Something weird is in the air today.
So, I'm at lunch with my buddy Baba. Just the two of us, and we're having a semi-animated discussion of the film "Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room." We're eating at Pluckers, this chicken wings place we frequent at least once a week, usually twice. Awesome wings.
But I digress.
So, as we're talking, suddenly a large-ish woman, 30s-40s, plants herself down right beside me in the booth, puts her arm around me, and pulls me in close in a semi-hug. I know lots of folks at this restaurant, so I reflexively half-hug her back, assuming it's one of the folks I know, before getting a look at her and realizing ....
Ummmm. No idea who this person is.
So, anyway, it's not like I've never been snuggled by complete strangers. It's just unusual for a Tuesday afternoon in broad daylight without any alcohol involved. So I'm like "Hi" and she's like "Hi! I just had to ask you a question!"
So I say "OK, shoot." And she says, quietly in my ear, with a big smile on her face "So, are you the kind of guy that likes to pull a woman's hair and spank her ass hard in bed? Cause you look like that kind of guy to me!"
I admit, I was a bit ... at a loss. But I recovered.
"Well ... no. It's not really my thing. I'm not physically aggressive in the bedroom. But I mean, if people are into that that's cool. As long as everybody is on-board, you know?" And she says "Oh, really?" and I say "Yeah, really. It's not really my thing." And she says "Cause I really thought you looked like the kind of guy that would be into hair pulling and ass slapping! OK, bye!"
And she got up, stopped to hug one of the servers, Brent, on the way out, and left.
Now, Baba is sitting across from me, with a quizzical sort of "what was that all about?" look on his face, as she hadn't spoken loud enough for him to hear: he'd only heard my "not aggressive in the bedroom" comment which is certainly a perplexing, if engaging, snippet to work with. So I explain quickly (his eyes sort of went "huh?") and then I waved Brent over. After all, I assumed he must have put her up to it.
"Hey Brent! So, listen, who's that girl?"
"Oh, her? She's ... well, she's crazy is who she is."
"So, wait. You didn't send her over to ask me something?" And he's like "uhhhhh.... no."
So I filled him in and he just about dropped his tray. Nope, he absolutely had nothing to do with it. She's just kind of a local wackjob who apparently wanted me to ... well ... pull her hair and slap her ass a bunch, I guess. In bed. Not that there's anything wrong with that, if it's your thing. But me? Nah. Not so much. I'm vanilla, baby.
But I apparently throw a "mad crazy hair pulling ass slapping" kinda vibe. Whoodathunkit?
Mood: Bemused, in a surreal sort of way
Now Playing: Kate Bush, "The Sensual World"
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Official Invitation / Self-Doubts and Vanity
I've officially been invited to test for my orange belt on March 25th. Got my invitation, along with a Tang Soo Do Mi Guk Kwan Association membership enrollment sheet and copy of the white belt test score sheet (for my reference in practicing and preparing for the exam I assume) at the end of class last night. I also received a paper assignment that must be completed and turned in to Sa Bom Nim Nunan before the test: "What Tang Soo Do means to me." Fairly open-ended, which is of course the worst sort of paper for me, since I tend to over-analyze everything and will now spend an absurd amount of time addressing what is ultimately a fairly simple topic. I should just jot down the URL of this blog and tell him to start reading in mid-to-late December 2005 and judge for himself.
It's funny: While I'm excited (and nervous) to be testing soon, I was kind of bummed out when I received my invitation because I was just having a really "off" night at class last night. I wanted my first invitation to be the high point of a great night, but instead my energy was really low, I had a lot of trouble staying focused, and I was getting bent out of shape about silly stuff.
We had two new white belts in the class and I kept getting caught up in all sorts of negative thinking about myself while working out with them, mostly because they were already doing the basic line drills that I really stumbled on early on (low block, high block) without any problems. What's really stupid is that I shouldn't be surprised that they are catching on quickly -- both of these women have kids who have been studying Tang Soo Do for years, so they have been repeatedly exposed to these techniques for a long time. More important, I shouldn't be concerned about their performance vs. my own. I should be happy for their gains and not sit here comparing them against myself. It's foolishness and vanity.
