The Kickathon is tomorrow, and I thought that today I'd do a wrap-up of the blogging experiment, because statistics are fun! Courtesy of Google Analytics, bit.ly, and Facebook.
- 28 posts
- 1,402 total pageviews
- 384 unique visitors
- 39 Facebook comments
- 31 "likes"
- 10 blog comments
- One link from a well-known women's athletics blog
- Six donors
- $125 dollars raised
Saturdays and Sundays are definitely slow times - y'all are clearly only reading these at work. The fiction got the most feedback on Facebook for sure, but didn't get anywhere near the most traffic. (That's not definitive, of course, because I can't sort out people who just read posts from the front page rather than the permalinks, but there's a large difference between the top posts and the lesser ones.)
Thanks to everyone who donated, and if you haven't, there's still time. This was a great experiment, and an excellent writing challenge for me. I still got my butt soundly kicked, fundraising-wise, by people who went with more traditional methods, but hey - we reached our overall goal, and I ain't complaining. I would love to hear feedback on what y'all who have read so regularly thought of the whole thing - too much content? Not enough? More fiction? More pictures? Kill the italicized explanatory bits?
I dunno if I'll do the same thing next year, but this year was fun! Tomorrow is the actual event, and I'll post a report with pics sometime in the next few days. Thanks for coming!
Showing posts with label Karate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Karate. Show all posts
Friday, November 6, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Thirty
I have been remiss this week, but ramp-up to the actual event is eating much of my brain power. And we are less than two hundred dollars from our goal! This is awesome - I confess I was a little skeptical that we'd hit it, in this economy.
Thanks to everyone who's donated, and if you haven't yet, There's still time! Here is the link.
Thanks to everyone who's donated, and if you haven't yet, There's still time! Here is the link.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twenty-Eight
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense, or possibly just whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
It's Tuesday, and that means I get to make bullet lists. I love bullet lists. Although I'm too lazy to make actual bullets.
- We're only a few days from the Kickathon. I hope everyone's been enjoying the blog - I know I've got a reasonably steady readership, from the stats (which I totally do not obsess over, whatever gave you that idea?) If you've been one of those regulars, I will ask again that you please consider chipping in $5! We're not quite at our goal yet - it's reachable, but we need just a little more help to make it happen.
- If you're still a little fuzzy on what we're actually raising money for, black belt Graham lays it out in plain terms.
- I mentioned this yesterday, but hi to the Stumptuous folks wandering over!
- Either Saturday or Sunday I'll post pics and results from the Kickathon itself - hopefully none will be too terribly embarrassing, but with my sense of balance, that may be too much to ask.
If you'd like to donate to our fundraiser, there's the link!
It's Tuesday, and that means I get to make bullet lists. I love bullet lists. Although I'm too lazy to make actual bullets.
- We're only a few days from the Kickathon. I hope everyone's been enjoying the blog - I know I've got a reasonably steady readership, from the stats (which I totally do not obsess over, whatever gave you that idea?) If you've been one of those regulars, I will ask again that you please consider chipping in $5! We're not quite at our goal yet - it's reachable, but we need just a little more help to make it happen.
- If you're still a little fuzzy on what we're actually raising money for, black belt Graham lays it out in plain terms.
- I mentioned this yesterday, but hi to the Stumptuous folks wandering over!
- Either Saturday or Sunday I'll post pics and results from the Kickathon itself - hopefully none will be too terribly embarrassing, but with my sense of balance, that may be too much to ask.
If you'd like to donate to our fundraiser, there's the link!
Monday, November 2, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twenty-seven
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense, or possibly just whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
I confess I missed last night's update - so close to perfection, too. Also, if you've found your way here from Stumptuous, welcome! And now, on with the blog.
Tonight in class, our instructor talked a little bit about maintaining focus and composure in practice, even - especially - when doing things that make us uncomfortable. She said "Has anyone ever said something totally insulting, and you got so flustered you couldn't respond? Practicing keeping your composure here will help your brain get used to that feeling, so it doesn't totally lock up when you're stressed." I could certainly relate to that - today more than usual.
I am not a girly girl. I tend to wear baggy t-shirts and jeans, my hair is as often buzz-cut as anything, and I spend very little time worrying about my appearance. This is, however, partly a defense mechanism - I am rather well-endowed in the chest region, and if I wear tight shirts or look particularly feminine, I get attention that's unwanted at best, and usually unpleasant.
This morning I grabbed a shirt that I haven't worn in ages. It's just a long-sleeve tee, but it's got a particularly wide neckline - wide enough that I had to move my bra straps over a bit so they weren't hanging out. I'm thoroughly tattooed around the shoulders, so on the one hand it's nice to be able to show off the art. But in the elevator on the way to work, I realized that I looked way more femme than usual, and it made me uncomfortable.
Nothing in particular happened today to justify it, but it has, in the past. I remember one time at a restaurant out in the Hill Country, some good ole boy came up to me out of a clear blue sky and said, "You're pretty, but you need to wear some makeup."
What do you say to something like that? There were so many different things wrong with that statement that I couldn't pick one to call out. I just stared at him, appalled, and he went away. I didn't feel particularly insulted, because the opinions of ill-bred idiot strangers are not particularly valuable to me, but I certainly wished I'd had some snappy comeback instead of just a blank stare.
Hopefully self-defense practice will improve the odds of getting a quip out before I punch the next bastard to pull something like that right square in the throat. Really, people. Who raised you, anyway?
Some days I suspect my instructor despairs of ever teaching some of us the principles of non-violence. She keeps trying, though.
If you haven't already, please do donate $5 to our fundraiser - the event is on Saturday, and this is the last big push to meet our goal.
I confess I missed last night's update - so close to perfection, too. Also, if you've found your way here from Stumptuous, welcome! And now, on with the blog.
Tonight in class, our instructor talked a little bit about maintaining focus and composure in practice, even - especially - when doing things that make us uncomfortable. She said "Has anyone ever said something totally insulting, and you got so flustered you couldn't respond? Practicing keeping your composure here will help your brain get used to that feeling, so it doesn't totally lock up when you're stressed." I could certainly relate to that - today more than usual.
I am not a girly girl. I tend to wear baggy t-shirts and jeans, my hair is as often buzz-cut as anything, and I spend very little time worrying about my appearance. This is, however, partly a defense mechanism - I am rather well-endowed in the chest region, and if I wear tight shirts or look particularly feminine, I get attention that's unwanted at best, and usually unpleasant.
This morning I grabbed a shirt that I haven't worn in ages. It's just a long-sleeve tee, but it's got a particularly wide neckline - wide enough that I had to move my bra straps over a bit so they weren't hanging out. I'm thoroughly tattooed around the shoulders, so on the one hand it's nice to be able to show off the art. But in the elevator on the way to work, I realized that I looked way more femme than usual, and it made me uncomfortable.
Nothing in particular happened today to justify it, but it has, in the past. I remember one time at a restaurant out in the Hill Country, some good ole boy came up to me out of a clear blue sky and said, "You're pretty, but you need to wear some makeup."
What do you say to something like that? There were so many different things wrong with that statement that I couldn't pick one to call out. I just stared at him, appalled, and he went away. I didn't feel particularly insulted, because the opinions of ill-bred idiot strangers are not particularly valuable to me, but I certainly wished I'd had some snappy comeback instead of just a blank stare.
Hopefully self-defense practice will improve the odds of getting a quip out before I punch the next bastard to pull something like that right square in the throat. Really, people. Who raised you, anyway?
Some days I suspect my instructor despairs of ever teaching some of us the principles of non-violence. She keeps trying, though.
If you haven't already, please do donate $5 to our fundraiser - the event is on Saturday, and this is the last big push to meet our goal.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twenty-five
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense, or possibly just whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
Happy Halloween! Here's a spooky true story appropriate for the occasion.
