Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Back to Kickboxing or Why I'm not good at one night stands

Training is still kicking my ass, but the end is in sight. Almost a full year of training. If I make it out alive I plan on celebrating by eating a full cheesecake.
And maybe jumping out of a plane.

Because of training, I haven't been to kickboxing or bootcamp in two months.

So yesterday I went back. Somehow I picked a day when I was the only girl. If I was better at math I could probably tell you what the odds of that happening were. Out of the six girls that go regularly.. I showed up.
Which means on my first day back in two months I had to work out with a boy. One I didn't know at that. Oh, and we had an odd number of people. So I had to work out with TWO boys. A threesome if you will. Trying to spar with three people instead of two is always difficult to manage. Trying to spar when all three are strangers... is down right impossible.

All of the above made me nervous. Cause kickboxing is kinda like sex.
Don't laugh. I'm serious.
I'll explain

Everyone's got different levels of experience. Some people have been going for months but their technique still sucks. Or their stamina is lacking. Some people have a natural talent. The Boy is one of those. :) A lot of people are just naturally uncoordinated. When you start out, you start with shadowboxing. By yourself. Just you and your hands, mimicking the real thing. Then when you've proven your not going to hurt yourself or someone else, you're allowed to start partnering up. At first you'll workout with anyone, anyone, you're just so grateful to not have to workout by yourself. Time passes and you start to realize that you like working out with certain people. That you click better with some people over others, that you can move faster, more fluid and hit harder with them. You develop favorites and you keep going back to them.

Yep, still talking about kickboxing.

So back to yesterday. None of the girls that I'm used to sparring with are there. I get paired up with two guys that I've never worked with before. And that's when I realized that training with a new person is kinda like a one night stand. It's a little awkward. They do something out of sync, you laugh to ease the tension, instead they get self conscious and so they hit harder, only harder isn't necessary better. I mean, sometimes it's better, but you have to be in the mood to be hit. And there kinda needs be a trust factor that doesn't come with strangers. I'm ok with exchanging hard blows, but only if I know someones not going to end up in tears. Because one of the guys was new, I ended up spending most of my workout explaining and showing him what he should be doing. I didn't get a very satisfying workout.

Still talking about kickboxing.

When the day ended I decided two things. 1)I like kickboxing. I really like kickboxing and I don't want to let two months go without doing it. 2)I'm not a big fan of one night stands. I mean working out with brand new people. It's too awkward, you don't get a good enough workout, you don't really learn new things and you ended up leaving unfulfilled, knowing it could have been better.

I mean, I like the idea of sparring with a stranger. Of meeting in a dark smokey ring, making eye contact, touching gloves and then pounding the shit out of each other. Not caring if you actually hurt him, actually being glad when they hit you too hard because it means you can hit them harder. Pushing each others skill level, breathing hard and wiping the sweat out of your eyes. Walking away, knowing you beat the shit out of each other and not really caring. Maybe you'll meet in the ring again, maybe not. I mean, I like that idea. I've just never been able to follow through with that.

I guess I'm just not that type of girl. I like workouts with people I have a relationship of some type with. I don't like hurting strangers. I actually care about peoples feelings. I like knowing their personality and being able to navigate the tricky parts with finesse. Knowing it's ok to laugh occasionally, it's ok to try a new jab, it's ok to mess up, and it's ok to sometimes take out aggression on them and then buy them a beer to make up for the bruises.

Still talking about kickboxing.

And I'm ok with that, being that type of girl.

Monday, September 27, 2010


“I do not consider you beautiful
because of what I see.

I consider you beautiful
because of what you do not let me see,
because it awakens
the desire and passion I have
for all that I do not know
that I want to feel
a part of me.”
~Leo Barella

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Hell on Earth

I've been putting it off.

Going to the MVD that is.

See, that fun little class I took that helped me accomplish my before thirty goal of getting my motorcycle license was almost all inclusive. It provided the classroom teaching, the classroom test, the motorcycle to ride, the training on how to ride said motorcycle and the actual riding test. What it did not include was actually putting the motorcycle endorsement on your license.

