Leaf, probably…

Today I spent lunch down on the waterfront with Kat, Becks, Jeri and Maike.

Usually when we all get together it’s fun and we laugh a lot, and bitch about boys and relationships, and talk about punching things. Our meetings make me feel powerful, capable, and happy. 

When it’s time to go I leave with a sense of direction and a cool ball of calm lodged just under my rib cage. Not many people give me calm. I value the ones that do highly.

We were all there on the waterfront today for Kat - one of the very few people that I actually hero worship.

Over three years ago now she introduced me to kickboxing and changed pretty much my entire outlook on life. To everyone else she’s the person who taught me how to throw a nice punch, to me she’s the person who taught me that I can be badass.

Kat can make me do things I never would have thought about trying without her influence. Like the time I did two boxing classes in a row for her. Or the time she convinced me to try scuba diving.

She’s the first person I think of when I need courage, or no nonsense ‘get your butt into gear’ advice. And I have a feeling I’m going to be needing that sort of advice quite a bit in the next few months.

All in all she’s one of my favorite people, and even though she’s younger than me I look up to her like the totally badass big sister I’ve come to see her as.

Today’s get together on the waterfront wasn’t about boys or laughing about crap, or punching things.

It was because Kat is going to Rarotonga for a long time. She’s planning on doing her diving instructors exams while working in one of the dive shops over there. We were all there to say goodbye to Kat, and to try and keep our collective raging jealousy under control.

When I left I didn’t have a sense of purpose, and I sure as fuck didn’t have a nice cool ball of calm under my ribs. Instead I have a messy ball of weepy sad GIRL.

I haven’t lost it and actually cried yet, but it’s probably not far away. In fact at 1.15pm tomorrow I’m going to be standing with my hands pressed to my office window watching Wellington airport and blubbering like a big baby.

It’s hard to be badass when you’re sad.

Kat: Have an awesome time, but not too awesome, because we all want you back.

So. I have an exercise for you. Yes YOU. Get off your chair.

Now stand with your right side towards your computer chair. 

Lift your right leg up and out to the side so that your foot is resting on the seat or the back of your computer chair. You should look like you’ve just been interrupted doing a side kick.

You look a little silly, so you may wish to go ahead and shout KAPOW ! or Put your game face on - you’re about to get played suckahs!

Now, here comes the fun bit. The foot that is resting on the ground - you know, the one keeping you upright?   Jumpit off the ground, tuck it up quickly and tap your inner thigh. You should land back in the same side kick position you were in before the jump.

At no point should your right leg come off your computer chair.

Do a couple each leg. (Seriously, do it please, I’LL WAIT.)

Now, tell me, how many of you managed to get your foot off the ground? How many of you actually managed to touch your inner thigh with that foot? How many of you sustained major head injuries caused by losing your balance?

I got my foot off the ground, but only 5 cm off the ground. And boy did I feel like a dork doing it. Especially in a room full of TKD spring people. (And we didn’t use chairs, we partnered up and our partners made a platform with their hands at hip height)

We also played leapfrog in teams of four. I was fine jumping over the little 7 year olds, but when it came to the fully grown man I wasn’t so sure. I took a bit of a run up, then stopped. Then I thought about it for a bit, calculating angles and height. And then told him quite frankly that it wasn’t going to happen.

He’s a tall dude, and even with him all hunched over I could just see myself not getting high enough and then landing on his back and breaking him.

I don’t want to be responsible for breaking the instructor. Every week at TKD I’d have to put up with the new people pointing at me and saying ‘You know that girl? She once broke the instructor, seriously. She jumped on his back and rode him like a pony - or at least that’s what I heard.’

This weekend I plan to practice jumping. I suck at jumping games, and jumping kicks, and jumping changes.

I think it is ridiculous that I got to be 22 without learning how to jump properly. There are 15 year olds in my class who can jump their own height, straight upwards from a standing start - for that matter there are 30 year olds who can do the same. I can get to about knee height.

I’m clinging to the top of a climbing wall at Fergs on the waterfront. My arms seem to have locked into place - which is a good thing, because I’m tired, and from my last estimate I’m roughly 10,000 meters from the ground.

