Monthly Archives: January 2011

badness, life

The boycott begins

Ok seriously, wtf is wrong with people?  This whole anti-gay movement is just… bizarre.
I came across this article about how Chic-fil-A is ani-gay marriage, and I wonder when I’ll get used to this level of intolerance.  It just continues to blow my mind.  Will I ever not feel shock and revulsion?  I wonder when it will stop.  I had a chat about this issue with someone who voted yes on prop 8, and the conversation degenerated into something like this:
me: Everyone should be allowed to get married.
him: But marriage is between a man and a woman, everyone knows that.
me: Says who?
him: I’m not sure why I have to explain this part.  Where do people get married?  In a church.
me: Or in front of a judge.
him: Well, if they want to, but let’s be honest, people get married in a church.
me: If they’re Christian, yeah.
him: Right, and that’s what we’re talking about.
me: Says who?  You’re jumping to conclusions, not everyone in the world is Christian.
him: We’re talking about America.
me: Not everyone in America is Christian.
him: Most of them are, and that’s the point.  The majority rules, and the majority of people are straight men and women who would marry in a church.  So when they vote, that’s how they’ll vote, and that’s their right.
me: You’ve missed the point completely.  If they were voting for their own rights, that would make perfect sense, but they’re voting on the rights of others.  They’re restricting the rights of others for no reason.
him: Of course there’s a reason; marriage is between a man and a woman.
me: Ok, what’s the point of a law?  To protect people.
What if gays could marry?  Who would get hurt?  Who are we protecting by preventing gays from being allowed to get married?
him: Well the whole idea of marriage is between a man and a woman.
me: But that’s not the point of marriage, right?  The point is to spend the rest of your life with someone you love.
him: Then they can say, “I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”  What’s wrong with that?
me: Are you asking me why a legal marriage certificate is a necessary part of marriage?  It’s not.  It’s a benefit that you’re withholding from certain people because of their sexual orientation.  That’s illegal.
him: If it was illegal, it wouldn’t have been on the ballot.
me: Did you know that our president’s parents weren’t allowed to get married because one’s black and one’s white?
him: …No, actually, I didn’t.
me: I don’t see a difference here.
him: Well of course there’s a difference, you can tell just by looking at someone if they’re black or white.
me: So if all gays had a rainbow tattoo on their forehead, the two scenarios would no longer be different?  Just because you can tell them apart from straights?

Then the topic magically got changed.

I just don’t get it.

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humor, life, martial arts, work

From the mouths of babes

Kids are cooler than adults.  Most of the time.

Example 1: Pain
Kids don’t define a day by the number of injuries they sustained.  Today I’m really sore from training, I’ll be sore tomorrow too, and in a few weeks, that’s all I’ll remember about this week.  I won’t remember that fun conversation I had with Michelle, or how, when she said, “I wanna learn how to do a flying kick,” and I said, “I can teach you that.  Check it out!” that I did a flying kick, followed by a jumping spinning roundhouse kick and almost nailed some lady that came into the office just then right in the FACE.  If I hadn’t written all this down, all I’d think about today is how much I want to use my friend’s hot tub because I’m so fucking sore that it’s hurting my back muscles to type this.

incapable of human speech

ALL HAIL HYPNOTOAD

Example 2: Truth
Most adults mush the truth around like spackle.  They use just enough to get the job done, and leave the rest sealed in a bucket.  Most kids will tell the truth about anything.
me: What does the frog say?
kid: Frogs don’t talk.
me: [Holy shit, he’s totally right.]

Example 3: Focus

adults hate crayons

Adults think kids have trouble concentrating.  They don’t.  Kids have amazing focus, they just don’t focus on stupid bullshit like getting dressed and doing homework.  But put them in front of their favorite toy, or a picture book, or box of crayons and a clean sheet of paper, and everything else in the world disappears completely.  They don’t worry about other crap.  They can do absolutely one thing at a time.  That’s what adults call meditation.

Example 4: Imagination
Fuck adults and their complete lack of creativity.  I joked with a group of kids and parents that I wish I had tentacles instead of hands so I could grab onto stuff better.  The kids laughed and said, “eew!”  The adults were just horrified and uncomfortable.  One of them actually looked sorry for me.  But the kids would not shut up about it.  “What if you had more hands instead?”  Jesus Christ, why didn’t I think of that?  Awesome.