On a fine cool day, we hiked up the hill, through the forest, down the road, and across the cornfield to the graveyard. I no longer recall why we went to the graveyard, but we were ten, and graveyards were neat. Our group leader pointed out some significant older graves, and we solemnly examined the inscriptions. Then we scattered a little bit to contemplate our inevitable mortality at our leisure.
I crouched at a particularly interesting grave with two other girls, murmuring perhaps over the youth of its occupant. For some reason, I looked up. Walking along the gravel drive in the bright sunlight was a woman in a long coat. I mentioned her to the other girls, and then we went back to our examination. Not more than half a minute later, I glanced up again. The woman was gone.
I stood up and looked up and down the drive - it was clear for a hundred yards in both directions. The other girls also stood, and we peered all around us. With many nervous glances at each other, we walked toward the road, always expecting to see the woman behind one of the few trees, or perhaps kneeling at a grave. But she was gone.
That evening around the campfire, ghost stories brought a chill - but not for their own sakes. The three of us had seen a ghost for real.
I'm much less convinced of it now, of course, but at the time, that was the eeriest thing I'd ever seen.
Only one week left to donate $5 to our fundraiser!
Happy Halloween! Here's a spooky true story appropriate for the occasion.
On a fine cool day, we hiked up the hill, through the forest, down the road, and across the cornfield to the graveyard. I no longer recall why we went to the graveyard, but we were ten, and graveyards were neat. Our group leader pointed out some significant older graves, and we solemnly examined the inscriptions. Then we scattered a little bit to contemplate our inevitable mortality at our leisure.
I crouched at a particularly interesting grave with two other girls, murmuring perhaps over the youth of its occupant. For some reason, I looked up. Walking along the gravel drive in the bright sunlight was a woman in a long coat. I mentioned her to the other girls, and then we went back to our examination. Not more than half a minute later, I glanced up again. The woman was gone.
I stood up and looked up and down the drive - it was clear for a hundred yards in both directions. The other girls also stood, and we peered all around us. With many nervous glances at each other, we walked toward the road, always expecting to see the woman behind one of the few trees, or perhaps kneeling at a grave. But she was gone.
That evening around the campfire, ghost stories brought a chill - but not for their own sakes. The three of us had seen a ghost for real.
I'm much less convinced of it now, of course, but at the time, that was the eeriest thing I'd ever seen.
Only one week left to donate $5 to our fundraiser!
Friday, October 30, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twenty-Four
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense, or possibly just whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
When I'm stressed, my dreams get violent. This isn't much of a surprise given my preference for swordfight-packed books and video games, but my subconscious is shockingly good at providing detailed action-movie plots to externalize whatever is bugging me at any given moment. There was a lot bugging me in high school, even if it was just raging hormones and homework, so my dreams regularly featured full-color surround-sound with extra explosions.
One fine evening my sophomore year, I found myself leading the remnant of a scouting squad back to the main camp after an ambush by the orcs. I was pissed - the orcish champion (who was inexplicably human, and also kinda hot) had engineered the ambush, and I'd lost at least one friend. In typical dream fashion, the next scene was the full-out melee between the human and the orcish armies. I was trying to find the orcish champion, but instead encountered the orc king. He was about four feet tall, green, and not nearly good enough with a sword. I killed him, and the battle melted away.
My own king told me the orcish champion had escaped - I was ordered to run her down and capture her. So off I went, and I ended up cornering her in what was, if I recall correctly, my junior high school bathroom. I attempted to menace her with my sword. She laughed and mocked me. Pissed, I knocked her sword from her hand and lunged. I stabbed her square in the chest, and she dropped.
And that was when I realized I loved her.
Now, this was a dream. It didn't have to make sense. I didn't need any particular relationship with her or even to know her name. It was pure emotion - I dropped to my knees, told her I loved her, and watched the light go out of her eyes. I woke up sobbing.
I still don't know if she heard me.
I think about her almost every night, more than a decade later. And the idea of losing my temper like that, lashing out, still scares me white. It was just a dream, but I can still feel that sense of overwhelming loss and grief. Sometimes, while sparring, I'll kick a little bit harder than I should, more out of reaction than strategy, and then I'll freak out very quietly and pull way back. Maybe it makes me a safer partner - that would be nice to believe. But mainly I still have to deal with the unshakable knowledge that I could kill someone in a moment of heat. It doesn't matter that it was just a dream.
I've accepted that I have to learn how to fight better in order to make myself safer - it's part of why I like studying karate in a non-competitive environment. But I still I tend to look a little longer than I should at tall brunettes with long, straight hair, because part of my mind insists that she was *real*, and someday maybe I'll find her, and get a chance to apologize.
Incidentally, taking a shotgun blast to the stomach - even in a dream - is not a pleasant experience. I don't miss high school a bit. Only one week left to donate $5 to our fundraiser!
When I'm stressed, my dreams get violent. This isn't much of a surprise given my preference for swordfight-packed books and video games, but my subconscious is shockingly good at providing detailed action-movie plots to externalize whatever is bugging me at any given moment. There was a lot bugging me in high school, even if it was just raging hormones and homework, so my dreams regularly featured full-color surround-sound with extra explosions.
One fine evening my sophomore year, I found myself leading the remnant of a scouting squad back to the main camp after an ambush by the orcs. I was pissed - the orcish champion (who was inexplicably human, and also kinda hot) had engineered the ambush, and I'd lost at least one friend. In typical dream fashion, the next scene was the full-out melee between the human and the orcish armies. I was trying to find the orcish champion, but instead encountered the orc king. He was about four feet tall, green, and not nearly good enough with a sword. I killed him, and the battle melted away.
My own king told me the orcish champion had escaped - I was ordered to run her down and capture her. So off I went, and I ended up cornering her in what was, if I recall correctly, my junior high school bathroom. I attempted to menace her with my sword. She laughed and mocked me. Pissed, I knocked her sword from her hand and lunged. I stabbed her square in the chest, and she dropped.
And that was when I realized I loved her.
Now, this was a dream. It didn't have to make sense. I didn't need any particular relationship with her or even to know her name. It was pure emotion - I dropped to my knees, told her I loved her, and watched the light go out of her eyes. I woke up sobbing.
I still don't know if she heard me.
I think about her almost every night, more than a decade later. And the idea of losing my temper like that, lashing out, still scares me white. It was just a dream, but I can still feel that sense of overwhelming loss and grief. Sometimes, while sparring, I'll kick a little bit harder than I should, more out of reaction than strategy, and then I'll freak out very quietly and pull way back. Maybe it makes me a safer partner - that would be nice to believe. But mainly I still have to deal with the unshakable knowledge that I could kill someone in a moment of heat. It doesn't matter that it was just a dream.
I've accepted that I have to learn how to fight better in order to make myself safer - it's part of why I like studying karate in a non-competitive environment. But I still I tend to look a little longer than I should at tall brunettes with long, straight hair, because part of my mind insists that she was *real*, and someday maybe I'll find her, and get a chance to apologize.
Incidentally, taking a shotgun blast to the stomach - even in a dream - is not a pleasant experience. I don't miss high school a bit. Only one week left to donate $5 to our fundraiser!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twenty-three
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense, or possibly just whatever strikes my fancy. Enjoy!
I am grumpy.
I was reminded rather forcefully today that my digestion only handles dairy if it's exposed to it frequently - the last couple of weeks I've had almost none, and my guts were VERY displeased at the bacon cheddar burger with cheese fries at lunch. Cheese is one of my favorite things in all the world, but this brought it home that it's really not very good for me.
For those of you who haven't read my earlier whining on the topic, I am also gluten-intolerant - this means anything involving bread and quite a few things that don't make all of my joints swell up and hurt like a $%@@^%@er. This was a fairly recent discovery, and while I'm mostly resigned to it, I'm still not happy about it.
And then, while recovering from lunch, I read this. The rest of the thread was touching, but that comment was a punch in the gut.
I was an on-and-off vegetarian for several years in high school and afterwards. I wasn't a huge fanatic or anything, I just felt better when I wasn't eating meat (unless I was lifting weights, which would give me steak cravings like you wouldn't believe. That usually led to an "off" phase.) But I felt good about my choices, and I felt good about myself.