“Lean back!” Louise is yelling. She’s been saying that for some time now.

She’s easy to ignore all the way up here.

I don’t want to let go of the wall. Perhaps I could climb back down, like spiderman in reverse? I go down half a step, and Louise yells at me again.

Finally I manage to relax my hands and sit back onto the harness. Not too far back, mind, but I’m not clinging to the wall anymore. I’m clinging to the rope.

Louise lowers me and my stomach takes a little longer than everything else to hit the ground.

“That was scary.” I say shaking out my hands.

Louise looks at me like I’m an idiot. “You’re on a rope. I’m not going to drop you.”

“Yeah But I’m scared of heights, and it’s scary leaning back.”

Louise clearly doesn’t get it.

For her the fun bit is whizzing back down to the ground. For me it’s looping the knot before I climb, and the climb itself. My climbs are always slow. I like to think about where my hands and feet are going, and I like to be sure that I’m not going to slip and plunge to the AstroTurf below my feet.

Louise hooks herself onto the ropes, and almost before I’m ready she flings herself up the wall that I just climbed. She gets up it in less time than I did, and casually lets go of the wall, leaning back into her harness with no issues.

I shake my head in wonder. I want to ask ‘What if you fall Louise!?”. I don’t yell out though - I know it will be counterproductive to getting her back onto the ground. Also it would be a really shitty thing for a belayer to say to a friend.

My turn again, and I jump up onto the wall. Two meters up the fear settles itself over my shoulders like a blanket. I shrug it off casually, and stretch to reach my next hold.

As long as I’m going up I’ll be fine.

Last night I dreamed about sleeping, and having to wake up, and not feeling rested enough. Then I had to wake up, and I didn’t feel rested enough. I think when you reach the point where you’re even dreaming about sleeping, then perhaps it’s time to schedule a few more hours sleep in.

Today I reapplied with study link for a loan for my course costs for Semester 2 and 3, and I picked the courses I will be whining about for the next few months. After a bit of indecisiveness I went with a POLS course about institutions and policy process, and a INTP course about New Zealand in the world. I’m also signing myself up for a 300 level summer paper. The summer paper is a self directed study one, and I have absolutely no idea what it’s about, or what I’m expected to study over the Christmas break.

I have yet to ask my bosses permission for this lot, and it could get a little hairy because of my contract. I’m on an events based contract, and it’s highly likely that I will be losing my job later this year. From where I’m standing that’s not such a bad thing, as I’ve been desperately needing a job change for a while now (see: The Totally Awesome Job Fantasies that began to spring up a few months ago.) It also means I could find a new job with dramatically scaled back hours, and allow myself to finish uni as a full time student.

The only problem is getting my boss to agree to more study during a particularly prickly time of year. Oh well, I guess I’ll see how it goes.

I could always resign if he doesn’t agree (because as previously discussed study tops working on my list of priorities)  the only problem is getting the guts to do it. Once I’m settled into a job it takes a lot to get me to change… I really don’t like upheaval.

Wish me luck…

Despite my assertion that the weekend was going to suck, it didn’t.

I got my exam done, and that pretty much sucked. The rest was pretty awesome.

I went to Leslea’s birthday party on Friday night. She had mini slices on one of those cute three tiered cake things. There was also mudcake from the chocolate cake company, and many cocktails. Has anyone tried Fejoa vodka and Chi, with a squeeze of lime? It’s my new favourite thing. It tastes just like fejoa.

Karlie, Louise and I brought Leslea the Dirty Dancing special anniversary DVD, and the workout DVD. Leslea’s partner, Damon, saw them and wept. With happiness no doubt. I know he’s been dying to do that workout tape for some time now, we’ve just made his dearest dreams come true.

When it came time to leave we realised that I - true to form - had checked the wrong bus timetable. So we walked to Kilbirnie and caught a taxi.

