To do list

I'd like to write something about violence using the will.i.am and Perez Hilton altercation as an example.

I'd like to start posting my conditioning goals and what I'm doing to achieve said goals. At the very least it shouldn't be to difficult to remember what I ate during a day.

I need to remember to tweet. It's an interesting outlet. I suppose I'll update my progress with what I consider a useful application of that tool at some point later.

My Hero

The Boy with the Cloud over His Head

The cloud wouldn’t stop following him.

He didn’t know why the cloud chased him all over. He could never get rid of it. The cloud followed him from his home, to school, all during school, to the play ground at lunch time (down the slide, back and forth on the swings, all over for tag [he hated being frozen], and all around the diamond during kickball), back inside for afternoon classes, on his walk back home from school, and hovered over him while he watched the after school special cartoons.

He hated the cloud. He couldn’t tell you why, he didn’t know, not for sure anyway. He only had a few inklings and notions

The kids at school didn’t like him because of the cloud. Nobody wanted their parade rained on, literally or figuratively. They chased him away, telling him that he made them sad, and that his very presence made them think things they would really rather not.

Then one day, while he was out on the playground, playing by himself because the other kids would really rather have nothing to do with him (at this point he’d decided he’d really rather having nothing to do with them either, fuck them if they didn’t like his cloud [he didn’t like it either]), a young boy that no one much played with walked over to him.

The young boy was in the shade, though it was sunny out, and was holding a ball.

This young boy (who was in the shade holding a ball) asked the boy with the cloud over his head if he’d like to play a game called wall ball. It was an easy game, you just hit the ball towards the wall, and the other person did the same, and you decided the winner as the last one to successfully be able to hit the wall with the ball.

The boy with the cloud over his head was puzzled. Nobody had ever really wanted to play with him. This boy in the shade was certainly a peculiar chap. He said he’d like to play. So they played wall ball until recess was over. They laughed when they made mistakes, and they tried very hard to succeed at hitting the ball towards the wall in such a manner as to make the other boy not be able to hit it back, thus inducing more laughter.

Before going back indoors, the boy with the cloud over his head asked the boy in the shade a question. He wanted to know why the boy in the shade wanted to hang out with him.

The boy in the shade looked a little perplexed, but he answered plainly.

“You’re the only other person out here with a cloud over their head.”

The boy with the cloud over his head didn’t understand for a second.

But then he did.

You are a Big Black Hole

She said: “I wish you would never have to wear that mask, that mask you wear when you are with everyone else. It pains me, to know that I, that I am the only one, who knows you who truly are. I wish everyone could see your face, like I do. I wish I could be with you, when you aren’t wearing that mask that you let everyone see.”

And he said: “But darling, I’m always wearing a mask.”

So she said: “You are?”

To which he responded: “Of course. My mask that I wear for everyone else is my everyday mask, my ordinary mask, the mask that I have had since I was a child. Sure it has picked up a few different decorations along the path of my life, a few things that I grew sick of that I sanded out, but it is still the mask I am most used to.”

And she said: “But what of when you are with me, are you truly wearing a mask, even then, when I thought that I had you, and you as you truly are, all to myself?”

To which he responded: “Of course. The mask I wear for you is special. I’ll only ever let you see it, I made it just for you, so that you could have something no one else does. I toiled long and hard to create this mask, and I only wear it for you.”

To which she responded: “I want to see you when you aren’t wearing a mask. I hate that you have to wear a mask around me.”

And so she wept, because when he spoke she heard: “I don’t respect you enough to show you who I really am.”

And so he wept as well, because when she spoke he heard: “Your special mask you made for me is not good enough for me.”

Neither understood what the other was really trying to say. He spoke literally. She spoke in metaphor. It was the mix that caused the end.

In his sadness he took off his mask. He revealed to her his emptiness; the swirling darkness that sat on his neck where his face should be. She fell into him and was lost forever.

He burned the special mask.

His ordinary mask he changed. He took out all of the things that made that mask special.

You are a Giant Ball of Light

There are things that can never be said in polite company.

Oh, it’s true. Polite company disdains these things, these things that, if you sit down and think about them, compromise certain realities, ergo, the truth.

Polite company has no interest in the truth. It only has an interest in maintaining it’s view of the world, it’s view of reality, it’s hold on life.

So what does one do when faced with polite company and an unending desire to be upfront, honest, and unashamed?

It isn’t entirely right to run roughshod, smash barriers, upset dreams, and disturb an otherwise comfortable lifestyle.

Polite company demands that you play along with its worldview.

Just remember, the knowledge you have, you should let it out. Let it bathe in the light of the world. Let polite company catch a glimmer of the blinding light that you are.

Defy convention, but remember, polite company isn’t wearing sunglasses. It would be rude to let them see you, all of you, all at once.

Make sure you allow their eyes to acclimate to your glory.

Their irises must shrink so their hearts and minds can grow.

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is Awesome

I’ve noticed that the only time I’m not well spoken is when the topic is my feelings. How did this make me feel, how did that make me feel. I’m the hardest subject I’ve ever tried writing about. I’m certainly no poet; I don’t have the subtleties required for poetry, though I do feel I have a fairly masterful grip on the beast that is the English language. I think it might just come down to the old cliché of self analysis being really frigging hard. I can live with that. I’ve no real desire to be able to use words to convey how I feel, though I suppose it could come in handy. However, this is all preamble.

The other night, Thursday, I went out with one of my bosses, Mark, for a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class. If you know me at all you know that I’m really big into fighting as sport, so when Mark asked me if I was interested I jumped at the opportunity. I’ve never been formally trained for any extended period of time, and Jiu-Jitsu is very appealing to the part of me that really likes Greco Roman Wrestling. I do think that the current meta game as far as combat sports goes is probably a solid foundation in Greco Roman and Boxing, but that probably has far more to do with my study of Quinton Jackson’s old fights than anything else. My theories certainly weren’t going to stop me from going out and having a good time.