When I moved to Austin my girlfriend, who is a fabulous cook, wasn't thrilled that I wouldn't eat much of what she wanted to make. I stuck to my guns for a little while, but... she was a fabulous cook. So I went back to eating meat - with relish, mind you - and have very carefully not thought about it too hard since.
Until today. And now I face a dilemma - I could go back to being a vegetarian, but now I can't eat most bread products either, and I really shouldn't go back to eating a ton of dairy. That cuts out a lot of calories that I'm not sure how I'd replace - eating nothing but fresh fruits and vegetables is expensive. And if eggs are my primary source of protein... I guess I could eat a lot of tofu, but a) I don't particularly like tofu, and b) the hormonal implications of eating a ton of soy products are not terribly well-explored. And my friends are already graciously accommodating my gluten issues - I don't know how much more I can ask.
But dammit, the only way I can eat meat is to stop thinking about it again. And I don't know if I can do that either.
At least half the dojo raises chickens, so I can get guilt-free eggs if I ever remember to ask about them. Support your local hippies! Donate $5 to our fundraiser today!
I am grumpy.
I was reminded rather forcefully today that my digestion only handles dairy if it's exposed to it frequently - the last couple of weeks I've had almost none, and my guts were VERY displeased at the bacon cheddar burger with cheese fries at lunch. Cheese is one of my favorite things in all the world, but this brought it home that it's really not very good for me.
For those of you who haven't read my earlier whining on the topic, I am also gluten-intolerant - this means anything involving bread and quite a few things that don't make all of my joints swell up and hurt like a $%@@^%@er. This was a fairly recent discovery, and while I'm mostly resigned to it, I'm still not happy about it.
And then, while recovering from lunch, I read this. The rest of the thread was touching, but that comment was a punch in the gut.
I was an on-and-off vegetarian for several years in high school and afterwards. I wasn't a huge fanatic or anything, I just felt better when I wasn't eating meat (unless I was lifting weights, which would give me steak cravings like you wouldn't believe. That usually led to an "off" phase.) But I felt good about my choices, and I felt good about myself.
When I moved to Austin my girlfriend, who is a fabulous cook, wasn't thrilled that I wouldn't eat much of what she wanted to make. I stuck to my guns for a little while, but... she was a fabulous cook. So I went back to eating meat - with relish, mind you - and have very carefully not thought about it too hard since.
Until today. And now I face a dilemma - I could go back to being a vegetarian, but now I can't eat most bread products either, and I really shouldn't go back to eating a ton of dairy. That cuts out a lot of calories that I'm not sure how I'd replace - eating nothing but fresh fruits and vegetables is expensive. And if eggs are my primary source of protein... I guess I could eat a lot of tofu, but a) I don't particularly like tofu, and b) the hormonal implications of eating a ton of soy products are not terribly well-explored. And my friends are already graciously accommodating my gluten issues - I don't know how much more I can ask.
But dammit, the only way I can eat meat is to stop thinking about it again. And I don't know if I can do that either.
At least half the dojo raises chickens, so I can get guilt-free eggs if I ever remember to ask about them. Support your local hippies! Donate $5 to our fundraiser today!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twenty-Two
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
Imagine two cultures.
One, a clan-based warrior people. Every child becomes at least competent with weapons, and many people, men and women, join warrior societies and raid, duel, and feud all the time. They have an intricate code of honor and obligation, and follow it to the letter - to do otherwise is unthinkable.
Another is an absolutely pacifist society. They would - and do - die rather than raise an hand against another human. They are nomadic, living it wagons and avoiding cities because wherever they go, young people are intrigued by their beliefs, giving them the reputation that they steal children. They are a happy, singing people, but are distrusted and harassed.
Which culture descended from the other?
I still have the Wheel of Time on the brain. Don't let that distract you from donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Imagine two cultures.
One, a clan-based warrior people. Every child becomes at least competent with weapons, and many people, men and women, join warrior societies and raid, duel, and feud all the time. They have an intricate code of honor and obligation, and follow it to the letter - to do otherwise is unthinkable.
Another is an absolutely pacifist society. They would - and do - die rather than raise an hand against another human. They are nomadic, living it wagons and avoiding cities because wherever they go, young people are intrigued by their beliefs, giving them the reputation that they steal children. They are a happy, singing people, but are distrusted and harassed.
Which culture descended from the other?
I still have the Wheel of Time on the brain. Don't let that distract you from donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twenty-One
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
It's Tuesday, and it's also the Gathering Storm release day, so... have a status update!
- We're at 55% overall, which is awesome, but there are less than two weeks left! If you've considered donating, please go ahead and do so!
- Thanks to everyone for your kind words about the short story - it's much appreciated! I haven't written non-video-game-related short fiction in... well, I can't remember how long. But I'm glad people enjoyed it.
- I'm definitely at the flailing-for-topics stage, so the next ten blog posts will be much more general. I'll stick to the one-a-day limit, but aim more to amuse than to educate, since no doubt y'all have gotten the point by now.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you're having fun!
Sun Dragon is home to one of the most consistently awesome groups of people I've ever encountered. Please support the awesomeness by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
It's Tuesday, and it's also the Gathering Storm release day, so... have a status update!
- We're at 55% overall, which is awesome, but there are less than two weeks left! If you've considered donating, please go ahead and do so!
- Thanks to everyone for your kind words about the short story - it's much appreciated! I haven't written non-video-game-related short fiction in... well, I can't remember how long. But I'm glad people enjoyed it.
- I'm definitely at the flailing-for-topics stage, so the next ten blog posts will be much more general. I'll stick to the one-a-day limit, but aim more to amuse than to educate, since no doubt y'all have gotten the point by now.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you're having fun!
Sun Dragon is home to one of the most consistently awesome groups of people I've ever encountered. Please support the awesomeness by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Monday, October 26, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twenty
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
This is completely unrelated except in that it involved a bunch of people from karate, but it's too good a story not to tell.
KJ, Laura and I went to the Texas Renaissance Festival this weekend. We were meeting a bunch of other folks there the next morning, but Laura really REALLY likes to camp, so we packed up and shipped out after work on Friday. Laura's station wagon was pretty jam-packed, and I was pretty tightly wedged in to the back seat, but it wasn't unbearable and we didn't have to leave anything critical behind.
The festival is about two and a half hours away. About an hour in, Laura began muttering about how it really wasn't that windy, but none of us thought anything of it. Half an hour later, she said she thought something was funny - maybe a tire was flat?
"No, if a tire was flat you'd totally feel it," I said.
"We can stop at the next gas station," said KJ. The next gas station was probably fifteen minutes away.
"Ok," says Laura.
*pause*
BANG!
"Ok, NOW the tire's flat."
Laura steered the shuddering wagon onto the shoulder, and we got out. The right rear tire was shredded. It was chilly and very dark, but, conveniently, we had a lovely electric lantern handy. We unloaded the back of the wagon and, working together, got the spare on in record time.
We wedged the flat tire back in the well, but it was too big to fit neatly. This wouldn't have been a problem except that we needed every cubic inch of space. I ended up in the back seat with a plastic tub on my lap big enough that I couldn't see over it. It was very isolating, and I spent the next fifteen minutes praying that we wouldn't get rear-ended, or I'd be be squashed like a bug.
The guys at the nearest Wal-Mart weren't much help. They gave us vague directions to "that guy who does tires" and, as it was nine o'clock on a Friday, we decided to just put some more air in the donut and deal with it in the morning. None of us felt terribly secure on the teeny, cute little spare tire with the car as loaded down as it was, but there weren't very many options in the middle of nowhere, East Texas, at that hour.
The next morning, Laura and I hopped in the car - KJ stayed behind to wash the breakfast dishes - and set out in search of someone who could sell us a tire. The directions we'd gotten the previous night pointed to a location at least half an hour away, and we had no way of knowing if the place was open - or even if it really existed.
