke)

Also, there is this mutual feeling of virtual representation within the classroom which is both literal and metaphorical to the Revolutionary cause. Literal in the sense that the camera really is watching. Metaphorical in that the distance between countries (WebCampus locations) is great and sometimes there is various mis communications.

Finally. I would like to make a suggestion. Perhaps the colonialists would have agreed with me on this manner, but before you went to war, this situation of salutatory neglect was quite preferable. Leave out the part where political hacks are voted into office and let sleeping dogs lie.

By this point you must think that I am strange beyond measure. I was upset that I could not attend class today. I had a last minute work trip to Colorado. I hope there are not too many typos, I am rather tired. I hope that your weekend goes well and my analogy is not entirely in vain.

Me and my smart ass mouth. What do you think? Will she despise me and fail me on principle?