"Hand over the twinkies and nobody gets hurt"
Every once in a while I hear a news story about someone robbing a convience store and wonder what the hell were they thinking? Did they think convience meant convient to rob? Were they too lazy to rob a real store? I should think the cashier in the women’s shoe department at Nordstroms’s would have more money than a 7-11.
Even if I were desperate enough I couldn’t commit robbery. Too Stressful and the logistics- too complex.What do I wear that’s inconspicious yet assertive enough to say “Hand over the money punk.”besides I’m not good at ordering people around. What about a getaway? I don’t drive and asking someone to be an accomplice is such a personal thing to approach friends with.Using a gun is out of the question, way too dangerous.
If you had to rob a store I say make it fun for everyone. Dress up as a clown, hit the clerks with cream pies and silly string if they resist. Make your getaway vehicle an ice cream truck. This is not only less stressful but is embarrassing for the store clerk when they have to describe the theives to the police. The headline alone is worth it: ”Store robbed by somce clowns” well, what else is new?
Friday, March 28
Thursday, March 27
The Blue Monster
The hulking blue monster moves slowly, its crablike arm reaches out, hesitantly at first lest it startle it’s prey, then cheerfully grabs and downs the food into its hungry mouth. It growls in delight as it scurries on in fits and starts, searching for more food.
Thursday is garbage day and that means it’s time for my favorite weekly entertainment, watching the recycle truck as it goes down the street. We use large blue cans to put all recyclables in; paper, plastic, newspaper and so on. The Truck looks like an ordinary garbage truck with a large enclosed trunk, painted blue. This one has only a driver though, no beefy guy jumps out to empty the cans into the back. Instead an articulated arm comes out of the side, just behind the cab, gently takes hold the bin and dumps the contents into the bed from overhead.
The amazing part is the skill of the driver as he navigates down the narrow street and around parked cars to get as close as possible to the big bins. He operates the controls for the arm with his left hand while watching his progress in the rear view mirror. It’s a joy to watch a master at work.
Thursday is garbage day and that means it’s time for my favorite weekly entertainment, watching the recycle truck as it goes down the street. We use large blue cans to put all recyclables in; paper, plastic, newspaper and so on. The Truck looks like an ordinary garbage truck with a large enclosed trunk, painted blue. This one has only a driver though, no beefy guy jumps out to empty the cans into the back. Instead an articulated arm comes out of the side, just behind the cab, gently takes hold the bin and dumps the contents into the bed from overhead.
The amazing part is the skill of the driver as he navigates down the narrow street and around parked cars to get as close as possible to the big bins. He operates the controls for the arm with his left hand while watching his progress in the rear view mirror. It’s a joy to watch a master at work.
Tuesday, March 25
Chasing the Rainbow
As a child whenever I saw a rainbow after a storm I would put on my shoes and race out to find the pot of gold at the end of it. If I found it, it would be the solution to all our problems and we wouldn’t be poor anymore. My mother smiled at my naivety.
For months now there have only been one or two other students in class which made me really feel like an advanced student. I eagerly put on my gi, ready to show what I knew. Recently we got a bunch of newbies and I was working with a beginner on a basic wrist hold. They hold your wrist with one hand and you line up with their ki then step forward, pivot and end up at their side. Every time I tried to move I collided with the student allowing him to grip me tighter, getting me nowhere fast. I felt like such a dork. This is easy, surely the sensei’s never have this happen.
Later I was working on the same hold with an instructor in the ki class in Portland. Maxson Sensei is truly a master at understanding the use of ki. Needless to say I was having the same problem and he pointed out what I missed. You can not tense up as you move or you collide with your partner and give them something to fight against. You must relax and move while continuing to extend ki. I explained my previous failure with a white belt and he smiled knowingly.
“We all feel like that at times.” he sympathized.
In that moment I realized that chasing rainbows with a goal in mind is folly. The pot of gold isn’t riches or finding that perfect job, spouse or that degree. The real pot of gold is in the search itself.
For months now there have only been one or two other students in class which made me really feel like an advanced student. I eagerly put on my gi, ready to show what I knew. Recently we got a bunch of newbies and I was working with a beginner on a basic wrist hold. They hold your wrist with one hand and you line up with their ki then step forward, pivot and end up at their side. Every time I tried to move I collided with the student allowing him to grip me tighter, getting me nowhere fast. I felt like such a dork. This is easy, surely the sensei’s never have this happen.
Later I was working on the same hold with an instructor in the ki class in Portland. Maxson Sensei is truly a master at understanding the use of ki. Needless to say I was having the same problem and he pointed out what I missed. You can not tense up as you move or you collide with your partner and give them something to fight against. You must relax and move while continuing to extend ki. I explained my previous failure with a white belt and he smiled knowingly.