As we were coming up to 105, I suggested we pull into the Shell and ask. We turned into their parking lot, and, as we turned, we spotted a sight across the street - "Tire and Tractor". It was a very small building with two garage doors and a couple piles of sagging tires out front. It wouldn't have been very promising, but we were fairly desperate - and the doors were open. Laura swung the car around and we pulled in.
There were two guys inside looking bored, and they were more than happy to make fun of our shredded tire and replace it with another one that wasn't new but was more or less the right size, and we were thrilled. We were back at the faire no more than half an hour after we'd left, and the tire held all the way home.
Sun Dragon is home to one of the most consistently awesome groups of people I've ever encountered. Please support the awesomeness by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
This is completely unrelated except in that it involved a bunch of people from karate, but it's too good a story not to tell.
KJ, Laura and I went to the Texas Renaissance Festival this weekend. We were meeting a bunch of other folks there the next morning, but Laura really REALLY likes to camp, so we packed up and shipped out after work on Friday. Laura's station wagon was pretty jam-packed, and I was pretty tightly wedged in to the back seat, but it wasn't unbearable and we didn't have to leave anything critical behind.
The festival is about two and a half hours away. About an hour in, Laura began muttering about how it really wasn't that windy, but none of us thought anything of it. Half an hour later, she said she thought something was funny - maybe a tire was flat?
"No, if a tire was flat you'd totally feel it," I said.
"We can stop at the next gas station," said KJ. The next gas station was probably fifteen minutes away.
"Ok," says Laura.
*pause*
BANG!
"Ok, NOW the tire's flat."
Laura steered the shuddering wagon onto the shoulder, and we got out. The right rear tire was shredded. It was chilly and very dark, but, conveniently, we had a lovely electric lantern handy. We unloaded the back of the wagon and, working together, got the spare on in record time.
We wedged the flat tire back in the well, but it was too big to fit neatly. This wouldn't have been a problem except that we needed every cubic inch of space. I ended up in the back seat with a plastic tub on my lap big enough that I couldn't see over it. It was very isolating, and I spent the next fifteen minutes praying that we wouldn't get rear-ended, or I'd be be squashed like a bug.
The guys at the nearest Wal-Mart weren't much help. They gave us vague directions to "that guy who does tires" and, as it was nine o'clock on a Friday, we decided to just put some more air in the donut and deal with it in the morning. None of us felt terribly secure on the teeny, cute little spare tire with the car as loaded down as it was, but there weren't very many options in the middle of nowhere, East Texas, at that hour.
The next morning, Laura and I hopped in the car - KJ stayed behind to wash the breakfast dishes - and set out in search of someone who could sell us a tire. The directions we'd gotten the previous night pointed to a location at least half an hour away, and we had no way of knowing if the place was open - or even if it really existed.
As we were coming up to 105, I suggested we pull into the Shell and ask. We turned into their parking lot, and, as we turned, we spotted a sight across the street - "Tire and Tractor". It was a very small building with two garage doors and a couple piles of sagging tires out front. It wouldn't have been very promising, but we were fairly desperate - and the doors were open. Laura swung the car around and we pulled in.
There were two guys inside looking bored, and they were more than happy to make fun of our shredded tire and replace it with another one that wasn't new but was more or less the right size, and we were thrilled. We were back at the faire no more than half an hour after we'd left, and the tire held all the way home.
Sun Dragon is home to one of the most consistently awesome groups of people I've ever encountered. Please support the awesomeness by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Nineteen
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
So I'm running up against the "every day" rule here - I got back from Renfaire this afternoon, and I'm pretty braindead. Operating on the principle that a picture is worth a thousand words, tonight's post will consist of simply this:
I write about zombies too long, I become one! Please do consider donating $5 to our fundraiser!
So I'm running up against the "every day" rule here - I got back from Renfaire this afternoon, and I'm pretty braindead. Operating on the principle that a picture is worth a thousand words, tonight's post will consist of simply this:
I write about zombies too long, I become one! Please do consider donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Fifteen
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
Our instructor Joy's teachers Shihan Nancy and Kyoshi Sarah (Shihan and Kyoshi are titles referring to their holders' sixth and fifth degree black belt ranks, respectively) came down this spring to administer the first-degree black belt test for two Sun Dragon students. We spent the weeks before their arrival practicing super-formal address to everyone and scrubbing every surface compulsively. They're really very nice people, but the mood was that of a family preparing for a visit from its revered but strict and intimidating older relatives. (A feeling I'm used to - every time Grandma visits, Mom pays for a visit from a cleaning service to prepare. Sometimes two visits.)
The first night they were there, they taught a couple classes (which were interesting and fun and just about the whole school turned out for them, which was neat) and then we went to dinner. We went to a Mexican place not far away. It was Friday night, and we had a fairly big party, so it wasn't that big a surprise that there was a wait. It was slightly annoying that we had to stand outside because there was no place to sit, but it wasn't that cold.
Ten minutes later, it was getting that cold. I had a sweatshirt in my car, so I ran to get it. A little further redistribution of outerwear later, and we were fine. We stood shoulder to shoulder in the traditional damn-it's-cold circle, and I felt very much at home. So did the visiting Chicagoans, I imagine. One big table on the patio opened up shortly thereafter, and half the group, including our guests, went with apologies to the rest of us to sit down.
Fifteen minutes after that, we sent a messenger to the hostess to find out what our place in line was. She said the table next to the other half of our party was just finishing up, so it wouldn't be long. Fair enough. We reformed the huddle.
Ten minutes later and the people at our promised table were lingering over drinks. The huddle drifted slightly closer and we started to shoot glares at them.
Another ten minutes passed with no movement. The hostess apologized profusely, but there really wasn't anything she could do. She was very nice, really, and we all tried hard not to catch her in the crossfire of glaring.
Ten minutes later, the table finally picked up the check. We cheered very quietly. They started passing it around and obviously debating it. We followed it like spectators at a tennis match. One person pulled out his wallet and then rummaged through his pockets, and we groaned. We debated offering to cover the tip for them if they'd just go away, but decided to wait.
The seated half of the party had already gotten their food. We were still waiting. We were now leaning on the porch rail about ten feet from our adversaries and making no secret of our intense interest in their leavetaking. It took another ten minutes before they actually got up. As near as we could tell, they never noticed us at all.
At this point we were cold, hungry, and cranky. When we finally sat down, our other table immediately passed us their half-finished appetizers so we wouldn't faint. They were of course done with their meals before we got ours, but they graciously waited while we ate. It didn't take long. In the end, we were grateful that the two black belt candidates had decided to go home and retire early instead of joining us, and fervently hoped that the meal wasn't as memorable for our guests as it had been for our table.
I think this incident highlights the effectiveness of Sun Dragon's violence prevention training, because without that, there surely would have been a rumble. Help us prevent more restaurant riots by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Our instructor Joy's teachers Shihan Nancy and Kyoshi Sarah (Shihan and Kyoshi are titles referring to their holders' sixth and fifth degree black belt ranks, respectively) came down this spring to administer the first-degree black belt test for two Sun Dragon students. We spent the weeks before their arrival practicing super-formal address to everyone and scrubbing every surface compulsively. They're really very nice people, but the mood was that of a family preparing for a visit from its revered but strict and intimidating older relatives. (A feeling I'm used to - every time Grandma visits, Mom pays for a visit from a cleaning service to prepare. Sometimes two visits.)
The first night they were there, they taught a couple classes (which were interesting and fun and just about the whole school turned out for them, which was neat) and then we went to dinner. We went to a Mexican place not far away. It was Friday night, and we had a fairly big party, so it wasn't that big a surprise that there was a wait. It was slightly annoying that we had to stand outside because there was no place to sit, but it wasn't that cold.
