Origin

As if I didn’t have a hard enough time trying to figure out what I want to do (life, education & career-wise), my boss at the company I’m interning for goes and offers me a full-time job @ 45-50k/yr. WTF? So it’s:

1) Be the first to complete the master’s combo,

2) Attempt to complete the combo while working full-time,

3) Drop a degree and go to school part-time, OR

4) Quit school and follow the dough.

D’oh.

Change is on the wind. Anticipation is a mother…

At first there was nothing new to recount. Then I couldn’t think of what to say. Some time later I fought an inward struggle, lamenting on what I would do were I not accepted into graduate school. Soon after, I was accepted. Since then, I’ve had my keester handed to me countless times while blundering through my first semester. Now, I bask in victory. Maybe in the near future I’ll have something profound to say. Not yet though.

About this time last year, on the drive back to Orlando from a skills test in martial arts in Boca, my former senpai, turned instructor looked to me and asked “Why do you practice martial arts?” I believe my answer went somewhere along the lines of: it replaces the role music once had, in that it requires complete focus, forcing the mind to contemplate one subject and act upon it with all of its ability.

Now I sit here asking myself the same question, attempting to know exactly why I choose to pour all of the “extra” time I have into training. Wondering if my current state of horrid health, a result of an overtaxed immune system by way of a seven hour aikido seminar, followed by an intense night of conditioning, is truly worth whatever I’m seeking.

In the course of a year, three of my favorite senseis moved on to pursue careers and enter the next phase of their lives.

One is the old wise man. The guy who doesn’t look to be an aikidoka, or practitioner of any martial art. In fact, he appears a smaller version of Santa Claus. Until he steps upon the mat. Executing every technique with smooth aplomb, aikido translates as a mere effortless extension of his very being.

Then there’s the drill sergeant. The dude who runs a 26k for normal exercise and scoffs at the notion of drinking water during practice. Hard core is a title hard fought; and no one achieves it easily on his watch. When he steps onto the mat, whether you’re yudansha or senpai, expect to be rocked harder than the Gators did the Buckeyes all year.

Perhaps most influential of all my instructors, is the one who was once senpai. Shorter than I and calm in demeanor, once decked in gear for kumite, aggression ran rampant. No one could outfight this cat. As a dedicated student of the art of combat, he formed solutions to defeat every style of fighter. Be you tall, short, squat or lean, of kung fu, shuri ryu or jujitsu, he possessed a lethal plan of attack of concise proportions. But that’s not why he remains so influential.

Four weeks before that car ride back from Boca, he told us senpai that we would run with him everyday in preparation for the test. A month after the test, he would make us fight him, exploiting our weak points and forcing us to concoct strategies for any type of fight. For knowing when to push and how far to push students, that’s where the influence comes from.

After attaining the rank of 6th kyu (green belt), one has to decide if she or he can embrace the lifestyle of a practitioner of the martial arts. Any advancement from then on demands sacrifice. Time, health and ego all share space atop the chopping block. Even then, partying, nights on the town and hanging out are often traded for conditioning, pain, scrutiny, adhering to a system of hierarchy and more pain. New skill sets aside, to contemplate scaling the ladder, is to determine whether all of that is worth a newfound sense of self.

Finally my test of mental measure has arrived; the prelude to the physical test to come. As I sit here demoralized, in the midst of a health rut, I realize I must influence myself. Why am I still training? That newfound sense of self hasn’t quite kicked in yet. And that elusive peace of mind that comes from attaining a level of focus unparalleled, still isn’t quite within my reach. So, it’s off to the dojo I go.

One month and one week remains of my undergraduate career. One month and one week of sheer combustible energy that not only must be healthily mustered but properly directed. As I look forward to more application deadlines, tougher training sessions, longer morning jogs, weight lifting sessions, research conundrums, cram fests and fits of exhaustion, I marvel at how indefinable time is.

To prepare for the onslaught, I decided to start today in relaxation which denotes one thing; washing my car. Though fresh into its 7th year of existence, and taking on a few sunspots to boot, my car deserves a good bath like any other and for some inexplicable reason, a sponge, hose, bucket and 6-gauge nozzle usher tranquility. While my efforts will be rendered futile given a week of Florida’s pollen and lovely avian life, the quiet of the morning and gorgeous weather make it a fair deal.

Soap and suds aside, a new source of inspiration to successfully accomplish my goals has appeared:

I shall see TOOL perform in the Amway Arena on May 31st.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I found out TOOL is posting dates for their stateside tour! To add to my elation, Serena Williams won yet another Australian Open, a highly unlikely event according to the media. Gotta love the underdog effect. Nothing could be better, save for a combination of the two…

Life is good.
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Avoiding important tasks is one of my few specialties, which also happen to include losing mechanical pencils but that’s not particularly important at the moment. What is essential is the 38 degree weather threatening my very existence in the usually habitable state of Florida. So while I should be finishing up various assignments and running errands, I’m idly surfing the web in my cozy room. For no particular reason, well perhaps out of sheer curiosity, I googled a certain wheel cleaner that I bought for my Saturday’s fill of washing and detailing both my car and my mother’s, while at home for the weekend. Of the abundance of pages that came up, one in particular directed me to the WordPress blog of a fellow whose post focuses on cleaning and detailing. And so began my fascination with WordPress. Here I type before you; a convert. Bah. (That’s my sheep impersonation.)

Kahu