Monthly Archives: June 2011

goodness, life, martial arts

A truth about being a martial artist

Being a martial artist is great for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that it makes me feel like a total badass.  Being athletic for so long means I’m pretty coordinated, I move gracefully, I don’t trip and fall and injure myself… ever.  Plus, being a female martial artist automatically puts me in a special category, and everyone loves being special.

And all that sounds great, but if I’d be lying if I said that any of those topped my list of why being a true martial artist is worth all the training, sweating and pain. Having been punched and kicked until I bled may sound brutal; having sharp eyes and fast feet that can flash above my own head may sound pretty sweet; but it’s the sum of these skills and experiences that produces the best part of being a good fighter: the quiet.  I’m confident that my training has prepared me to survive (and win) most fights, and I find that to be incredibly soothing.

yes, there is a little solar eclipse in my tummy

I rediscovered this sensation while interviewing someone at Office Job.  I’ve only been there less than a year, so I still feel like the new kid.  However, during the interview, I realized that I would be looked to for counsel on how to handle this situation or deal with that person, and that I could give sound advice.  I’m getting good at my job, and that’s really quite… relaxing.  It’s the same feeling I had when I got my black belts: a sense of pride and confidence.  Of course, when I got my black belts, my body felt like it was pulsating with potential, that the ability to fight (and fight well) practically coursed through me.  It was all I could do to contain it.  It was exhilarating.  My whole body was buzzing with power and fluid motion, and amidst all that there was a still, quiet core to keep me from flying in all directions.

That buzzing feeling has faded to a hum, but its silent anchor remains.  The best part of being a true martial artist is the silence.

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badness, martial arts

No one makes me bleed my own blood!!

As I’ve mentioned before, Saturday is the only day I have completely off.  On my other day off I spend four hours at the Kung Fu studio teaching, sweating, and learning ancient ways to become even more of a badass.  There weren’t many people around for Thursday night’s intermediate class, so it morphed into a wrestling/sparring class.  It was pretty fun.  I got roped into doing the Saturday sparring class.

Naruto knows exactly how I felt

When I mentioned to Diminutive Roommate that I’d be sparring for the first time in five years, she was confused.  She thought sparring took place during regular classes.  She couldn’t figure out how I’d been teaching all this time, and hadn’t sparred even once.  So let me take a moment to describe sparring the way it’s generally taught at martial arts schools.  Traditionally, sparring is when two trained martial artists throw on some gear (gloves, shin pads, head gear, mouth guard, chest padding, etc.), and exchange controlled hits to test their reflexes.  No one’s going for a knock out, or even attempting to injure their partner.  To do so would be disrespectful, and defeat the purpose of the exercise.

Or so I thought when I said I would be happy to attend a Saturday sparring match.  I was mistaken.  Before this class, I had never attended a sparring session where it was acceptable behavior to:
-intentionally and repeatedly aim strong punches to the head of an opponent not wearing head gear
-offer no apology for incurring even a simple injury like a bloody nose
-the majority of the class completely ignore instructions to use only 30% power
-a high-rank student is permitted to intentionally use more power than an equally-ranked partner (against that partner)

The instructor was very helpful and gave me some really excellent pointers.  He was very engaging and clearly interested in watching his students improve, which we did over the course of the class.  So I’m pretty heartbroken to say that there’s very little chance that I can go back to that class.  I have since learned that my partner of equal rank (who we’ll call Kris) is apparently known as “No Control” Kris.  Yikes.  Why is she allowed to spar?  Why intentionally injure your classmates?  Is your training really so important that things like restraint get lost in the process?

Maybe I’ve just gone soft.  It’s been five years since I sparred last, I’m not in my best shape, and I did well considering.  Frankly, I’m feeling good about my performance, but I have a lot to learn and a lot to improve, but… I won’t, because I can’t go back to that class if that’s what will be allowed from her and other students.

I don’t want an apology.  I want to train.  I don’t want a concussion, but I want to learn.  Gotta make this happen.