I need to try to define my day with the funny, good stuff that happens, instead of what I’m doing this very second (being pissed that I have to teach a private lesson after the regular classes today, plus I invited my coworker buddy over to watch some anime or whatever, so I won’t have time to go hot tubbing, which is all I want to do right now because I can’t remember the last time I was in so much muscle-pain, and it’s honestly starting to freak me out).

I’m working on it.

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humor, life

I’m talkin’ ’bout zobos here, people

i'm gonna go with 'probably'

I’ve been writing a zombie novel for the last… year or so.  Although I haven’t done any writing for it in at least half a year.  Regardless, I need to get back on that, because I love to write, and zombies are just a great subject.  How much time have my friends and I spent chatting about what we would do in case of a zombie apocalypse?

The plan is roughly this: weapons, allies, supplies, in that order.

Weapons
We go to Sport Chalet, and pick up some aluminum bats.  They’re an ideal weapon because they’re light, fairly compact, they never wear out, they never run out of ammo, and they require very little upkeep (rust would be an issue eventually).  We also need to pick up some paintball masks to guard our mouths and eyes from any splattering zombie heads (which would be pretty excessive, what with the bats).  Plus, masks are fucking scary, and if we want to intimidate another group of people, masks can only help.  They would also lend to the group a sense of uniformity and solidarity; both essential when shit gets hairy because during a big fight, we have to be able to distinguish living from undead, and we have to watch each other’s backs.
Personally, I’d love to get my hands on a samurai sword, since they’re sharp as shit and my arms would get tired (and then ripped) after swinging that bat all over.  They’re so efficient; you don’t need a huge wind-up to get the job done (although if the dismembered head could still bite, this could prove to be a problem in the future.  Best to eliminate the problem entirely by smashing the head into oblivion).

Allies
Find your crew and stick together.  Being a loner is good for the sake of simplicity, but it makes sleeping, bathing, urinating, and pretty much everything else you do without your friend Aluminum Bat in your hands hazardous.  Someone has to be there to yell, “Watch out!” when that zobo you thought you took care of comes crawling out from under a car.  And people need to interact with each other.  It keeps the mind alert and relaxed in (what I would imagine) would otherwise be a mind-numbing, frantically stressful existence.

Supplies
When I say supplies, I mean basic stuff like rations, toiletries and clothing.  This stuff is last because with enough armed allies, you can take whatever you want from whomever you want.  The zombie apocalypse will be a war zone.  Survival is priority one.  Brutal, but true.

I’ve got zobos on the brain because I just watched Zombieland with some friends, and omg that shit was hilarious.  So much better than I thought it would be.  The kid with the rules?  Awesome.  My personal favorite?  The double-tap.  That’s just good policy.  I’m on board with that.

I’ve been writing a zombie novel for the last… year or so.  Although I haven’t done any writing for it in at least half a year.  Regardless, I need to get back on that, because I love to write, and zombies are just a great subject.  How much time have my friends and I spent chatting about what we would do in case of a zombie apocalypse?  The plan is generally this: weapons, allies, supplies, in that order.Weapons
We go to Sport Chalet, and pick up some aluminum bats.  They’re an ideal weapon because they’re light, fairly compact, they never wear out, they never run out of ammo, they require very little upkeep (rust would be an issue eventually).  We also need to pick up some paintball masks to guard our mouths and eyes from any splattering zombie heads (which would be pretty excessive, what with the bats).  Plus, masks are fucking scary, and if we want to intimidate another group of people, masks can only help.  They would also lend to the group a sense of uniformity and solidarity; both essential when shit gets hairy because during a big fight, we have to be able to distinguish living from undead, and we have to watch eachother’s backs.
Personally, I’d love to get my hands on a samurai sword, since they’re sharp as shit and my arms would get tired (and then ripped) after swinging that bat all over.  They’re so efficient; you don’t need a huge wind-up to get the job done (although if the dismembered head could still bite, this could prove to be a problem in the future.  Best to eliminate the problem entirely by smashing the head into oblivion).