So Mark and I went to this gym in Brighton called Wai Kru. Great place, but that’s getting ahead of the experience. Mark is a great teacher. Allow me to get that out of the way. On the way over to Wai Kru, involving a lengthy ride on the B Line, Mark did nothing but talk with me about the various methods and basic skills that I would be learning that night. It was all very exciting to me. I watch MMA matches a lot, and the ground game is in my mind the finesse spot, the part of a match people tend not to understand. I think I’ve started to pick it up by watching so much, but I’d never previously had it explained to me. So Mark and I went over this book he had, and that was very educational. I’m a quick learner, and I had a background, so I picked up things a bit quicker.

We get to Wai Kru. Meet David, a great guy, who also happens to be one of the instructors there, who will later on proceed to motivate me to push my body past what it wants to do, to what it can do. Mark and I warm up by jumping rope, I’m awful at this, but I expect to be. Just doing that winds me and works up a good sweat for me. I’m admittedly out of shape, and my cardio is fairly awful. It’s good though, finding the will to do something. After this we warm up, by doing drills that absolutely drain my cardio. I couldn’t keep up with the rest of the class, no shame; it’s my first night of cardio in a long time. I’d like to improve certainly, don’t mistake my understanding on the current physical limitations of my body for a lack of desire to improve.

After this we go into some BJJ drills. Some fairly basic stuff it seems, much of it revolving around how to first stop someone from hitting you while they’re in your guard (you on your back, them in between your legs [yes, it’s very sexy]) and then later how to turn that into a kimura or other arm lock. Mark and I pair up, and I’d really like to think that we benefited each other quite well. He had a lot of pointers for me, and I was even able to spot a few things for him. It was good. Afterwards Mark and I practiced a few more drills, how to break someone’s guard when you’re mounted, how to escape from someone in your guard via a method called shrimping; the basics basically.

From there the class moved into rolling. Rolling is the fun name for wrestling. I rolled around with this kid named Courtney for a few minutes. Dude is about my height, but jacked, broad chest, all muscle. He also had a wrestling background and had been practicing BJJ for 3 ½ years if I remember right. I felt like I held my own well enough, really. I was just consumed with thinking about all of the technique that I had just learned and the muscle memory was just not there yet. That and Courtney is really good. On our first roll he pulled me into a triangle. I saw that coming, and I saw my mistake. That was a good learning experience. Courtney pointed out what I did wrong, and I agreed. I was very pleased that I had caught that. On the second roll, we matched strength for a while (I like to think I’m deceptively powerful) until he just threw me into a perfect arm bar out of nowhere. It was awesome. He explained to me what I did wrong, but I’ve no idea. I just didn’t see the move happen at all. Amazing. Third roll, we were going fairly even, I think he might have been going a bit easier on me, but time was called before we could really get into it. He noted that I was doing a few things better defensively, and I was happy about that. I thought I was too.

I paired back up with Mark. We rolled for a bit, and I managed to slip a move on him that I’d seen Matt Hughes do. Basically I was in mount (remember to look up terms) passed over one of his legs so I had him in a better position, and from there was able to hope over his leg, pinning his left arm beneath both of my legs, my full weight on his chest, and my right arm holding his right arm away from me. I think it’s pretty much the best move you can slap on someone if you want to punch them in the head a lot. I didn’t want to punch Mark in the head at all, but you get the idea. I did good. Mark was really enthused, and that made me feel really good. The man really loves the sport. It makes the baby steps more than tolerable. On our second roll I was able to get Mark to tap out to a triangle choke, and we were both really happy with that. He was going easy on me, but it was still good to know I had some moves down.

I was spent here. Heck, I was spent about halfway through the night (which lasted 2 ½ half hours, long time to do nothing but intense cardio for me) but I was able to regroup and keep going. It was really great. I hadn’t felt that kind of camaraderie in sport in a very, very long time. I’ll definitely be going back. I just have to work everything out in regards to my schedule, as well as Mark’s, since I couldn’t imagine going without him for the first couple classes at the very least.

Live life like fiction lives life

Mirth n. Gladness and gaiety, especially when expressed by laughter.

Rage n. a violent desire or passion.

Mirth and Rage.

Violent adj. intense in force, effect, etc.; severe; extreme: violent pain; violent cold.

These are the definitions I’m working with. You can insert your own, but it wouldn’t be true to my ideas. Since you’re reading my ideas, I feel it would be a smidge silly to not try and understand them based on the definitions of the words being used.

I think the proper way to rock this world is with a combination of mirth and rage. They are my current ying and yang. These words burn like any great mantra, and if applied properly should lead to a wondrously productive life.

I’m a firm believer that emotions and work ethic are just a state of mind. I don’t know of many who would actually disagree with me, but I don’t know how many would follow me to the extremes with that idea. I think it is entirely up to you how you feel, generally speaking about happiness and sadness here, and that if you can condition your mind to overcome its automatic muscle memory instinctive nature. Its Buddhism folks, or at least the kind of mindset it takes for someone to make a bitchin’ Rage Against the Machine album cover.

So, rage. It really isn’t a bad thing. It’s just about being intense about your passions. Always with the intensity, since intensity is what gets things done. Getting things done is the goal. Getting things done well is the goal. Half-assing life is not the goal. So rage on! Live, and don’t stop living!

However, I understand that people can get burnt out on rage. Maintaining that kind of energy for long periods of time is hard; this is where mirth comes into play. Shut up and be happy. Seriously. Laugh at everything, because nothing is worth not enjoying one’s self. Nothing.

Mirth and rage.