That requires actually going to the MVD.

As excited as I was about getting my motorcycle license... I still waited almost two months before going to the MVD. I hate that place that much.

But I decided that Monday I was going to screw my courage to the sticking place and go. I'm still on a night schedule thanks to work, so I took a nice little nap around eleven pm on Sunday night, woke up around two am on Monday and planned on staying up until after I finished with my errand. Around seven am I did my bi-monthly shopping trip, came home and cleaned. Took a shower. Took the dog for a walk.
And ran out of reasons to avoid the heinous and always evil MVD.

MVD opens at eight am. I decided to drive an extra thirty minutes and go to the one that I always went to in high school. I'm not sure why, it's not any newer or cleaner then the one in my city. But I knew that MVD and familiarity seemed like a much needed bonus.

Showing up at nine was a terrible idea. I should have been waiting in line at six am. I knew I was in for a wait, so I brought provisions. A 600 hundred page book (hopefully it would be long enough, a snack, water, ipod complete with games, music and two episodes of Rescue Me. What I forgot? A personal bubble with an electric perimeter.

Besides the hoards of people the first thing I noticed was the distinct lack of pretty people. If someone wasn't white trash they were obese. If they had clothes that matched then it was styled from the eighties. I saw green knee socks paired with blue shirts on 55 year old men with no teeth. I saw chest hair and gold chains. On Women. The one thing everyone had in common? A lack of shower or bath in years. years.

Now, something you should know about me. I have these weird little quirks about me. Like, I'm not much of a toucher. I'm very careful who I hug and don't believe that casual touch is normal. Human touch is a very intimate and personal thing for me. I don't like to share drinks, though food is fine. I can't bare to use public bathrooms for the most part. I'm convinced that milk goes bad three days before the expiration date.

And above all... Old people freak me the fuck out.

Guess what? Arizona is full of snowbirds. Who all have to go the MVD to get their Arizona license.
On a monday.
At nine am.
When I'm there.

So I filled out my forms, got my little ticket, filled out more forms, I take the eye test, fill out my forms again and find a seat on the edge of a row. Now this seat was chosen very strategically. Since I was on the edge there was only one side for people to sit next to me on. Lucky for me, the next person was three seats down, which meant that no one else would go sit there because it would force said person to sit next to either me or her. So I was safe.

Or so I thought.

I hadn't been sitting there for more then ten minutes before an old couple that had to lean on each other in order walk sat down next to me. RIGHT NEXT TO ME in the two empty seats.
And they smelled like old people.

Instantly I was conflicted. My instincts screamed to get up and move to a different seat. My upbringing told me that would be very very rude. And as much as my body was screaming that someone was in my personal space and that someone was an old lady who smelled of peppermint and white diamonds, I also, for reasons I can not decipher, did not want to hurt this old lady's feelings.

So I sat there. Shrinking into myself and trying not to breathe old people fumes.

Two hours passed.

About this time I realized the MVD employees were cruel,evil minions. All their stupid little tickets with the Supposed random letters and numbers were just their way of torturing us. And after two hours I had figured out their system. If you were under the age of 25 you got a ticket that made you wait an hour. If you had a baby that was sleeping you waited 15 minutes. A baby that was crying, or multiple babies? three hours. Old people waited two hours, fat people waited four. Now you may be asking, what about pretty people? Well I don't know how long pretty people would have had to wait, because there weren't any. I'm serious. Not a single pretty person.

I realized about hour three that there must be a pretty person MVD. Where only the pretty people go, where the employees serve donuts and smile and say yes sir. And somehow I misplaced my invite. Or worse.. maybe I had never gotten an invite to the pretty person MVD.
So now in addition to trying to not to breathe old people stink I'm suddenly faced with all the insecurities that being an american girl is blessed with.
Yee haw.

They finally call my number.
I fill out more forms. They make me pay them money that I'm pretty sure was bribe money. And then they direct me to another line. The employee didn't explain why I needed to go wait in that line when I had just spent three hours waiting to speak to her. Just a curt nod in the direction I was supposed to wait.