Allies
Find your crew and stick together.  Being a loner is good for the sake of simplicity, but it makes sleeping, bathing, urinating, and pretty much everything else you do without your friend Aluminum Bat in your hands hazardous.  Soemone has to be there to yell, “Watch out!” when that zobo you thought you took care of comes crawling out from under a car.  And people need to interact with eachother.  It keeps the mind alert and relaxed in (what I would imagine) would otherwise be a mind-numbing, frantically stressful existence.

Supplies
When I say supplies, I mean basic stuff like rations, toiletries and clothing.  This stuff is last because with enough armed allies, you can take whatever you want from whomever you want.  The zombie apocalpyse will be a war zone.  Survival is priority one.  Brutal, but true.

I’ve got zobos on the brain because I just watched Zombieland with some friends, and omg that shit was hilarious.  The kid with the rules?  Awesome.  My personal favorite?  The double-tap.  That’s just good policy.  I’m on board with that.

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martial arts

Climbing leads to Kung Fu

I went rock climbing in April of last year with some friends.  We had a blast, and what a weird sport to get into.  The people who are really into it tend to be hippies, or at the very least like to grow their hair long and talk about their auras.  Regardless, watching someone do some serious bouldering is totally awe-inspiring.  I got to know a couple people there, who warned me that the rock climbing gym is a “meat market,” and to watch out for guys who offer to help too eagerly.  They were right, but everyone else was super cool.

One of the women who works at the gym also does Kung Fu (southern style; that means fast hands, no flying kicks or big fancy swooping gestures).  She and I have become buddies, and when she learned about my martial arts background, she invited me to take a class at her gwoon where she also works.  I took a few beginner’s classes before one of the head instructors took me aside and said, “Why are you in the beginner’s classes?”
me: Uh, I dunno, gotta get the basics down, starting at the bottom…
him: You should be taking intermediate level classes.  You’re obviously having no problem learning the moves, let’s move you up.  You’re picking it up really fast, you have a natural talent for this, so lets get you in some upper level classes.
me: [probably blushing] …Ok.  Thanks.  Sounds good.

[Little-known fact: I blush at the drop of a hat.  You could say, “Hey, nice shoes,” and I would turn three different shades of scarlet.  Ok that’s a little extreme, but I radiate radish red in the face of even a little genuine embarrassment.]

So I’ve taken… three intermediate level classes, and I’m not having any trouble keeping up with the moves or the pace.  But I am… I think the technical term is “really fucking sore.”  Driving to work today, I winced turning on my blinker.  My shoulders are taking the brunt of the abuse (loads of pushups, punching, blocks).  My forearms are covered with bruises from three star training.  Iron palm doesn’t bother me for some reason.  You’d think jabbing and slapping a punching bag filled with sand would cause me some discomfort.

I saw my buddy break a coconut with her bare hand the other night.  Craaaaaazy.  And she’s totally fine today.  So weird.  I told my dad about it, and he said, “Don’t do it.” lol

EDIT: I saw my buddy today, and she pointed to her chin and said, “See this?”  It was a bruise from when I kicked her in the face during class two days ago.  We were doing spinning back kicks, and she was holding the pad at her chest level (being significantly shorter than me, the pad was actually at about my waist level, and I’m used to kicking high, so… yeah).  My foot glanced off the pad, and my heel landed square on the lower left side of her chin.  Apparently the pain radiated up through her skull and ended at the opposite eyeball.  While I feel really bad about this, I wasn’t really trying too hard, so I’m feelin’ pretty good about my kicks, lol.

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humor, work

Haiku distraction

Tenmyouya Hisashi, ur doin it rite

Like anyone else, I get bored during meetings and classes.  However, as previously mentioned in an earlier post, I have the uncanny ability to entertain myself pretty much all the time. When I got bored in high school, I would write poetry.  I quickly discovered the best kind of poetry to write in class is haiku, due to its quick and easy format.

Today I was in a meeting at work, and found myself… less than stimulated.  Hence:

So comfortable
with your eyes shut, little Ruth,
mole-boss in the dark.

My boss (let’s call her Ruth for now, for the sake of maintaining the integrity of the poem) has a strange habit of closing her eyes while she talks.  I’m not sure why she does it, but she can deliver a whole, long, elaborately constructed sentence without opening her eyes once.  It’s bizarre, and a little disconcerting.

None of the women
seem surprised that the men have
huddled together.