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martial arts, work

Skip this one, I’m just blowing off steam

I have two jobs: Office Job and Karate Job.  Karate Job is unique in the sense that if I want any time off, I need to ask the other sensei’s to cover all my classes for me.  As a result, I have yet to take a vacation from this job (I’ve been there close to two years).  With the exception of two one-day occasions (one was Sister’s engagement the day after Thanksgiving why don’t we get that day off, the other was ComiCon), I have never asked for coverage for anything other than being deathly ill.  Having a job means showing up and doing that job every day, even if you don’t want to, even if you’re hung over or tired and want a vacation.  You suck it up, and do your job.

hey, wanna help me shirk my responsibilities? thaaaanks!!!! 🙂

Most of the sensei’s are actors, so they’ll ask for coverage at the drop of a hat (“I just landed this really big gig and I need to be on set for the next three days!!!”), but they won’t commit to cover for anyone else (read: me) if I want to make plans a month in advance (say, for something like a vacation) because what if their big break comes along and they’re stuck covering someone else’s classes omfg worst day ever.  So when a sensei who has never covered for me (even when I had that stabbing sensation in my intestines every fifteen minutes for two days) asks for coverage because his friends are in town and he wants to be a good host and show them around LA, guess what.  NO.  A thousand times, no.  Everyone wants to hang out with friends, but guess what.  You have a fucking job.  DO YOUR JOB.  When my cousin from Australia who I haven’t seen in a decade came into town, did I ask for time off?  No.  Because I have a job, and living my life shouldn’t stop other people from living theirs.  It’s just that simple.

I think this bothers me so much because I have two jobs, and if I cover for anyone, that automatically means that I will work two weeks without a day off.  Most of my time off is spent at the Kung Fu studio already, so the idea that someone would shoot me a quizzical look when I say “Sorry, I can’t cover for you that day,” makes my blood boil.  Especially the sensei’s who ask for coverage at the Valley or Near Valley locations.  They just don’t understand how not-worth it it is financially.  Let’s break it down:

Let’s say the sensei needs four classes covered.  At $25/hr, that’s $100; after taxes it’s around $66.  It’s 30 miles to and from Valley or Near Valley schools from my place on the Westside.  That’s about $16 worth of gas in my current death trap of a car.  That drops my pay to about $50, which means that I’m now getting paid just $13 per hour to teach kids who don’t know me in an unfamiliar school in the fucking Valley.

So no, sensei, I can’t cover for you up there.  I can never cover for you.

I’ve averaged one day of coverage per month since I started working there.  If someone would like to give karma a call and let her know that I’m due for a vacation, that’d be nice.  It would mean more if it didn’t come from me, y’know?  kthx!

not pictured: boss winding up for an undeserved sucker punch

Side rant: What is it that compels bosses to tell their employees that they’re doing a great job, the kids are happy, the parents are (literally) outraged when I’m not there when I’m sick, everything is great.  But hey, are you starting classes on time?  I heard you weren’t.  Yeah, last Friday I lost track of time and we started one of the classes a minute or two late.  Ok… Starting on time is important.  You need to start doing that.  Right, of course, it was an anomaly, my classes usually do start on time.  Ok great… it’s just that I heard that it was a thing with you… That’s odd, because it’s not.  Have the parents been complaining?  No, I just wanted to make sure you knew that-

*sigh*  Yeah.  Just keep reiterating your point.  That’ll help.  Because I’m a small mammal or a child, and I don’t understand English too good.  I was intelligent when you hired me, but being a subordinate has made me stupid as all hell, so yeah, please just keep repeating yourself.  Maybe I’ll crack under the pressure and tell you that you’re right and I’m wrong even if I’m not.  Go ahead; bully me into lying to you.  That’s a good work relationship, right?  Right?

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life, manfolk

Ok, Boyfriend, time to come home now

How many ‘I miss you’s can I bleed?
My face is pale,
my hands are cold,
but the time is long
and silence comes too easily.

Your house is still and dark.
No silly notes, no surprises.
No cat naps, no quiet morning kisses.

The clocks tell time for no one
while ‘miss you’s slip from my mouth
onto the floor, and lie unmoving,
patiently waiting to be heard.

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