I was infuriated. I spent another half hour in another line... expect this time there wasn't anyone manning the station. I mean, there was a women there when I got in line, but once there was only two people in front of me... she just went poof!. No explanation to the long line. No "i'll be right back". The employee just walked away. For thirty minutes. By the time someone new walked up and started to help us I had a whole speech planned out. All the things I was going to say that would put these asshole employees in their place and make them reevaluate the way they treated people. and when it was my turn I marched up to the counter, slid my paperwork to her, opened my mouth...

And the employee nodded curtly at another line and told me I needed to go wait there.

I shut my mouth and demurely walked over to the other line.
Oh yeah, the rebellion is going to recruit me any day now.

The last line was the final line. They took my picture, reprinted my license with a cool little M on the back and allowed me to leave. It took a total of five minutes.

As I was finally set free I looked around the parking lot and realized.. all those people that I had sat with for the last three and a half hours, they were all getting approved TO DRIVE. Those "people" were going to be sharing the road with me.
At least, they would have been if I lived in that city. Suddenly I was grateful I had made that thirty minute drive.

I got the hell out of there.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Check, Check and Check

The weekend was a success.

I managed to check off multiple things on my honey do list.

The Boy took off Saturday, bought me dinner and then the two of us made a nest of blankets and limbs and watched eight episodes of Sons Of Anarchy season 2. Seriously. In a row.

I slept for five hours and woke up to gunfire, which turned out to be my alarm.

I got to hang out with the always lovely Miss Erin, and because she's so lovely, she asked that we go rock climbing, which allowed me to check off two things on my list.

Home, nap. Then back to world waking. I lit candles, pulled out my comfy blanket, curled up in my comfy chair and started MockingJay.
And finished MockingJay. Six hours later.

I loved it, think it's brilliant and am completely irreparably damaged after reading it.

Since Jocelyn recommended the series to me this is completely her fault. Thanks a lot Jocelyn.

The Boy came home and I ranted about the book, he ranted about the book because he read it first because he's FOUR BOOKS AHEAD OF ME.
Except now he's only THREE books ahead of me. Slow and steady wins the race

Then I curled up against The Boy and dreamt of post apocalyptic worlds and motorcycle gangs. I mean clubs.

Woke up four hours later. Went to The Boy's Parents house and sewed. For hours upon hours.

Finished two costumes for Halloween. Four more to go. I love love Halloween. And I love sewing. Bodhi played with the other dogs and I babbled for hours and incoherently about my plans and ideas for more costumes. The Boy's mom just took it in stride and probably privately planned to buy me my own sewing machine for christmas.

Then the plan was to come home, nap again, wake up, work out and maybe get a started on my next book. Instead I came home, sat on the internet for three hours and THEN took a nap.

Stupid internet.

Now I'm up and not really motivated to work out. Because working out at home blows. And it's four am. And I am la lazy.

And besides, I've accomplished plenty this weekend.
And I'm anything but an overachiever.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Honey do list

I've worked 6 days out of the last 7.

I'm a little burnt out.

I have the next three days off.
Here's a list of all the things I want to cram into those days

Go to the Rock Gym.
I really miss climbing

Go see The American. And Winter's Bone.
(and maybe Machete.. but only after a sake bomber)
(don't judge me)

Hang out with Miss Erin
She's in town and I am demanding play time
Maybe we can cook together again. And by "we" I mean, her

Watch all of Sons Of Anarchy season two
With the boy, on the couch with chinese food.
It just came out this week and season three starts next week

Have an adventure with Jess Berry and Little Liz
with less bug bites this time

Lose 5lbs
Cause I'm a girl and I turn 25 next month and I'm having a bit of crisis about it

And by 5lbs, I mean 10

The Boy is four books ahead of me. Four

Clean. My poor cluttered house.
Seriously, books and half finished experiments everywhere. It's like a wizards study

Sleep. I want to sleep 10-12 hours of every night.

I'm going to need a longer weekend