Meeting attendance by gender: Male : Female = 3:23.  The three of them sat together in a little row of inadequacy.  Pretty hilarious.

The men struggle to
stay awake, while the women’s
eyes, bright, sharp, alert.

It was all the three men could do to stay awake.  Two of them were on their Blackberries most of the time, and the third had his arms folded on the table with his head nodding dangerously low.

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badness, life

Losing my mind

I’m occasionally attacked by giant, imaginary bugs.

At first I thought it was a recurring nightmare.  Then I thought it was a night terror, but I have vivid memories of them every time.
I’m also usually awake.  Which makes them hallucinations.  Right?
I’ve experienced this about… no more than 8 times I guess.  The first time was more than a year ago, and I can’t remember when the last time was.

because neon chairs exist, and neon bugs don't

Here’s how it goes, every time: I’m lying in bed on my back.  I’ve been asleep at least a couple hours.  I look up at the ceiling, and there’s a huge, spindly bug with black and neon coloring (red, yellow, or green) descending slowly toward me.  It’s not more conscious than other bugs, but its intent is to land on me and do something (I’m not sure what, I just don’t want this thing landing on my fucking face, which is exactly where it’s always heading).
The first few times I saw one, I just hid under the blanket, terrified.  After a minute of cowering, I would venture a glance and it would be gone.  Or I would wake up Boyfriend and frantically ask if there was a bug.  Of course, there wasn’t.
My first encounter with these, I saw about three in a month, maybe more.  Those were the most terrifying.  All I could do was hide and pray each one would go away.
Later, as I got frustrated by my terror and hiding like a baby, I tried swatting at them.  This didn’t actually produce any change; they were always out of reach, even if I waited a second or two for them to get closer (which I only remember doing once, because who the fuck would  let this thing get any closer than it already was?).  It was getting closer, just never within reach somehow.  After the futile swatting, the hiding commences.
Naturally, all this thrashing would scare the shit out of Boyfriend who would wake up expecting me to be on fire.
That brings us to another part of this: Boyfriend.  He’s always there when this happens.  This has never happened without him sleeping next to me.  He knows now to immediately comfort me and tell me there are no bugs, they’re not real, it was just a dream.
I have no idea what causes these hallucinations.  I wasn’t taking any drugs, not even birth control at the time.  And why bugs?  I don’t have any phobias… at all.  I mean, no one likes bugs, but not everyone has hallucinations about them, so… wtf?
I’m gonna have to draw one at some point, if I can.  They don’t make any noise, so I don’t know how I know when one’s there, nor how they move so slowly through the air (no batting wings, no threads).  They just drift, and that’s part of what makes them so scary.

honestly, this picture is just about life size

Edit: Aaaaaand of course, what’s spinning its invisible threads just above the surface of my bathroom sink this morning?  A HUGE fucking daddy long legs.  Literally the largest I’ve ever seen.  Its legs hit the wall at least two inches apart.  That fucker was enormous.

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humor, manfolk

Check, please

So I watched The Social Network with Boyfriend the other day.  He couldn’t shut up about it.  He loves that movie so much, and I can kinda see why.  It’s very quick, the dialog is very sharp, and an excellent representation of the best (and not-so-best) of our generation.

really quite handsome

Then there’s Armie Hammer.

He plays the twins on crew who come up with the original idea upon which facebook is based.  I honestly thought there were two of them.  Imagine my disappointment.  Shit.

So naturally I looked him up online and he’s… a little plumper in most photos than he is in the movie, maybe because he had to play a hugely ripped rower (yes plz).  Christ, and his voice?  Yikes.  I kept watching the movie expecting to find some angle I didn’t like.  No dice, ladies.  This guy is just… delicious.  Sorry Boyfriend! lol

I’ve never written a post solely about some random good-looking celebrity, because that’s stupid.  But this is important.  It demonstrates a distinct shift in my racial preferences.  I would normally say, “Y’know who’s handsome?  Armie Hammer.  For a white boy.”  But I can’t really keep saying that.  I keep running into really good looking white guys, and it’s freaking me out.  My whole standard of what I consider attractive in the white male category is apparently changing, and yeah, it’s freaking me out (in a good way).  Is it time to reassess what I look for physically in a mate, or is it really not that important?  I’m gonna go with the latter for now.

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