Ten minutes later, it was getting that cold. I had a sweatshirt in my car, so I ran to get it. A little further redistribution of outerwear later, and we were fine. We stood shoulder to shoulder in the traditional damn-it's-cold circle, and I felt very much at home. So did the visiting Chicagoans, I imagine. One big table on the patio opened up shortly thereafter, and half the group, including our guests, went with apologies to the rest of us to sit down.
Fifteen minutes after that, we sent a messenger to the hostess to find out what our place in line was. She said the table next to the other half of our party was just finishing up, so it wouldn't be long. Fair enough. We reformed the huddle.
Ten minutes later and the people at our promised table were lingering over drinks. The huddle drifted slightly closer and we started to shoot glares at them.
Another ten minutes passed with no movement. The hostess apologized profusely, but there really wasn't anything she could do. She was very nice, really, and we all tried hard not to catch her in the crossfire of glaring.
Ten minutes later, the table finally picked up the check. We cheered very quietly. They started passing it around and obviously debating it. We followed it like spectators at a tennis match. One person pulled out his wallet and then rummaged through his pockets, and we groaned. We debated offering to cover the tip for them if they'd just go away, but decided to wait.
The seated half of the party had already gotten their food. We were still waiting. We were now leaning on the porch rail about ten feet from our adversaries and making no secret of our intense interest in their leavetaking. It took another ten minutes before they actually got up. As near as we could tell, they never noticed us at all.
At this point we were cold, hungry, and cranky. When we finally sat down, our other table immediately passed us their half-finished appetizers so we wouldn't faint. They were of course done with their meals before we got ours, but they graciously waited while we ate. It didn't take long. In the end, we were grateful that the two black belt candidates had decided to go home and retire early instead of joining us, and fervently hoped that the meal wasn't as memorable for our guests as it had been for our table.
I think this incident highlights the effectiveness of Sun Dragon's violence prevention training, because without that, there surely would have been a rumble. Help us prevent more restaurant riots by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Fourteen
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
We're two weeks in! Today's is going to be another housekeeping/status post because it's Tuesday, and that's apparently my right brain's contractually guaranteed day off.
First of all, thank you to everyone who has donated! It's much appreciated, and it's going to a good cause. If you haven't donated yet, please consider it! I'm only asking $5 (although people have been much more generous than that, for which I am grateful,) and while I know times are tight, I hope it's something you can manage. (Incidentally, I was totally serious about the wearing a Ninja Turtles headband if y'all chip in $1000 in total. Pass the links around to your friends, and you too can revel in your power to instigate absurd pictures!)
If rather than donating money, you or your organization would like to donate prizes, that would be just as welcome. We have students of all ages from kindergarten on up participating in the Kickathon, and we would love to reward all of their efforts in some small way. Also, we'll be recognizing companies that donate prizes on our website and at the Kickathon! Email me for more details about prize donation.
We've got quite a few more days, and therefore posts, until November 7th. That's a lot of topics! I have a handful in the queue, but if you have topic requests, by all means send them over! My email address is in the sidebar, and I'm happy to take requests and also answer questions, provide additional info about the school, etc.
Either tomorrow or Thursday I'm going to start something different - I have a short story that, while it is currently a glorious mess, I think I can thump into shape. It's about zombies and karate and nanomolecular body modifications. Because, you know, regular zombies are so last week. So that will most likely go up in three parts over this week/weekend, unless it just refuses to stop being awful, which is always a possibility.
Thanks again for everyone's support - I hope you're enjoying this little exercise. And don't forget to donate $5 to our fundraiser!
We're two weeks in! Today's is going to be another housekeeping/status post because it's Tuesday, and that's apparently my right brain's contractually guaranteed day off.
First of all, thank you to everyone who has donated! It's much appreciated, and it's going to a good cause. If you haven't donated yet, please consider it! I'm only asking $5 (although people have been much more generous than that, for which I am grateful,) and while I know times are tight, I hope it's something you can manage. (Incidentally, I was totally serious about the wearing a Ninja Turtles headband if y'all chip in $1000 in total. Pass the links around to your friends, and you too can revel in your power to instigate absurd pictures!)
If rather than donating money, you or your organization would like to donate prizes, that would be just as welcome. We have students of all ages from kindergarten on up participating in the Kickathon, and we would love to reward all of their efforts in some small way. Also, we'll be recognizing companies that donate prizes on our website and at the Kickathon! Email me for more details about prize donation.
We've got quite a few more days, and therefore posts, until November 7th. That's a lot of topics! I have a handful in the queue, but if you have topic requests, by all means send them over! My email address is in the sidebar, and I'm happy to take requests and also answer questions, provide additional info about the school, etc.
Either tomorrow or Thursday I'm going to start something different - I have a short story that, while it is currently a glorious mess, I think I can thump into shape. It's about zombies and karate and nanomolecular body modifications. Because, you know, regular zombies are so last week. So that will most likely go up in three parts over this week/weekend, unless it just refuses to stop being awful, which is always a possibility.
Thanks again for everyone's support - I hope you're enjoying this little exercise. And don't forget to donate $5 to our fundraiser!
Monday, October 19, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Thirteen
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
Here's the less-lovely thing about our dojo's lovely cork flooring - it's very smooth. Now that doesn't sound like a bad thing, and indeed most people seem to have little problem with it, but my feet sweat more than the usual amount, and in the summertime I just can't get a grip on it.
It started after we'd gotten the floor sealed. We had one practice before that, and that was more slippery than the rubber-mat-and-industrial-carpet flooring at the old place, but that was to be expected. The first day on the newly-sealed floor, though, I was slipping and sliding all over the place. I'd try to hold a stance and watch in panic as my feet slooowly slid apart, leaving me to choose whether to heave them back together or to end up in a very uncomfortable position on the floor.
When the second practice proved no better, I went home and googled for solutions to sweaty feet. The easiest seemed to be to coat my feet in aluminum-based antiperspirant, but that didn't seem feasible - I'd leave little antiperspirant footprints all over the nice new floor. On the hippier side of things, quite a few sites suggested I soak my feet in black tea every day for ten days, and it would shrink the sweat glands or something. Well, black tea is cheap, and it seemed worth a shot.
I got a box of plain, unflavored black tea, got out the big stew pot, boiled some water, steeped the tea, and stuck my feet in it. At this point I was working from home, so I could sit there fore the requisite 20 minutes with my laptop on my lap at any point during the day. I felt a little weird about it, and the cats clearly thought I was crazy, but it did make my feet smell nice, at least.
All the websites said it would take a least a week before it took effect, so in the meantime, I slid around the floor like a drunken penguin. At one point during a formal pair exercise I stepped forward to throw a punch and my foot just kept going - I ended up in a seriously uncomfortable half-split. Fortunately my partner was a black belt, long used to dodging the most ridiculously inept of attacks.
I kept soaking my feet in tea. I kept sliding around the floor. I took to carrying a little washrag tucked behind my belt to mop up the puddles, and my white gi pants turned gray below the knee from my frantic efforts to rub my feet dry in between exercises. My stances got shorter and I lived in fear of sliding the wrong direction and blowing out a knee.
Finally, the ten days were up. My feet were a strange yellow color, but they still sweated like mad. After the next practice I went humbly to my head instructor and asked permission to wear shoes. Now I stick to the floor almost too much, but at least my feet stay where I put them.
I have another pair of Vibrams for everyday use, and I get stopped on the street on a regular basis and asked about them. They're awesome! Thanks to everyone who has donated $5 to our fundraiser - we're not done yet! We've still got a long way to go.
Here's the less-lovely thing about our dojo's lovely cork flooring - it's very smooth. Now that doesn't sound like a bad thing, and indeed most people seem to have little problem with it, but my feet sweat more than the usual amount, and in the summertime I just can't get a grip on it.
It started after we'd gotten the floor sealed. We had one practice before that, and that was more slippery than the rubber-mat-and-industrial-carpet flooring at the old place, but that was to be expected. The first day on the newly-sealed floor, though, I was slipping and sliding all over the place. I'd try to hold a stance and watch in panic as my feet slooowly slid apart, leaving me to choose whether to heave them back together or to end up in a very uncomfortable position on the floor.