“We all feel like that at times.” he sympathized.
In that moment I realized that chasing rainbows with a goal in mind is folly. The pot of gold isn’t riches or finding that perfect job, spouse or that degree. The real pot of gold is in the search itself.
Thursday, March 20
Thank you for not fighting
My instructor informs me of the importance of challenging yourself as you get ready to test for Shodan. To push yourself beyond your limit. I know my limit her name is Teri. Now Teri is a nice, person. Sweet, funny and a great photographer. She also happens to have a strong non fighting mind. What is that? It's the opposite of me.
I like a fight, give me a conflict, a point of view or principle to defend and I will rattle my saber with the best of them. You want to get thrown, I'll throw you baby, no problem. Teri has a maddening habit of not being easily lead. Her attitude seems to be "No, I'm not going to play that game but if you want to, go right ahead- without me." Grrr. she will stay put unless you lead her mind and not her body. No amount of pushing, pulling or cajoling will work.
So I'm training with her the other night and it takes me four or five try's to get the move right because I'm trying to drag her along in my usual manner. I'm sweating and groaning and my inner demon of self doubt is screaming at me "You worthless piece of shit, you know this art, what the hell are you doing?!" I finally broke down in tears I was so frustrated.
I also have this belief, ingrained in my bones that if I make a mistake at any time- that's it, I stop. I cut ki, show's over folks, Alisa has left the building. This, Robson Sensei tells me, is unacceptable. If I get stuck just relax until you can move.
No way my inner demon retorts. I don't buy this for a second. Try it anyway she insists. Ok sometimes you have to humor people to prove your point, I thought and went at it again. Teri attacks by grabbing for my wrist, I blend, turn and promptly get stuck. Relax, I tell myself and like snow melting in the hot sun I feel myself relax and Teri follows along as I move.
Wow, Did I really do that? I can't believe this and we repeat the attack. Once again I get stuck and relax as commanded by the sensei watching us. Relax and I'll be damned if it didn't work again.
This is a major breakthrough folks. We're talking cosmic significance here. I knew it as I stood there in shock. Is this for real? Can I actually correct a mistake without having to start back at zero? Is it possible to go on even after messing up? My technique improves immediately. I can do this.
"You're doing fine. " she reassures me.
"But I'm not. It takes me four or five try's to get it right."
"That's ok you're getting it."
"Yeah, but I can't do that during the test." I complain.
"Have you screwed up in a test before?" she asks. Well no, now that I think about it.
I apologize to Teri profusely for what I think is a bad performance but she will not hear it. Like the non fighting person she is, she will not play that game but if I want to continue buying into this nonsense feel free to do so -without her.
Maybe this non-fighting thing is not so hard to understand after all.
I like a fight, give me a conflict, a point of view or principle to defend and I will rattle my saber with the best of them. You want to get thrown, I'll throw you baby, no problem. Teri has a maddening habit of not being easily lead. Her attitude seems to be "No, I'm not going to play that game but if you want to, go right ahead- without me." Grrr. she will stay put unless you lead her mind and not her body. No amount of pushing, pulling or cajoling will work.
So I'm training with her the other night and it takes me four or five try's to get the move right because I'm trying to drag her along in my usual manner. I'm sweating and groaning and my inner demon of self doubt is screaming at me "You worthless piece of shit, you know this art, what the hell are you doing?!" I finally broke down in tears I was so frustrated.
I also have this belief, ingrained in my bones that if I make a mistake at any time- that's it, I stop. I cut ki, show's over folks, Alisa has left the building. This, Robson Sensei tells me, is unacceptable. If I get stuck just relax until you can move.
No way my inner demon retorts. I don't buy this for a second. Try it anyway she insists. Ok sometimes you have to humor people to prove your point, I thought and went at it again. Teri attacks by grabbing for my wrist, I blend, turn and promptly get stuck. Relax, I tell myself and like snow melting in the hot sun I feel myself relax and Teri follows along as I move.
Wow, Did I really do that? I can't believe this and we repeat the attack. Once again I get stuck and relax as commanded by the sensei watching us. Relax and I'll be damned if it didn't work again.
This is a major breakthrough folks. We're talking cosmic significance here. I knew it as I stood there in shock. Is this for real? Can I actually correct a mistake without having to start back at zero? Is it possible to go on even after messing up? My technique improves immediately. I can do this.
"You're doing fine. " she reassures me.
"But I'm not. It takes me four or five try's to get it right."
"That's ok you're getting it."
"Yeah, but I can't do that during the test." I complain.
"Have you screwed up in a test before?" she asks. Well no, now that I think about it.