And yet I kept getting this sense of frustration and self-doubt, wondering why they were doing so much better at these moves than I felt I did at the same point in my training. Wasting energy and focus on something completely inconsequential. Honestly, I don't even know that they were doing better than I did on my first lessons. They may have been messing up left and right. It's not like I was staring at them and judging their performance. I wasn't really watching them so much as going all internal and negative on myself.
And then there was another issue, with a young student (11 going on 12 -- he trains with the adults due to some pretty serious ADHD issues that would be heavily disruptive to a kids/teens class) whom I outrank accidentally being placed ahead of me in rank last night. This student has a yellow belt, which is not a "real" Tang Soo Do belt. He comes to our school with some previous training from another discipline (Tae Kwan Do I believe) and the yellow belt signifies this previous training. But now that I've received my second stripe Sa Bom Nim considers my rank to be higher than his assumed cross-rank.
Unfortunately, Mr. Pfaff (our instructor last night) did not know that Sa Bom Nim had made this decision and placed this student ahead of me in the lineup. I didn't want to contradict Mr. Pfaff on the mat, so I let it slide and hoped that my classmate would correct the error. But he's a kid so needless to say he didn't speak up either. At first I tried to just do the techniques and not worry, but as the class wore on and I was being given really simple line exercises while the "colored belts" were being given more interesting combinations to try -- nearly all of which I was capable of performing, and few-to-none of which my classmate was performing correctly -- I felt angry. Which, needless to say, screwed up my performance on the simpler tasks I was being given, which added to my frustration, which further eroded my focus and performance, and so on.
So by the end of the class I was just a wreck. I had managed to blow nearly all of my defensive turns during line drills (I kept turning them into offensive turns), my stances were all over the place, my preparations on punches were sloppy. You name it, I was messing it up. Simple, simple stuff that I've been doing correctly for 2 months suddenly was tripping me up left and right. Finally, at the end of class I managed to get myself a bit more pulled-together, when were started doing some advancing kick combinations, but all in all my performance for the night was quite poor.
And that's when I get invited to test. And of course, that's when that negative little voice in the back of my head pipes in "Man, he must not have been watching you tonight. He'd have shredded that invitation then and there...."
Which is, of course, completely not true. My skills, my training are more than one bad night in the dojang. I know I've earned the privilege of testing for my next belt. I wish I knew why these doubts, this reflexive need to compare myself against everyone else are surfacing so strongly right now.
So anyway, once my classmate left and I had a private moment with Sa Bom Nim and Mr. Pfaff I asked about the rank issue and cleared that up. Mr. Pfaff was very apologetic -- which made me feel like kind of a shit, because while I told myself I was just clearing things up and didn't want to confuse my classmate, I knew deep down that what I really wanted was validation for the way I'd felt during class. I wanted someone to know that my nose was out of joint and to make me feel like it was justified. His apology satisfied that selfish need, and I immediately realized that what drove my attitude the whole night, that what messed me up repeatedly was nothing more than pettiness, pure and simple.
I hope that recognizing this will help me avoid it more in the future.
Mood: Reflective, Somber
Now Playing: Thomas Newman, "The Road to Perdition"
It's funny: While I'm excited (and nervous) to be testing soon, I was kind of bummed out when I received my invitation because I was just having a really "off" night at class last night. I wanted my first invitation to be the high point of a great night, but instead my energy was really low, I had a lot of trouble staying focused, and I was getting bent out of shape about silly stuff.
We had two new white belts in the class and I kept getting caught up in all sorts of negative thinking about myself while working out with them, mostly because they were already doing the basic line drills that I really stumbled on early on (low block, high block) without any problems. What's really stupid is that I shouldn't be surprised that they are catching on quickly -- both of these women have kids who have been studying Tang Soo Do for years, so they have been repeatedly exposed to these techniques for a long time. More important, I shouldn't be concerned about their performance vs. my own. I should be happy for their gains and not sit here comparing them against myself. It's foolishness and vanity.
And yet I kept getting this sense of frustration and self-doubt, wondering why they were doing so much better at these moves than I felt I did at the same point in my training. Wasting energy and focus on something completely inconsequential. Honestly, I don't even know that they were doing better than I did on my first lessons. They may have been messing up left and right. It's not like I was staring at them and judging their performance. I wasn't really watching them so much as going all internal and negative on myself.