On Saturday Louise, Karlie an I went to the zoo and Karlie photographed anything that moved - and plenty of things that didn’t. She has a new camera, and was super excited about it. You could take a gander at her photos here if you were so inclined…

After that we went for a very late lunch at Kallais in Newtown. It’s a bit dodgy looking on the outside, but the inside is a totally different story. We all ate too much, especially considering we had an early dinner at One Red Dog to go to.

Chris piled us all into his car, and took us out to his place where we met a goat called Buster. Karlie took photos and bonded. Did you know that Karlie daydreams about owning a heard of goats and making goats cheese for a living? No? Well she does.

One Red Dog was good, but then Pizza is always good.

Cats was amazing. I went with Louise, Becks, and Becks’ two flatmates. I got us seats WAY up in the gallery, and off to the side, so we missed all the action in the front right hand corner of the stage. There was enough action on the rest of the stage for me not to give a damn.

I had goose bumps the entire time, it was that great.

Then Louise and I went home and attempted to recreate the magic for Karlie. We would have succeeded too, except Louise wasn’t half as good as me at pretending to be a fat cat. I forgive her though, because she did attempt to sing, and not everyone can be as fabulous as me at this sort of thing. Neither of us attempted to do the splits, and that was probably for the best.

The rest of my weekend was spent eating roast pork, and slaving over the stupid 1000 piece black and white puzzle that I bought from the Salvation Army ages ago. Is anyone out there considering buying a black and white puzzle? Because you shouldn’t. Colours are what make these sorts of things fun. Also… you know… possible.

I feel like I’ve been wrung out. I feel like my insides have been dissected, and weighed, and found wanting.

I feel like I didn’t finish either essay in my 50 minute test. Mostly because I didn’t.

I feel like I should have written more about foreign policy after the Soviet Union became Russia. Two garbled sentences were probably not enough.

I feel like I should know more than I do. Mostly because The only tangible things I can remember right now from this course is the correct spelling of Britain and that the Bay of Pigs was not a fight about Cuban bacon.

In other news: We’re celebrating Leslea’s 23rd birthday this weekend by attending a swanky cocktail party with her.

This Saturday I’m going to see Cats at the Opera House with Becks and Louise, and we’re going to One Red Dogbeforehand for pizza. MMmm good!

And best of all? This Monday is a public holiday!

I wen’t to Taekwon-Do last night. Just like I do every Monday and Thursday night.

And just before I tell you this main story about what happened last night, I need to preface with a few facts:

• I don’t like blood.
• I don’t like the thought of blood, even.
• Once when I was in primary school the local youth gang representative stapled himself in the finger while he was threatening the teacher with the stapler. I went white, the world got all underexposed and hazy, I threw up all over the place, and got to go home with Mum.

So last night at Taekwon-Do We split into two teams for team sparring.

One team picks a person for the ring, an the other counters. We were down to the second to last pair, the black belts, and they went pretty hard out on each other. 10 seconds before time was up one took an unexpected hard hit to the face.

He dropped to the ground, and was clearly in a lot of pain. I felt all the blood rush from my face. He hyperventilated, and a thin line of cold sweat appeared on my hairline. The black belts helped him off the mat and into recovery position at the side of the room.

The instructor came back to the mats and called for everyone to gather round. He explained that while accidents do happen safety is of the up-most importance to everyone in the dojang. He told us how most of the black belts had first aid certificates.

Everything looked a bit underexposed and hazy.

The instructor reiterated that that sort of thing was highly unlikely to ever happen to us, at our levels, because they simply wouldn’t allow it. The instructor asked if anyone had any issues with what they had seen. When he was sure everyone was ok, the class move on to learning sparring combos.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

I leaned over the sink with my wrists under the cold water and hung my head down to get some blood back into it. Then I went out and plonked myself down against a wall and drank some water. It only took a few minutes for me to come right, so I joined back into the sparring.

At the end of class the instructor came up and said that he was sorry I missed my go in the ring after the accident. I mentioned that I was weird about blood and stuff - even though there was no blood. I couldn’t explain my reaction to my satisfaction. I think he may have misunderstood me because he said that this sort of thing just plain old wouldn’t be allowed to happen at my level.