I apologize to Teri profusely for what I think is a bad performance but she will not hear it. Like the non fighting person she is, she will not play that game but if I want to continue buying into this nonsense feel free to do so -without her.
Maybe this non-fighting thing is not so hard to understand after all.
Friday, March 14
Not 911
“This is not 911 what is your non emergency?”
I get stressed easily and a lot. Those who know me, know I tend to overreact to situations. That’s an understatement. I freak out, I lose all semblance of reason. I run around like a chicken with it’s head cut off. I am not a pretty sight to be around. Stress causes me to imagine the worst case scenarios.
“So you’re writing fiction again?” My friend Martha remarked at my latest bout of hysterics.
You get the picture.
I worked for a blind woman who was in the process of moving to another place and she was overwhelmed and freaking out over some minor glitch that has nothing to do with the big move. Calmly, quietly I reassure her this is natural, normal and she needs to relax.
Wait, don’t hit that irony button yet.
My brother calls me with his latest fiasco, having to buy back his own bass guitar from the asshole pawn shop owner who bought it from someone who stole it from said brother. He would rather strangle the dude than give him money for what is rightfully his. "Dude," I said "chill out." There is a careful, methodical way to screw this bastard, just be cool.
Ok, now you can turn on the flashing irony sign.
I’m dealing with stress far better than I ever thought possible, I realized after dealing with these two mini crisis's. If it weren’t for my aikido training, which I credit for giving me this fortitude, I would be a babbling over medicated heap.
I still write fiction.
I get stressed easily and a lot. Those who know me, know I tend to overreact to situations. That’s an understatement. I freak out, I lose all semblance of reason. I run around like a chicken with it’s head cut off. I am not a pretty sight to be around. Stress causes me to imagine the worst case scenarios.
“So you’re writing fiction again?” My friend Martha remarked at my latest bout of hysterics.
You get the picture.
I worked for a blind woman who was in the process of moving to another place and she was overwhelmed and freaking out over some minor glitch that has nothing to do with the big move. Calmly, quietly I reassure her this is natural, normal and she needs to relax.
Wait, don’t hit that irony button yet.
My brother calls me with his latest fiasco, having to buy back his own bass guitar from the asshole pawn shop owner who bought it from someone who stole it from said brother. He would rather strangle the dude than give him money for what is rightfully his. "Dude," I said "chill out." There is a careful, methodical way to screw this bastard, just be cool.
Ok, now you can turn on the flashing irony sign.
I’m dealing with stress far better than I ever thought possible, I realized after dealing with these two mini crisis's. If it weren’t for my aikido training, which I credit for giving me this fortitude, I would be a babbling over medicated heap.
I still write fiction.
Monday, March 10
Does This Make My Butt Look Fat?
The hakama. Black, wide pleated pants that are a basic piece of Japanese wardrobe I have been chasing for many years. A sign of rank, a black belt. Sigh. Excuse while I have a moment. Ok I’m done.
When I finally got to order one, I was so excited. Then I found out I had to reveal the waist size and inseam of my beer keg physique. Jeesh not even the CIA knows that. My name also had to be stitched on the right hind side and as I suspected McLaughlin does not translate well into Japanese. This was confirmed when I got said garment and showed the label to Bob Jones Sensei, the resident expert on the language.
“Do you pronounce it macgloflin with the soft f sound like laugh?”
“No, it’s maclocklin, hard sound.” I really I wanted gankyo game - stubborn turtle- either that or wide load, put there instead. He shook his head no, it has to be your name. Guess which pronunciation they used? It comes out as “Makurafuin”. Yuck.
Like the Scottish kilt, the hakama was designed for men which means it looks great on them but not on us ladies (and black is suppose to be slimming too, hmm). I look like a garden gnome. Put a cone hat on my head and stick out in the front yard. They are too warm in the summer and you frequently step on the low hemline when standing up from sitting seiza.
The other thing is how damn long it takes to get and out of them so you can forget about going to the bathroom in a hurry. A male friend told me he found a way to cheat by pulling the pant leg of the hakama and gi all the way up. The one advantage guys have over girls- bastard. The front half is held in place with a sash that you wrap twice around the waist, mine could circle the earth several times. The back half is tied around in a fancy bow on the front. An entire class of black belts looks like a flock of penguins.
Strangely enough, despite all the formal inconvenience, I like wearing one. I feel like I perform better. As a sign of respect you ask to fold the sensei’s hakama after class but I feel very possessive and won’t let anyone fold mine. I’m not an instructor yet anyway so it doesn’t feel right to have anyone else do it.