And then there was another issue, with a young student (11 going on 12 -- he trains with the adults due to some pretty serious ADHD issues that would be heavily disruptive to a kids/teens class) whom I outrank accidentally being placed ahead of me in rank last night. This student has a yellow belt, which is not a "real" Tang Soo Do belt. He comes to our school with some previous training from another discipline (Tae Kwan Do I believe) and the yellow belt signifies this previous training. But now that I've received my second stripe Sa Bom Nim considers my rank to be higher than his assumed cross-rank.
Unfortunately, Mr. Pfaff (our instructor last night) did not know that Sa Bom Nim had made this decision and placed this student ahead of me in the lineup. I didn't want to contradict Mr. Pfaff on the mat, so I let it slide and hoped that my classmate would correct the error. But he's a kid so needless to say he didn't speak up either. At first I tried to just do the techniques and not worry, but as the class wore on and I was being given really simple line exercises while the "colored belts" were being given more interesting combinations to try -- nearly all of which I was capable of performing, and few-to-none of which my classmate was performing correctly -- I felt angry. Which, needless to say, screwed up my performance on the simpler tasks I was being given, which added to my frustration, which further eroded my focus and performance, and so on.
So by the end of the class I was just a wreck. I had managed to blow nearly all of my defensive turns during line drills (I kept turning them into offensive turns), my stances were all over the place, my preparations on punches were sloppy. You name it, I was messing it up. Simple, simple stuff that I've been doing correctly for 2 months suddenly was tripping me up left and right. Finally, at the end of class I managed to get myself a bit more pulled-together, when were started doing some advancing kick combinations, but all in all my performance for the night was quite poor.
And that's when I get invited to test. And of course, that's when that negative little voice in the back of my head pipes in "Man, he must not have been watching you tonight. He'd have shredded that invitation then and there...."
Which is, of course, completely not true. My skills, my training are more than one bad night in the dojang. I know I've earned the privilege of testing for my next belt. I wish I knew why these doubts, this reflexive need to compare myself against everyone else are surfacing so strongly right now.
So anyway, once my classmate left and I had a private moment with Sa Bom Nim and Mr. Pfaff I asked about the rank issue and cleared that up. Mr. Pfaff was very apologetic -- which made me feel like kind of a shit, because while I told myself I was just clearing things up and didn't want to confuse my classmate, I knew deep down that what I really wanted was validation for the way I'd felt during class. I wanted someone to know that my nose was out of joint and to make me feel like it was justified. His apology satisfied that selfish need, and I immediately realized that what drove my attitude the whole night, that what messed me up repeatedly was nothing more than pettiness, pure and simple.
I hope that recognizing this will help me avoid it more in the future.
Mood: Reflective, Somber
Now Playing: Thomas Newman, "The Road to Perdition"
Monday, March 06, 2006
Confidence Grows
The last couple of weeks my confidence in my Tang Soo Do abilities has been shaken up a bit. Not for any external reason at all -- my instructors and classmates continue to encourage me at every turn, and I feel completely ready to successfully test for my orange belt. But my inherent lack of confidence continues to pop up whenever I watch the red and midnight blue belts work out at the dojang. After my last advanced class I decided I should sit down and talk with Sa Bom Nim Nunan sometime soon, let him know about these doubts and frustrations and concerns that tend to surface when I work out with the advanced students, if only to give him the opportunity to bolster my confidence a bit or guide me away from this negativity. Again, it's nothing rational -- I know I'm doing well for a student at my level, but watching advanced students can make me feel like a guy, climbing a steep cliff, who makes the mistake of looking down (or looking up, for that matter) a bit too often. It's not fear so much as it is feeling a bit overwhelmed by the enormity of what I've yet to learn.
But this weekend I at least got a brief moment of reassurance. As usual, the Saturday family class was somewhat less structured than the usual classes. The activities during these classes tend to be a bit more random, with our instructor (Mr. Vasquez, one of the senior dan members at the dojang) trying out training techniques to see what will engage all of the different ages/ranks that he has to deal with that day. Obviously, if you've got everything from green belt adults down to a not-even 6-year-old yellow-stripe Lil' Dragon on the mat at the same time, figuring out exercises that will work for everyone is a bit of a challenge. So things tend to sort of roll along at a more relaxed pace, with a bit more goofing around than would typically be permitted in a class with Sa Bom Nim.
