Last night was the first night that Kung Fu started to feel like "home" to me again. More and more people from the old school are showing up. On top of that, we're doing this drill in blackbelt that's so awesome, I'm fangirling over it.
Kung Fu has a lot of aspects for me that keep calling me to it, which I've chronicled over the years, and most of you know about. In brief: That meditative state you hit after about an hour of non-stop movement, the "runner's high," the feeling of well-being, balance, the friendships, the nakama feeling, knowing you're doing something for your health, knowing you're doing something that could potentially save your life, or even just save you some trouble. There is of course another aspect to Kung Fu that I seldom discuss because I feel like such a sell-out or a poseur, maybe more like.
But the truth is that Kung Fu just looks so goddamn cool and hardcore, it's kind of a big draw for me. I know we're not supposed to really focus on the awesomeness of it, but there are those moments during a drill like the one we're doing now when I look at all of us in the mirror and go, "damn
we look fly." I suppose that makes me a bad martial artist. Or maybe not; maybe just an honest one because I think that if more people were real about it, we'd say that, yeah, we started in the first place because it looked so cool when Jackie Chan did it, or Bruce Lee or whoever. ^_^
I mentioned some folks from the old school coming back, and last night marked the return of Te Ji Nan, our young stunt boy. Or, not so young anymore, I guess, since he's just turned 16. Hard to believe I've known him since he was 10, and so wee. There are still a few of us missing, like Homeslice, Silent Boy, etc. But I'm sure they'll return soon.
Also, last night this guy I met at school came along for a trial class, too. He used to train years ago, the same lineage but at a different school with a different Sifu. This guy is super nice and I suspect I think he's quite cute too, in a super tall, dark kind of way. (But I'm not sure, because my defenses are set on red for a while.) If he sticks around, I need an awesome code name for him. He rode his bike there, and I drove him back to his house. We beat the crap out of each other in the first drill; I think that's a nice way to bond with new friends. In class today, we compared bruises. It was kind of sweet, maybe.
Oh, yeah, so school.
Okay, remember about a week ago I talked of that girl who'd had a meltdown after failing her midterm? I mean, not a normal "OMG I failed" meltdown but a "those teachers are bitches, die die die" kind of meltdown. Yeah, well today? DIFFERENT WOMAN
, different meltdown!( This is long. )
So now, I don't even feel bad about thinking of her by her unflattering nickname behind her back. Instead, when I see people literally facepalming over her stupid questions and the answers that she thinks she has, I just feel gratified and I facepalm along with them.
This gets filed under "WTMFF is wrong with people, I swear."
SEE? I meant to only write a bit, but then took up half the night bitching about some chick at my school. GAH.
Onto head movies. Last night, I had a dream that I was writing my pathology paper, and on editing it I realized that I used the word "thereby" like ten times in every paragraph. I'd written it by hand and it was all, "thereby, thereby, thereby..."
The night before that, I dreamed that I was trying to empty the pond on my yard for the winter. I've never emptied it before, so I don't know why I'd do this. I picked it up (it wasn't that heavy,) and unplugged the bottom to let the water run out. But every time I thought it was empty, more water would somehow fill it up. And I'd go, "Oh, now I have to start all over again!" I know they say that water is a metaphor for your feelings, but in this case I disagree. I think the pond was a metaphor for my credit card. That, or I had to pee.
Then the night before that, I dreamed that Tom Hardy's dog had lymphoma. This is because I was worried it was what Sano had, but he didn't, and I'd looked at pictures of Tom Hardy with his dog, which he seems to really dote on.
But here's a cool thing that happened. Two nights ago, two separate things occurred, neither of which was a dream. The first was that I needed to get something from Mom's house, and I had to go into Dad's music room to get it. When I turned on the light, his karaoke machine blasted to life with the radio on, scaring the christ out of me. Of course, I stood there and cried like a fool, trying to figure out what the song was. But the radio was tuned to mostly static, and while there was a song playing, I couldn't hear what it was. The second thing: That same night, I was writing this short story and I quoted this Japanese poem: Shadows on the darkness of my heart have left me in confusion; Dream or truth? Let other folk decide.
It's by Narihira. Neat poem, I thought, so I gacked it.
Then yesterday my brother called me in the middle of the day to tell me about the dream he'd had that same night. In my brother's dream, he was listening to Dad sing a song, but he couldn't make out the words. This started to sound familiar to me and I thought of my dream. He continued on to tell me that after the song was over, he'd heard Dad's voice telling him, "In the shadow of a dream or a golden thought I come to you."
It sounded so similar to the poem I'd copied that it was remarkable. Neither my brother nor I are very religious, though he is quite spiritual (he's a Buddhist.) Me, I'm more of a Taoist but really without the gods. But spirituality aside, it was actually quite cool, huh? Those little connections? Sometimes I rely on them; other times I realize I have a severe case of apophenia. But if that's true of me, then other people have it, too.
I'm not sure why people have to label everything. Just because you give it a name—apophenia--and label it a pathology, does that mean the patterns you see aren't really there?
Richard Feynman addressed this, actually, because he didn't believe in such things. He had a logical, mundane reason for everything – which I really quite adore, because he would also insist that there really is nothing mundane in the universe, and isn't that alone enough? Isn't there already such a huge amount of amazement for you to be overwhelmed? And I agree with that. And yes, the logical person that I am realizes that probably The Boychild pushed the switch on the Karaoke machine when he was playing in there. I still can't find a reason for my brother to have dreamed something so similar to what I'd written the night before, though.
AH! And another thing. Today while I was at school, I lent my Mom Wuthering Heights. Mom was a little "Well, I'll give it a whirl I guess," and I was like, "OMG WAIT TILL YOU SEE, SOOO GOOD SOOO INTENSE" (sorry, Link's Queen throwback there, dramatic reading and all.) Today was rainy and blustery, so my Mom spent the day watching Wuthering Heights and eating Cherry Garcia ice cream, ahh, what a day off! When she returned the DVD to me she was like, "WOW!" And she remarked on Tom Hardy's acting, saying more or less what I've been raving about: his subtlety, his honesty, how he can deliver an entire scene without opening his mouth. She said it would merit a second watching – a rare honor. ^_^
Me, tonight I'm watching some Star Trek film because he's in it. I've never seen any Star Trek anything before, so T-Hard gets my Star Trek virginity, which I think he well deserves.
He could be my third husband, you know, since Joaquin left me. I mean, we're only just engaged since Wuthering Heights, but I'm thinking it might work out.
Anyway. That's about it for this entry. Can you imagine that I've got two more entries lined up, one of which needs to be locked?
My brain is so full; it needs yet more emptying. But not to worry; one of the posts I've got in mind is nothing more than ridiculous fanpoodle yammering. I can't stay either peeved or pensive for too long a time. ^_^