I was curious as to exactly what had set me off. And exactly why, So I gave my imaginary therapist a call (I have her on speed dial.)

So, someone got hurt sparring today?

Yeah. He was ok later on. I think, it was just a hell of a shock to the system and he needed a bit of help. Someone mentioned something about possible concussion.

I understand you didn’t do so well with watching that?

No I needed to sit down, and cool off. It happens a lot when I cut myself, or when other people get hurt. I’m really bad in the kitchen with knives and cutting myself because I just can’t deal with blood.

So it’s blood that sets you off?

Yup.

But there was no blood.

Maybe it was the suggestion of blood.

The suggestion of blood was enough to set you off?

There might have been blood. He could have broken his nose… At any moment blood could have started pouring out.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that I don’t like the idea of someone being hurt. All I know is I see a person in extreme unexpected pain and it’s scary, and I need to sit down so I don’t fall down. Or throw up.

Is it because You’re worried about it happening to you?

Not particularly.

So not at all?

Maybe a tiny bit. But that’s not the bit that makes me all light headed and fainty. I don’t like watching people get hurt.

So why are you doing Taekwon-Do then if you don’t like watching people get hurt? You know there’s always the chance that something will go wrong - there’s even the chance that you’re going to hurt someone.

I know that they take a lot of precautions in the dojang, and at the end of the day, it is a physical sport and accidents happen. And yeah I’m really worried I’m going to hurt someone one day. But at this stage mostly what I’m doing is so ineffective that it’s more likely I’ll hurt myself.

Or accidentally kick someon in the balls because I don’t lift high enough in some kicks. I’m very paranoid about that. Once my brother chased me through the house with a knife because I kicked him in the balls.

It was so effective at stopping him from being a little shit, that I’ve been scared to do it again until I really need to.

Seriously you kicked him in the balls? And your parents didn’t ground you for life?

Yeah I had anger issues back then. That’s not the point of this phone call though. We were talking about how I understand that accidents can and will happen.

Right, of course.

So you understand that something could go wrong, and yet when it happens you still get fainty and need to sit down? I’m not sure I understand your logic.

I know. It’s freaking weird, and I’m not sure there’s actually all that much logic involved. Here I’ll simplify it:

Taekwon-Do is physical, there is always the small chance that someone could be hurt, it’s a fact of life. I’m cool with it.

When people get hurt they make scary sounds, and there may be blood. I’m not cool with that. In fact a lot of the time I’m so not cool with it that I have to sit down and visualise my happy place with a cold bottle of water on the back of my neck.

It matters very little to me how the blood got there, the fact that there is blood is enough to make me want to throw up.

Right, blood… But you’re a woman… What happens when…

It’s unpleasant, but it’s fine. It kind of has to be fine otherwise I’d be fucking screwed right?

Right. Sorry I know it’s not a professional question to ask, you know me being your therapist and all…

I know… it’s just the first question that pops into everyone’s head when they find out how weird I get over cuts and stuff.

I know, I know, It’s getting old… Last time I post this. Promise…. It’s just a much better camera angle ect.

Last night I arrived at Taekwon-Do to find a bunch of younger members wrapped up in protective padding and attempting to beat the living heck out of each other.

In one corner was a crying 10 year old surrounded by a group of people assuring him that it was just a hard hit. On the other side of the hall two white belts were being restrained with a hand on each head by a black belt who was trying to install the idea of gentle punches. By the looks of the resulting match the idea didn’t get very far at all.

‘Hmm’ I thought as I tried to become one with the coat table, ‘I’ve always wanted to spar, but this doesn’t look like an awful lot of fun.’

The juniors finished and us seniors formed up, warmed up, and then went in search of adequate padding. (At the time I was thinking adequate padding would be nothing short of a giant blow up sumo suit.)

For sparring we received a pair of padded foot protectors, some gloves - like open handed boxing gloves - and optional headgear. Those in the know had also brought along shin guards, mouth guards, and the guys had groin guards.

I hovered in the background until I was ordered up onto the mat for my arse kicking. I dragged my feet the whole way -  I wanted everyone to know that it wasn’t my idea to be pummled to death by a tall guy with a very cool belt.