So, after a nice lengthy warm-up we practiced some new (to me) kicking techniques that can be useful when sparring, which was fun if exhausting (lots of hopping in place -- really wears on the calves after a while). Then we did some kicks and elbows with pads for while, and then Mr. Vasquez broke out the rebreakable boards.
Now for whatever reason I've never gotten a chance to break a board of any sort in class. I broke a white rebreakable board during my first lesson -- it's a required part of earning the right to wear a white belt -- and it was a cinch. Strength is not a problem for me, plus I only had to use a hammer fist to break (basically the same motion as you'd make pounding your fist on a table) so technique wasn't a issue either. Plus, the white boards are the easiest to break -- the color coding of the boards go from white to black, the difficulty of the break following the belt color system, with black being the hardest to break.
So when Mr. Vasquez and his two assistant instructors (Mr. Kannan and Mr. McKee) brought out the rebreakable white and orange boards to punching and kicking practice I was excited -- Something new! Plus, I like hitting stuff. And within a few minutes it was pretty clear to everyone (including myself, for a change) that the white and orange boards weren't providing a whole lot of a challenge for me or the other adults in the class.
So, Mr. Vasquez decides it's time for the men in the class to see what they can do. Now, there was just me and one other guy, Mr. Malick, a green belt about my age who tore his ACL a few months back and has been going easy on his leg as a result. Strong as an ox with the good leg, though, and a solid fighter. So anyway, Mr. Vasquez tells everyone else in the class to sit in An Jo, and then, because I'm the junior student, I have to go first in what he's calling a spotlight challenge.
So then he pulls out a black rebreakable board and tells me I'm to try to break it with a side kick. Now, I don't know the force that is required for one of these boards, but it's considerable: the white board is rated at 22 PSI to break it -- that's the generally accepted amount of force necessary to break pretty much any bone in the human body -- and this board is 6 levels "harder" to break, whatever that means. Basically, two guys have to hold it with both hands when you try to break it, because that's how hard you have to hit it -- one guy would almost certainly be knocked backwards, and possibly hurt, by the force necessary to snap it.
So now I take a look at Mr. Kannan -- he knows how strong I am, and I can tell he's a bit nervous. And he has every right to be: I have no control yet. I worry, constantly, about hurting other folks while training or sparring because I know I could, if I'm not careful. So then he and Mr. McKee brace themselves and move the board into place. I smile and bow to let them know I'm ready. Mr. Kannan looks at me and says "Just please don't kick my hand." I take a deep breath, focus, step into a fighting stance and ...
... to my own surprise, as much as to anyone else's, I throw a textbook side kick with my right leg, right on target to the center of the board, breaking it easily. First try, first success. That applause felt really, really good. And I applauded Mr. Malick loud and long when he did the same thing a minute later.
Maybe I can do this, after all.
-=-
My confidence continued for a bit longer, with a fairly good bout of free sparring against Mr. McKee. He even complimented me on successfully using some of the new kicking techniques we learned at the beginning of class, and I was able to defend myself against nearly all of the punches and kicks he threw (he was using white belt level techniques, of course -- he was fighting down to my level). So that was exciting as well.
Of course, all good things must eventually come to an end: Next I had to spar Mr. Vasquez. And while I actually managed to get a shot or two through his defenses (weak and ineffectual shots, by and large, but at least they counted) our match was characterized by a) his repeatedly throwing kicks that seems to come out of nowhere and b) my attempt to block a kick using an outside-to-inside block, which resulted only in my steering his foot -- which had been headed toward my side -- directly into my crotch.
Whuff. Good thing he pulled the kick or I'd have been puking on the side of the mat for the last 15 minutes. Still, I was feeling pretty achey for the next 3 or 4 minutes. But I finished sparring and got through it. And I think I'll be more careful in how I block kicks next time. Accidentally inflicted pain can be a great learning technique.
Mood: Feelin' Good
Now Playing: Fishbone, "The Reality of My Surroundings"
But this weekend I at least got a brief moment of reassurance. As usual, the Saturday family class was somewhat less structured than the usual classes. The activities during these classes tend to be a bit more random, with our instructor (Mr. Vasquez, one of the senior dan members at the dojang) trying out training techniques to see what will engage all of the different ages/ranks that he has to deal with that day. Obviously, if you've got everything from green belt adults down to a not-even 6-year-old yellow-stripe Lil' Dragon on the mat at the same time, figuring out exercises that will work for everyone is a bit of a challenge. So things tend to sort of roll along at a more relaxed pace, with a bit more goofing around than would typically be permitted in a class with Sa Bom Nim.
