random thoughts

So sad the US team lost today. Good run, boys. Better luck next time.

Excited for the Germany/England game and the Argentina/Mexico game. Lots of alcohol will be consumed over the course of two back to back games.

Excited about getting Glee swag from a friend.

Training was very good today and I wasn't even on the mat for half of it. Learned to use the center, push forward the energy, and be confident.

Know what your goal is and take steps to get there. It doesn't matter if you make mistakes, you just have to adjust.

Fake it 'til you make it. You don't have to have perfect skill to have confidence.

Tried the Chimay white...I like it!

I can't find my Germany jersey!!!!

playing around with photoshop

back from a week trip to hawaii. got some great photos and realized that taking a good photo is just knowing where to stand. anyway, having random photos has afforded good fun with photoshop like making a fake blur.

Discoveries

So in my quest over the last year to learn the art of wing chun, I've come to the conclusion that learning any kind of martial art is 25% physical and 75% mental. Okay give or take some. Watching the grading yesterday really drove it home for me because I realized that most of the time, it's not that I don't know the technique or how to do something, but that I don't trust myself or I don't believe it will work. There are mental blocks that are there whether it's the fear of doing it wrong or looking like an idiot or whatever, but those are the things that really me from having the confidence to go in there and do it. Well here's to self-discovery. It's good to recognize these things because it makes you realize what's holding you back. And in the beginning it's some of the physical stuff like footwork or how to properly angle your center in relation to the attack and block. Whatever. But more and more it's what's going on in my head that subconsciously is holding me back. Good to know but frustrating at the same time.

Ok so I'm trying out this blogging from my phone business. This may be bad considering how attached I am already to this blasted thing.

The Hogwash

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I read over labs and theory

Over a large forgotten tome of Anthro lore

While I nodded trying, working, suddenly there came a snorting

As of some piglet from my chamber bed

“Tis imagination,” I muttered “Playing tricks upon my weary head.”

Only this, then off to bed.

Ah distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December

And each separate page left ghostly imprints in my memory store

Eagerly I wished the morrow – but so much work, oh such a sorrow

From the Australopithicine to the Homo sapien line

Was a long, dry history, with many species, oh so fine

What a waste, I whine and sigh.

Then the snorting from the chamber from the depths of porcine slumber

Scared me, filled me with fantastic dread I had never felt before

So now I stood, to pace unceasing, mumbling, blabbering, and repeating,

“Tis the weariness and the hour.” Silently to myself I swore.

“Just Hogwash lying on my bed,” as I paced before my chamber door.

This is it and nothing more.

Presently my heart grew stronger, feeling sane and crazy no longer,

Back to work, and truly to finish – all this reading will soon be over.

Then no more of work and reading. End the night of needless fretting.

But the paper I was reading held no interest or mystery store.

But then from the corner came once a gain, the soft and happy little roar.

But Hogwash only, and nothing more.

Around the room, scanning, peering. Long I pondered wondering, fearing,

Doubting whether sanity my mortal being ever held before.

But the silence was not shattered, and my gaze on Hogwash fell

And the only word was uttered, was “Hogwash” did my own lips muttered.

Edging slightly to the door, with Hogwash’s gaze into me bored.

Only this and nothing more.

Back toward my desk I turned, with my stomach all a-tingle

Again I heard the little snorting, somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” I laughed, “Surely it is my stomach growling.

Let me see then, what there is to eat from within my freezer store.”

Let me convince myself that there is no mystery here to explore.

Tis my stomach and nothing more.

Frantically I ran to my freezer door, when from a far a louder snore,

Sounding like a throaty chortle, from the plushy little boar.

I stared into his fat, round head, stopping to question my state of mind.

But perched here on my goose down pillow, glassy eyed and slightly hollow

Perched as if from regal stock, the stately Hogwash gazed afore.

Perched and sat and nothing more.

Then this pinky pig beguiling, all my tired mind to fancying

My mind now hung from silken threads, lacking mental clarity

Though thy head be squat and squishy, and thy body flat and plump

Thou surely cannot ere be talking for thou art merely a cotton lump

So why then am I sitting here, speaking to his small pink rump.

Quoth the Hogwash, “Never more.”

“What!” I screamed, my heart a-pounding, was the pig to me disclosing

Was I mad or was I dreaming, to have heard my piglet speaking

For we cannot but help agreeing, that no sane mortal human being,

Ever has heard a plushy doll utter words as though it were breathing

Perhaps the hours was too late, and my thinking was all too poor.

But again it whispered, “Nevermore.”

Fear, my mind now in its clutches, seeking for some rational

But blankly staring up at me, so cute there could be nothing foul.

I tried to push the pig away and turn back to my Anthro core

But scarcely had I chanted through the history of the Human line

I heard again the word being muttered, and my sanity it did wore

Quoth the Hogwash, “Nevermore.”

Freaking, screaming, pacing, dancing, round before my chamber door

“What,” I shouted at this pig, with the little smile it wore.

I must be dreaming some ill dream, where pigs wreak havoc on my brain.

It even makes me think in rhyme and vocabulary I have never gained.

Til the poem of this madness of my little energy drains.

“Nevermore” did he refrain.

But the Hogwash still beguiling, all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I hurled a cushioned ball directly at the rounded head.

Then into my arm chair sinking, I betook my thoughts to forge,

What was meant by all this talk, or lack there off ‘cept one single word.

What did all this really mean, speaking from a stuff-ed boar.

Again he said it, “Nevermore.”

“Argh,” I yelled in his direction, with no thought of the attention

I was surely getting from my neighbours through the thin wood door.

Maybe I have always had a tiny voice…oh am I mad?!

Into the closet corner crawled, hiding behind a coat of wool,

Maybe if I count to ten, this whole thing will all be over.

But quoth the Hogwash, “Nevermore.”

“Prophet,” screamed I, “Are thee of evil? Art thou pig or of a weevil?”

What’s a weevil, I thought, Methinks it’s only for the rhyme.

But still this pig, this cotton toy, played on my nerves, that was its ploy.

And suddenly the answer came, upon my soul like waves on shore

I planned to use the same attack, the battle started, this now was war.

I quoted with Hogwash, “Nevermore!”

Silence at this half dazed cry, but yet at me he looked so sly.

So slowly I sat in my rolling chair playing the game of wide-eyed stares

When from a distance I heard a call as though an echo in a very large mall.

My name it said repeatedly, in song and lively movie score.

I felt the tug of that misty call, so from the pig my gaze it tore.

I mumbled now, “Nevermore.”

Quickly I ran outside my door into a freezing corridor.

I heard the calling of that voice. It sounded like my roommate Grace.

Then from my wretched slumber woke, to see my roommate at me poke.

“What are you doing?” came forth the demand, for now I lay on the carpet floor.

Oh sane and hard reality, of thee will I from now adore.

Only a dream and nothing more.

Grading

Another grading has come and gone. I find myself increasingly dissatisfied with each of my gradings because I just see all the things that need work on. But I realize that dissatisfaction doesn't necessarily mean discouragement. It simply means that I'm still only touching the tip of the iceberg and the rest remains unexplored. There is always something more to work on and perfection doesn't really exist. Grading just happens to point those things out in front of Sifu and everyone else. Always working on something, tweaking it, redefining it, messing with it. Satisfaction only comes when either I stop training or I become so egotistical and big-headed that I can't see my faults anymore. I hope neither have to happen. Grading is a humbling experience, but serves to stoke the fire, to push me to train harder. I relate it back to piano and how even after having played something thousands of times, I still find something that needs to be worked on. It definitely is a cyclical learning process.

taylor the latte boy

this makes me laugh everytime i listen to it...