When the second practice proved no better, I went home and googled for solutions to sweaty feet. The easiest seemed to be to coat my feet in aluminum-based antiperspirant, but that didn't seem feasible - I'd leave little antiperspirant footprints all over the nice new floor. On the hippier side of things, quite a few sites suggested I soak my feet in black tea every day for ten days, and it would shrink the sweat glands or something. Well, black tea is cheap, and it seemed worth a shot.
I got a box of plain, unflavored black tea, got out the big stew pot, boiled some water, steeped the tea, and stuck my feet in it. At this point I was working from home, so I could sit there fore the requisite 20 minutes with my laptop on my lap at any point during the day. I felt a little weird about it, and the cats clearly thought I was crazy, but it did make my feet smell nice, at least.
All the websites said it would take a least a week before it took effect, so in the meantime, I slid around the floor like a drunken penguin. At one point during a formal pair exercise I stepped forward to throw a punch and my foot just kept going - I ended up in a seriously uncomfortable half-split. Fortunately my partner was a black belt, long used to dodging the most ridiculously inept of attacks.
I kept soaking my feet in tea. I kept sliding around the floor. I took to carrying a little washrag tucked behind my belt to mop up the puddles, and my white gi pants turned gray below the knee from my frantic efforts to rub my feet dry in between exercises. My stances got shorter and I lived in fear of sliding the wrong direction and blowing out a knee.
Finally, the ten days were up. My feet were a strange yellow color, but they still sweated like mad. After the next practice I went humbly to my head instructor and asked permission to wear shoes. Now I stick to the floor almost too much, but at least my feet stay where I put them.
I have another pair of Vibrams for everyday use, and I get stopped on the street on a regular basis and asked about them. They're awesome! Thanks to everyone who has donated $5 to our fundraiser - we're not done yet! We've still got a long way to go.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Twelve
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
The other obvious 80s influence in my interest in martial arts (and my interest in silly headgear) is The Karate Kid. This one had some unfortunate side effects.
My regular after-school babysitter, Heather, was my favorite, largely because she put up with nearly all of my more rambunctious ideas. Every so often, if I hadn't exhausted her yet, we'd go into the living room and move everything breakable away, and we'd... well, I'd say we sparred if I had known what I was doing - and if she was doing anything other than humoring me. Sometimes she'd teach me a little tumbling, but mostly I tried to hit her and she tried not to wince when I did.
Anyway, after seeing The Karate Kid I was inspired. I asked Heather if I could try out the crane kick that looked so cool when performed on a pole on the beach at sunrise. She said, sure, go ahead. So I hoisted one knee up, got my balance, jumped, and kicked my poor babysitter right square in the crotch. She dropped like a rock.
I've never gotten kicked solidly in the groin like that, but if Heather's whimpers were anything to go by, it hurts quite a bit, even for women. She stayed in the fetal position for a good three or four minutes, and when she finally uncurled, I knew playtime was over. But I also knew something more important - the movie was right! That move WORKED.
It's always amused me that when setting a pick in basketball, women stand with their arms crossed over their chest, and men cross their hands over their crotch. Priorities, I guess. Won't you please donate $5 to our fundraiser? I won't threaten to kick you in the crotch if you don't, but you know, I could...
The other obvious 80s influence in my interest in martial arts (and my interest in silly headgear) is The Karate Kid. This one had some unfortunate side effects.
My regular after-school babysitter, Heather, was my favorite, largely because she put up with nearly all of my more rambunctious ideas. Every so often, if I hadn't exhausted her yet, we'd go into the living room and move everything breakable away, and we'd... well, I'd say we sparred if I had known what I was doing - and if she was doing anything other than humoring me. Sometimes she'd teach me a little tumbling, but mostly I tried to hit her and she tried not to wince when I did.
Anyway, after seeing The Karate Kid I was inspired. I asked Heather if I could try out the crane kick that looked so cool when performed on a pole on the beach at sunrise. She said, sure, go ahead. So I hoisted one knee up, got my balance, jumped, and kicked my poor babysitter right square in the crotch. She dropped like a rock.
I've never gotten kicked solidly in the groin like that, but if Heather's whimpers were anything to go by, it hurts quite a bit, even for women. She stayed in the fetal position for a good three or four minutes, and when she finally uncurled, I knew playtime was over. But I also knew something more important - the movie was right! That move WORKED.
It's always amused me that when setting a pick in basketball, women stand with their arms crossed over their chest, and men cross their hands over their crotch. Priorities, I guess. Won't you please donate $5 to our fundraiser? I won't threaten to kick you in the crotch if you don't, but you know, I could...
Saturday, October 17, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Eleven
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
My interest in the martial arts probably started with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Yeah, I'm a child of the eighties. I honestly can't remember where I came across them, but when I did, I was instantly hooked. And not really to the TV show, either - no, I got all the action figures and made up wild adventures for them, and admired their little plastic weapons, and wanted a full-size set of my own. And then there were the Thundercats, who were also pretty awesome and kicked bad-guy ass in a variety of ways. Maybe I'm lucky to have developed a taste for martial arts and not for furries, eh?
Then there were the video games. I had one, an off-brand fighting game with no fireballs or crazy hairstyles, just guys in black belts kicking and punching, that I played for hours. It wasn't even a very fun game - if you held the down arrow and hit 'B' as fast as you could, you'd win most fights because the AI just wasn't very smart. But it was karate, and therefore it was awesome. (Not as awesome as Tetris - I wasn't dumb, after all - but awesome.) And when Nintendo Power sent the issue with the extended Ninja Gaiden walkthrough, with the little asides about the history of nijitsu, I ate it up. I clearly remember lying in front of the TV reading about caltrops while Father Dowling solved some mystery with his wisecracking nun sidekick. Yeah, child of the 80s for sure.
I wanted to take martial arts lessons, even then. The Park District offered them - it wasn't far, and it wasn't expensive. My parents didn't exactly disapprove... but they didn't encourage it, either. There was baseball, after all. And soccer. And Hebrew school. None of this prevented me from dressing up like a ninja three years running for Halloween, but it definitely made it easy to push back actually taking classes. By the time I got to high school, I was so thoroughly scheduled with after-school sports that there wasn't any room anyway.
Even so, when my cousin, who was always cooler than I was, got to take Tae Kwon Do, I was crazy jealous. I believe he made it to brown belt - maybe to black. I remember him showing me how he tied his belt, one trip up to see the extended family. You had to wrap it carefully and tie it just so. I was terribly impressed.
This wasn't really going anywhere in particular - it's Saturday night, and I've had some wine. But I'd love to hear from other martial artists - what got you into it? Was it TMNT as well? Or did you have, like, a respectable influence?
I am still sort of disappointed that I don't have an excuse to wear a headband with eyeholes in it to class. Maybe I can make that a bonus - if y'all donate $1000 total to our fundraiser, I'll make myself a ninja turtle headband and post the pics online. What do you say?
My interest in the martial arts probably started with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Yeah, I'm a child of the eighties. I honestly can't remember where I came across them, but when I did, I was instantly hooked. And not really to the TV show, either - no, I got all the action figures and made up wild adventures for them, and admired their little plastic weapons, and wanted a full-size set of my own. And then there were the Thundercats, who were also pretty awesome and kicked bad-guy ass in a variety of ways. Maybe I'm lucky to have developed a taste for martial arts and not for furries, eh?
Then there were the video games. I had one, an off-brand fighting game with no fireballs or crazy hairstyles, just guys in black belts kicking and punching, that I played for hours. It wasn't even a very fun game - if you held the down arrow and hit 'B' as fast as you could, you'd win most fights because the AI just wasn't very smart. But it was karate, and therefore it was awesome. (Not as awesome as Tetris - I wasn't dumb, after all - but awesome.) And when Nintendo Power sent the issue with the extended Ninja Gaiden walkthrough, with the little asides about the history of nijitsu, I ate it up. I clearly remember lying in front of the TV reading about caltrops while Father Dowling solved some mystery with his wisecracking nun sidekick. Yeah, child of the 80s for sure.