So, after a nice lengthy warm-up we practiced some new (to me) kicking techniques that can be useful when sparring, which was fun if exhausting (lots of hopping in place -- really wears on the calves after a while). Then we did some kicks and elbows with pads for while, and then Mr. Vasquez broke out the rebreakable boards.
Now for whatever reason I've never gotten a chance to break a board of any sort in class. I broke a white rebreakable board during my first lesson -- it's a required part of earning the right to wear a white belt -- and it was a cinch. Strength is not a problem for me, plus I only had to use a hammer fist to break (basically the same motion as you'd make pounding your fist on a table) so technique wasn't a issue either. Plus, the white boards are the easiest to break -- the color coding of the boards go from white to black, the difficulty of the break following the belt color system, with black being the hardest to break.
So when Mr. Vasquez and his two assistant instructors (Mr. Kannan and Mr. McKee) brought out the rebreakable white and orange boards to punching and kicking practice I was excited -- Something new! Plus, I like hitting stuff. And within a few minutes it was pretty clear to everyone (including myself, for a change) that the white and orange boards weren't providing a whole lot of a challenge for me or the other adults in the class.
So, Mr. Vasquez decides it's time for the men in the class to see what they can do. Now, there was just me and one other guy, Mr. Malick, a green belt about my age who tore his ACL a few months back and has been going easy on his leg as a result. Strong as an ox with the good leg, though, and a solid fighter. So anyway, Mr. Vasquez tells everyone else in the class to sit in An Jo, and then, because I'm the junior student, I have to go first in what he's calling a spotlight challenge.
So then he pulls out a black rebreakable board and tells me I'm to try to break it with a side kick. Now, I don't know the force that is required for one of these boards, but it's considerable: the white board is rated at 22 PSI to break it -- that's the generally accepted amount of force necessary to break pretty much any bone in the human body -- and this board is 6 levels "harder" to break, whatever that means. Basically, two guys have to hold it with both hands when you try to break it, because that's how hard you have to hit it -- one guy would almost certainly be knocked backwards, and possibly hurt, by the force necessary to snap it.
So now I take a look at Mr. Kannan -- he knows how strong I am, and I can tell he's a bit nervous. And he has every right to be: I have no control yet. I worry, constantly, about hurting other folks while training or sparring because I know I could, if I'm not careful. So then he and Mr. McKee brace themselves and move the board into place. I smile and bow to let them know I'm ready. Mr. Kannan looks at me and says "Just please don't kick my hand." I take a deep breath, focus, step into a fighting stance and ...
... to my own surprise, as much as to anyone else's, I throw a textbook side kick with my right leg, right on target to the center of the board, breaking it easily. First try, first success. That applause felt really, really good. And I applauded Mr. Malick loud and long when he did the same thing a minute later.
Maybe I can do this, after all.
-=-
My confidence continued for a bit longer, with a fairly good bout of free sparring against Mr. McKee. He even complimented me on successfully using some of the new kicking techniques we learned at the beginning of class, and I was able to defend myself against nearly all of the punches and kicks he threw (he was using white belt level techniques, of course -- he was fighting down to my level). So that was exciting as well.
Of course, all good things must eventually come to an end: Next I had to spar Mr. Vasquez. And while I actually managed to get a shot or two through his defenses (weak and ineffectual shots, by and large, but at least they counted) our match was characterized by a) his repeatedly throwing kicks that seems to come out of nowhere and b) my attempt to block a kick using an outside-to-inside block, which resulted only in my steering his foot -- which had been headed toward my side -- directly into my crotch.
Whuff. Good thing he pulled the kick or I'd have been puking on the side of the mat for the last 15 minutes. Still, I was feeling pretty achey for the next 3 or 4 minutes. But I finished sparring and got through it. And I think I'll be more careful in how I block kicks next time. Accidentally inflicted pain can be a great learning technique.
Mood: Feelin' Good
Now Playing: Fishbone, "The Reality of My Surroundings"
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