It's been a pretty crappy fall. I won't go into why. Suffice it to say that I got caught in the great psychic clean out for upcoming 2012 (those of you woo woo types who know (the real, not media) 2012 will know what I'm talking about). And good thing I went to Belize earlier this year to learn myself what all the fuss over 2012 is. (Good thing I went to Belize for other reasons too.)
Anyway, one of the results of this has been less time hotarmacizing, as D calls it. Who has the energy? It's enough just to pry my eyes open in the mornings and realize, "Oh, I'm still here."
Damn right, and that "still here" may be the only thing worth holding onto. Though my arm muscles may deflate faster than Shihan's ego (which will never deflate, actually), at least I got them muscles. Or something.
D made me laugh the other day. I hadn't laughed in so long the sound startled me, like it was coming from somebody else. D was telling me about her theory of Ba-Boom Ba-Boom Ba-Boom and Da-Doing Da-Doing Da-Doing (rhymes with "boing").
You see, we inexplicably got on the topic of large breasted women working it in the dojo and naked men trotting around on a nude beach. Get the idea? She tells me she was discussing this after class one Friday with Sensei Mo. I would have loved to have seen conservative Jewish Mo's face as D dramatized this theory.
Anyway, I guess the moral is: Let nothing stand in the way of animating your spirit, whether through laughter or exercise, whether you are a deflated P'ster, a Mayan athlete about to be sacrificed, a large breasted woman landing hard after a flying spin kick, or a naked guy training for a marathon on Sandy Hook's Gunnison (gotta love that name) Beach.
Or something like that.
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