The foot protectors made my feet feel clumsy, and my toes hurt where they rubbed (later I found I had worn the skin off the top of my big toe - ouch!) The gloves weren’t as heavy as what I was used to - and much more rigid than my own boxing gloves. And the head protector was flat out awful.

Jamming my face into a spot where someone else’s sweaty face had been moments before was unpleasant. The elastic strap across my chin more than often sat on my throat, and in some cases was far too tight for comfortable breathing - in the end I discarded the head protector, and just went with a ladies agreement not to hit or be hit in the face (although I get the feeling guys don’t exactly play by those rules.)

On the mats I felt slow, and stiff. My kicks were often not high enough, and I stuck with the one or two I knew I could do without arsing over. Often others had the same problem though, and after collecting a sharp kick to my hip bone I know why we stay above the belt - even for girls - OUCH. 

My blocks often felt entirely ineffective. A lot of the time I forgot to jump right in after my partner had struck out. I got a lot of help from a few of the guys who made me practice jumping right on in there after a kick rather than hanging back out of range.

I also had to learn not to stand front on, like I did in kickboxing. Thankfully after a few solid kicks to the stomach you learn not to leave yourself wide open like that, unless you like the feeling of trying to suck air through a straw, that is.

Worst of all it felt like I only knew three moves from the first page of the manual, while everyone else had the whole book.

Each time I was called up to the mats I went reluctantly, probably chewing at my lip the way I do when I’m worried.

And I was - worried that is. I don’t like being bad at things - and I really don’t like being kicked in the stomach or punched in the face…

… So do me a favor and don’t tell anyone that I totally loved it, ok? Good.

_____

The text I sent immediatly afterwards: I just did proper sparring and it hurt and it was awesome :) 
The response: You’re a violence-aholic

I was sick yesterday. Sort of. Actually I was probably less sick, and more exhausted.

I dragged my sorry carcass out of bed at 7.30 (about an hour late.) After a moment of two staring into the mirror I decided makeup and brushing my hair was too much. so I threw on a black shirt that may have once been ironed, and a pair of pants that weren’t black. Then I scrunched the first product I found through my hair, and called it done.

Sleep walking got me all the way to work, and once there everything seemed to get worse.

My tummy hurt, and I felt distinctly motion sick. Also the sleep thing became an issue, when I found myself actually napping on a pile of unopened mail.

I got through the Semi Urgent Pile of Crap, held my breakfast down through sheer stubbornness and determination not to hurl, and then told my boss I was leaving.

The second I got outside the building I felt better. I remember wondering if it was possible that I disliked my job so much that just being in the building makes me sick… The bus ride home made me queezy, so I decided that that probably wasn’t it.

In Miramar I dropped into the salvation army and impulse brought a couple of puzzles and some cute little Chinese bowls that I will, in all probability, never use. Then I walked home and only felt like hurling once, right after I realised I didn’t have my house keys.

Louise was home, and we put together most of the jigsaw puzzle, and I napped a lot on the lounge bean bag. I also read stuff on the Internet, and ate junk food - I was obviously feeling better by that point.

I guess sometimes a day on the lounge floor with a bean bag, and a jigsaw puzzle is exactly what you need.

Oh and I guess you could count the impulse buying and junk food was sort of a celebration I guess… If you can call striving towards obesity and diabeties a celebration… I passed my grading and am now a 9th Gup white belt with a yellow stripe. It’s still a white belt, but as one of my friends is very fond of saying; accessorising is everything.

On the same night that I got my yellow stripe I also got it sprung on me that the tournament coming up is pretty much considered mandatory for Miramar Taekwon Do, and better yet, there’s going to be several teams doing patterns together - and since there is now 5 new yellow stripes… coincidence! That’s enough for a team!

Luckily I’ve pretty much got the basic steps of this next pattern down, but I’m guessing doing it in a competition it will be more about doing it in time, and with the same style… So scary, but fun scary.

Also I really should get my ass into gear and call Kat about maybe going diving again…