I wanted to take martial arts lessons, even then. The Park District offered them - it wasn't far, and it wasn't expensive. My parents didn't exactly disapprove... but they didn't encourage it, either. There was baseball, after all. And soccer. And Hebrew school. None of this prevented me from dressing up like a ninja three years running for Halloween, but it definitely made it easy to push back actually taking classes. By the time I got to high school, I was so thoroughly scheduled with after-school sports that there wasn't any room anyway.
Even so, when my cousin, who was always cooler than I was, got to take Tae Kwon Do, I was crazy jealous. I believe he made it to brown belt - maybe to black. I remember him showing me how he tied his belt, one trip up to see the extended family. You had to wrap it carefully and tie it just so. I was terribly impressed.
This wasn't really going anywhere in particular - it's Saturday night, and I've had some wine. But I'd love to hear from other martial artists - what got you into it? Was it TMNT as well? Or did you have, like, a respectable influence?
I am still sort of disappointed that I don't have an excuse to wear a headband with eyeholes in it to class. Maybe I can make that a bonus - if y'all donate $1000 total to our fundraiser, I'll make myself a ninja turtle headband and post the pics online. What do you say?
Friday, October 16, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Ten
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
I was 19 and had just moved to Austin, and things looked rosy until the dot-com bubble popped. Then the little startup I was working for started to have some funding issues, and I started to get nervous, so I bailed. I didn't have a new job lined up, but hey, I was 19 and invincible.
I found an ad in the paper offering a job for $60k a year after the training period. Sounded too good to be true, but I sent them my resume, got an interview, and went downtown to the fancy office building to meet with the recruiter. It was a real office, with a real recruiter. But the catch was the training wasn't free - it cost $2500 or so for a four-week certification class, money I definitely didn't have. But I talked it over with my mom, and the contract they offered looked pretty solid - offer of employment contingent upon finishing the class - and Mom offered to pay for it.
The company was called Linuxgruven, and they were taking everyone for a ride. They didn't have income beyond what prospective employees would pay for the class, and after a week of class, the owners took off for a tropical island with everyone's money (and paychecks) and there was no more class for me. I had the basic one-week cert (a little card that proclaimed that I could install Linux without setting anything on fire) and nothing else - no job, no prospects, and no way to pay my long-suffering mother back except to forward her the letter from the MO Attorney General who wanted to sue the pants off those people.
I don't bitch much about this one because eventually I got a good job at Dell and I sure whipped out that overpriced certification when I interviewed. But it was definitely a learning experience. In writing circles there's a concept called Yog's Law - money flows towards the writer. If it doesn't (if an agent or a publisher is charging up-front fees) there's a good chance the outfit you're talking to is a scam. In this case, the money wasn't flowing towards the employee, and guess what, it was a scam! (Just requiring a certification isn't a sign of a scam, of course, but I'd be very leery of the ones that want you to pay them to certify you first.)
There are a lot of people out there who would like to take your money without giving you much or anything back in return. Keeping a firm eye on where the money is actually flowing, vs. where you were promised it would flow, is a good rule of thumb. And practicing saying "No," asking questions, and being comfortable walking away are all critical skills to have when things start to look iffy. I lost some of Mom's money on this deal, but much worse things can happen if you aren't keeping an eye on your own well-being.
Ten days in, and I'm wandering pretty far afield of my topics. This is going to get interesting! But I'll keep getting weirder until all of you have donated $5 to our fundraiser!
I was 19 and had just moved to Austin, and things looked rosy until the dot-com bubble popped. Then the little startup I was working for started to have some funding issues, and I started to get nervous, so I bailed. I didn't have a new job lined up, but hey, I was 19 and invincible.
I found an ad in the paper offering a job for $60k a year after the training period. Sounded too good to be true, but I sent them my resume, got an interview, and went downtown to the fancy office building to meet with the recruiter. It was a real office, with a real recruiter. But the catch was the training wasn't free - it cost $2500 or so for a four-week certification class, money I definitely didn't have. But I talked it over with my mom, and the contract they offered looked pretty solid - offer of employment contingent upon finishing the class - and Mom offered to pay for it.
The company was called Linuxgruven, and they were taking everyone for a ride. They didn't have income beyond what prospective employees would pay for the class, and after a week of class, the owners took off for a tropical island with everyone's money (and paychecks) and there was no more class for me. I had the basic one-week cert (a little card that proclaimed that I could install Linux without setting anything on fire) and nothing else - no job, no prospects, and no way to pay my long-suffering mother back except to forward her the letter from the MO Attorney General who wanted to sue the pants off those people.
I don't bitch much about this one because eventually I got a good job at Dell and I sure whipped out that overpriced certification when I interviewed. But it was definitely a learning experience. In writing circles there's a concept called Yog's Law - money flows towards the writer. If it doesn't (if an agent or a publisher is charging up-front fees) there's a good chance the outfit you're talking to is a scam. In this case, the money wasn't flowing towards the employee, and guess what, it was a scam! (Just requiring a certification isn't a sign of a scam, of course, but I'd be very leery of the ones that want you to pay them to certify you first.)
There are a lot of people out there who would like to take your money without giving you much or anything back in return. Keeping a firm eye on where the money is actually flowing, vs. where you were promised it would flow, is a good rule of thumb. And practicing saying "No," asking questions, and being comfortable walking away are all critical skills to have when things start to look iffy. I lost some of Mom's money on this deal, but much worse things can happen if you aren't keeping an eye on your own well-being.
Ten days in, and I'm wandering pretty far afield of my topics. This is going to get interesting! But I'll keep getting weirder until all of you have donated $5 to our fundraiser!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Nine
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
One of the most difficult exercises in the last self-defense class I took at Sun Dragon was one I really didn't expect would be hard. It was a very simple exercise: pair up, and take turns asking each other things. Questions, requests, whatever. The other person says "No." That's it.
Sounds really easy, doesn't it? And indeed, the first several questions weren't difficult at all - the hard part was coming up with things to ask. We were just supposed to say "no" without apologizing, explaining, smiling, or any of the other culturally-ingrained behaviors that people - and especially women - are so prone to do. But then I got thrown for a loop. My partner asked, "Do these glasses look good on me?"
And wow, I couldn't do it. I don't consider myself a habitual flatterer, or even a particularly nice person. I very seldom notice other people's appearance, and only rarely does it occur to me to comment on it. But I still hit all of the ingrained making-nice behaviors before I managed to get out a "no" - blushed, dropped my eyes, smiled weakly. It was startling.
Not that I was reluctant to be overtly rude, really. That's one situation where I have no problem with a little white lie, if necessary. No, what was startling was how fast my reaction was, and how hard it was to control even when I was consciously watching for it and trying to stifle it. I know exactly what I would have done if not under specific instructions - smiled and said "yeah, they look great!"
That particular instinctive reaction would probably have been the appropriate one, most of the time. But what happens when I have that reaction to a less-harmless question? It was a great exercise, because now I can sort of tell, if I'm paying attention, to what that embarrassed smile feels like, and when I drop my eyes, and what that means - and maybe I will be able to tell when I should be looking someone dead in the eye and saying "No!" instead.
It's actually sort of refreshing to stand around for a few minutes saying "No!" to everything like a petulant toddler. Help us bring this perverse pleasure to more people - and particularly women - by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
One of the most difficult exercises in the last self-defense class I took at Sun Dragon was one I really didn't expect would be hard. It was a very simple exercise: pair up, and take turns asking each other things. Questions, requests, whatever. The other person says "No." That's it.
Sounds really easy, doesn't it? And indeed, the first several questions weren't difficult at all - the hard part was coming up with things to ask. We were just supposed to say "no" without apologizing, explaining, smiling, or any of the other culturally-ingrained behaviors that people - and especially women - are so prone to do. But then I got thrown for a loop. My partner asked, "Do these glasses look good on me?"