When I finally got to order one, I was so excited. Then I found out I had to reveal the waist size and inseam of my beer keg physique. Jeesh not even the CIA knows that. My name also had to be stitched on the right hind side and as I suspected McLaughlin does not translate well into Japanese. This was confirmed when I got said garment and showed the label to Bob Jones Sensei, the resident expert on the language.
“Do you pronounce it macgloflin with the soft f sound like laugh?”
“No, it’s maclocklin, hard sound.” I really I wanted gankyo game - stubborn turtle- either that or wide load, put there instead. He shook his head no, it has to be your name. Guess which pronunciation they used? It comes out as “Makurafuin”. Yuck.
Like the Scottish kilt, the hakama was designed for men which means it looks great on them but not on us ladies (and black is suppose to be slimming too, hmm). I look like a garden gnome. Put a cone hat on my head and stick out in the front yard. They are too warm in the summer and you frequently step on the low hemline when standing up from sitting seiza.
The other thing is how damn long it takes to get and out of them so you can forget about going to the bathroom in a hurry. A male friend told me he found a way to cheat by pulling the pant leg of the hakama and gi all the way up. The one advantage guys have over girls- bastard. The front half is held in place with a sash that you wrap twice around the waist, mine could circle the earth several times. The back half is tied around in a fancy bow on the front. An entire class of black belts looks like a flock of penguins.
Strangely enough, despite all the formal inconvenience, I like wearing one. I feel like I perform better. As a sign of respect you ask to fold the sensei’s hakama after class but I feel very possessive and won’t let anyone fold mine. I’m not an instructor yet anyway so it doesn’t feel right to have anyone else do it.
Saturday, March 8
Growing old is not for sissies
I just turned 48. Another year and little to show for my life. No career, no relationship, no future. Oh people say I shouldn't be so down I have my health and all etc. Yeah well so what? I have nothing to inspire me and getting out of bed every morning is getting tough when there's little motivation. My writing and aikido are the only things I got going for me right now but neither pays the bills. The problem is- I'm not happy.
Happiness is sometimes hard to find. It defies definition, it's different for everyone. It's not a goal in itself but a state of mind. One that eludes me now. This bitter feeling will wear off in a few days but it always returns when I sit and think about where I have not been in life. Then I'm back to wondering if I missed some important message that will lead me to happiness.
Monday, March 3
Shinsakai Competition
I went to Shinsakai and all I got was a lousy t-shirt
Every year in Portland there is a competition called Taigi Shinsakai where all the regional dojo’s get together and show off our stuff. This also allows the senior instructor Tabata Sensei see what the teachers have been teaching to their students.
Our group heads up at an ungodly 6: 30 am to get there first since we are running the event (each dojo takes turns doing so). I’m not a morning person and didn’t get much sleep the night before so I don’t reach consciousness until given a large cup of tea after we arrive. My job is to organize all the t-shirts and awards given out and I get it done quickly.
The morning is taken up with the kids division. Now it would seem like fun to watch children in their cute little outfits rolling around on the mat and trying gamely to do these complicated techniques and the large contingent of parents wielding cameras confirms this. I found it almost painful to watch. “No, no, that’s not the way to do koteroshi. Don’t bend over, watch your - aggh I can’t watch any more.” I wanted to scream. Instead I fled to the other room to dither over work I finished an hour ago.
I didn’t get to play until the last division in the late afternoon and we were the last to perform. I was trying to stay awake after long hours of standing around doing mostly nothing and a heavy lunch- I knew I shouldn’t have had that second sandwich. Since I had to wear a hakama like everyone else in the division, ( all brown and black belt ranks) I refrained from tea or coke at lunch to prevent any trips to the bathroom. I have a weak bladder and nature does not call to me, it screams. Taking off a hakama with the multiple sashes tied around the waist is not a quick thing.
The competition was stiff with several top students who regularly win every year. I decide to ride the wave and have a good time. "This is my space. I own the mat" I tell myself as we stand and wait our turn. Aside from a few glitches her and there, I think we did pretty well. I get through it without forgetting anything and I'm not too winded. A good sign.
Howard, who started training when I did, but is much more advanced in rank, cleaned up in two categories. He was as calm as the sea on a windless day as he lead his younger partner around without a ripple. Smooth. He truly was the eye of a typhoon.
Needless to say my partner Steve and I did not get any prizes.I wasn’t expecting any but I got lots of compliments from the senior instructors and that was award enough. At least we placed higher than the kids from our dojo which saved us the embarrassment of having our asses kicked by teenagers.
I know everybody says the prizes aren’t important and it’s all about improving yourself, blah, blah but dam it, it is about the prizes. There’s always a touch of disappointment that I didn’t get a ribbon or medal to add to my meager collection. I mean, come on, it is a competition.
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