And wow, I couldn't do it. I don't consider myself a habitual flatterer, or even a particularly nice person. I very seldom notice other people's appearance, and only rarely does it occur to me to comment on it. But I still hit all of the ingrained making-nice behaviors before I managed to get out a "no" - blushed, dropped my eyes, smiled weakly. It was startling.
Not that I was reluctant to be overtly rude, really. That's one situation where I have no problem with a little white lie, if necessary. No, what was startling was how fast my reaction was, and how hard it was to control even when I was consciously watching for it and trying to stifle it. I know exactly what I would have done if not under specific instructions - smiled and said "yeah, they look great!"
That particular instinctive reaction would probably have been the appropriate one, most of the time. But what happens when I have that reaction to a less-harmless question? It was a great exercise, because now I can sort of tell, if I'm paying attention, to what that embarrassed smile feels like, and when I drop my eyes, and what that means - and maybe I will be able to tell when I should be looking someone dead in the eye and saying "No!" instead.
It's actually sort of refreshing to stand around for a few minutes saying "No!" to everything like a petulant toddler. Help us bring this perverse pleasure to more people - and particularly women - by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Eight
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
I've been sick the last couple of days, so today I just want to do a little status update. We're a third of the way to our overall fundraising goal, but we have only three weeks left. We've still got a ways to go. If you've been reading and enjoying these posts, I'd like you to please consider pitching in - I'm only asking for $5.
My own goal is fairly arbitrary - I'm perfectly happy if you choose to donate to someone other than me. And as a matter of fact, if my dojo-mates want to link these posts to their friends with their own donation pages attached, that's fine by me!
Thanks for reading, and hopefully by tomorrow I'll be coherent enough to write something interesting.
Self-defense training isn't just about learning how to punch people in the head. It's about learning how to recognize bad situations, avoid them if possible, and get out of them in the minimum number of pieces if not. Help us provide this training to more people - and particularly women - by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
I've been sick the last couple of days, so today I just want to do a little status update. We're a third of the way to our overall fundraising goal, but we have only three weeks left. We've still got a ways to go. If you've been reading and enjoying these posts, I'd like you to please consider pitching in - I'm only asking for $5.
My own goal is fairly arbitrary - I'm perfectly happy if you choose to donate to someone other than me. And as a matter of fact, if my dojo-mates want to link these posts to their friends with their own donation pages attached, that's fine by me!
Thanks for reading, and hopefully by tomorrow I'll be coherent enough to write something interesting.
Self-defense training isn't just about learning how to punch people in the head. It's about learning how to recognize bad situations, avoid them if possible, and get out of them in the minimum number of pieces if not. Help us provide this training to more people - and particularly women - by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
My Life and Karate, Day Seven
My dojo, Sun Dragon Martial Arts and Self Defense, is running its major yearly fundraiser. We're a nonprofit martial arts studio, which is something of a rare beast, and we raise money every year for our scholarship fund and the free self-defense classes we offer in the community. For my part, every day until the day of the Kickathon, I will write a random amusing anecdote about karate and self-defense - enjoy!
Several years ago, I decided to try the whole internet dating thing. This was in the Spring Street Network era, before eHarmony and OKCupid. I was looking for fun, maybe a little play, but definitely not a serious relationship. This led me to some... interesting people. And some good lessons in self-defense.
I can't remember if this woman was the first or second real-life date. She was, if I remember correctly, about 35 (I was 22,) a massage therapist, and interested in astrology. We exchanged a couple of emails, which went tolerably well, spoke on the phone for a few minutes, which didn't go horribly, and made a date to meet at a coffee shop. I gave her my birthday so she could do my horoscope, which sounded like a good pretext to talk.
I wasn't entirely thrilled by her, but I wasn't entirely repulsed, either. The horoscope was moderately interesting, and she was not unattractive, except she had a habit of smacking her lips every minute or so. I found that so thoroughly distracting that when we got to talking about massage, and she offered to give me a free one at her office - just a few streets away - I said yes.
We took separate cars - I wasn't that dumb, even then. I didn't find her physically threatening, but as I drove to her office my instincts were growing increasingly unhappy with the plan. I decided to go ahead, though - because I said I'd do it, and dammit, I'd do it.
Let me perhaps spoil the tension of the narrative by saying now that it really was her office, and that she really did give me a massage. Not a spectacular massage - she seemed a little distracted - but she made the effort. When she finished with my back and I rolled over, she kissed me. I remember the train of thought very clearly.
"Um. This isn't all that fun. It's not really her fault, though, and I did say I wanted some play. No, you know what? This isn't fun. I'm done here."
I disengaged, said something vague about not really being over my last relationship after all, and bailed. She was obviously disappointed, but didn't press the issue.
Which, you know, was nice. Because I had put myself in a really crappy position, in terms of safety. I was on her turf, in an office building after 9pm with no one around, and if things had gotten ugly I wouldn't have had very many options.
So there were a couple of learning experiences here - number one, if your gut says bail, bail and don't worry about manners - or pride. That's the one I did wrong. Number two, if you're not having fun, get out, move on, and don't worry about the other person. That's the one I did right. I am still glad I didn't let that scene go any further, and I'm sure she got over the disappointment almost immediately.
So yeah, this one probably wasn't very amusing, but these are topics that aren't always funny.
Self-defense training isn't just about learning how to punch people in the head. It's about learning how to recognize bad situations, avoid them if possible, and get out of them in the minimum number of pieces if not. Help us provide this training to more people - and particularly women - by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
Several years ago, I decided to try the whole internet dating thing. This was in the Spring Street Network era, before eHarmony and OKCupid. I was looking for fun, maybe a little play, but definitely not a serious relationship. This led me to some... interesting people. And some good lessons in self-defense.
I can't remember if this woman was the first or second real-life date. She was, if I remember correctly, about 35 (I was 22,) a massage therapist, and interested in astrology. We exchanged a couple of emails, which went tolerably well, spoke on the phone for a few minutes, which didn't go horribly, and made a date to meet at a coffee shop. I gave her my birthday so she could do my horoscope, which sounded like a good pretext to talk.
I wasn't entirely thrilled by her, but I wasn't entirely repulsed, either. The horoscope was moderately interesting, and she was not unattractive, except she had a habit of smacking her lips every minute or so. I found that so thoroughly distracting that when we got to talking about massage, and she offered to give me a free one at her office - just a few streets away - I said yes.
We took separate cars - I wasn't that dumb, even then. I didn't find her physically threatening, but as I drove to her office my instincts were growing increasingly unhappy with the plan. I decided to go ahead, though - because I said I'd do it, and dammit, I'd do it.
Let me perhaps spoil the tension of the narrative by saying now that it really was her office, and that she really did give me a massage. Not a spectacular massage - she seemed a little distracted - but she made the effort. When she finished with my back and I rolled over, she kissed me. I remember the train of thought very clearly.
"Um. This isn't all that fun. It's not really her fault, though, and I did say I wanted some play. No, you know what? This isn't fun. I'm done here."
I disengaged, said something vague about not really being over my last relationship after all, and bailed. She was obviously disappointed, but didn't press the issue.
Which, you know, was nice. Because I had put myself in a really crappy position, in terms of safety. I was on her turf, in an office building after 9pm with no one around, and if things had gotten ugly I wouldn't have had very many options.
So there were a couple of learning experiences here - number one, if your gut says bail, bail and don't worry about manners - or pride. That's the one I did wrong. Number two, if you're not having fun, get out, move on, and don't worry about the other person. That's the one I did right. I am still glad I didn't let that scene go any further, and I'm sure she got over the disappointment almost immediately.
So yeah, this one probably wasn't very amusing, but these are topics that aren't always funny.
Self-defense training isn't just about learning how to punch people in the head. It's about learning how to recognize bad situations, avoid them if possible, and get out of them in the minimum number of pieces if not. Help us provide this training to more people - and particularly women - by donating $5 to our fundraiser!
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