Conversations With My Martial Arts Students:

As another session of karate wraps up for the summer, I am reflecting on the interesting encounters I have had over the years. Here are some of the conversational highlights from my teaching career.

“Please stop licking the walls” (it comes up surprisingly often)

“The style of karate you are learning is not kung fu” (it may not seem amusing to you, but when you have to make that distinction about every 2-3 weeks to the same group it becomes funnier)

“I find it hard to believe that hitting me in the back was an accident when you started at the back of the room and the drill did not include the movement of legs or feet”

“Your question is; what should you do if a Samurai tries to hit you with his sword?” (The answer, of course, is call me or at least take a photo for me – just where are these children hanging out?)

“No, I don’t live in Japan” (bitch of a commute to work that would be! side note, adults have also asked me if I plan to move there and when I respond that I would love to but what would I do, they assure me I should teach karate....in Japan....to the Japanese....I'm sure to make a killing! )

Me: (to students hesitant to do as they are asked) Do you know how to say “no” in Japanese?”

Students: shaking their heads side to side

Me: EXACTLY!

Me:  You don’t want to lean forward when you punch as that will put you off balance. It also brings your forehead closer to your opponent, which we generally try to avoid

Adult male student:  (pointing to his frontal lobe) I’d rather take a punch here (then pointing to his chin) then (sic) here

My teaching assistant:  Looks like you already have

Adult Female Student: (upon my demonstrating the proper pivot for a sidekick) that can’t be right, that looks stupid

Me: My mistake, it’s your 2 second class, I’ve been teaching for 6 years; naturally you know better

Student: I couldn’t believe it, she was dropping c-bomb after c-bomb (I have borrowed the “saying I can’t will get you 20 pushups” rule which I strictly enforce, and thus the phrase “c-bomb” was born)

“It’s not so much that you take off your warm up pants after skipping, it’s the way you make a production of tearing them off in the manner of a male stripper” (dear friend, you are sadly missed)

This one actually occurred in the hallway of a rec centre I teach at. Two guys walked past me, one wearing a "Tap Out" t-shirt, went quite a distance down the hall and then one of them said

"Nice belt, did you buy it at the flea market"
To which my my teaching assistant, without a moment's hesitation, responded
"You tap out so often they gave you a t-shirt, huh?"

The Morning Man

Every Monday morning for about two years now I have encountered the same man at the bus stop. In all that time he has never glanced at me or shown any visible sign that he is aware someone else is near. There is also an older gentleman who often joins us and he and I exchange pleasantries and polite conversation. Morning Man remains stoic amid this conversation. Hoodie pulled over his head regardless of the season; he just sits and stares up the hill in the direction the bus approaches from. I thought this behaviour a little antisocial so I enlisted the opinions of friends. They suggested the behaviour was not so much antisocial as outright weird.

Perhaps long bus rides to work give me way too much time to think, but I wonder if this man were ever to be mugged at the early morning bus stop, would he be able to give an accurate description of his assailant to the police? Is he as unaware as he seems? Does he suffer anterograde amnesia and so every Monday morning is a new experience for him?

I’m tempted to show up one Monday in a gorilla costume to see if he notices.

The Next Five Years: A Photo Essay

Start at the pub. Drink until one of the patrons becomes a soul-mate

Soul-mate identified, you'll need a dress

You'll want to look your best on your big day

Indelible proof of your love

You'll need to entertain your guests

Mesmerize the crowd with your first dance together as husband and wife

Everything you need to set up your home

and live happily ever after

I originally posted this photo essay to facebook but I felt it needed it's own space. All these stores and services are located in the same strip mall in Ajax, Ontario. I used to pass it every day on the bus and always thought it was so serendipitous that, of all the stores that could be put together in a plaza, these establishments came together perfectly to tell an impossible story.

Respect Anachronism

I’m not generally prone to nostalgia. Quite the opposite, I tend to assume things will continue to improve otherwise what is the point in continuing? I have no use for the days of “good old family values" which allowed a man to beat his family without fear of the neighbours calling the police and saw young women enter university with the sole purpose of getting an Mrs. before their names rather than a designation after it. I do, however, believe in respect and that apparently makes me very old fashioned. Here is my quick guide to etiquette:

Lateness: When you are chronically late you are telling others “I think my time is more valuable than yours and thus it is ok to make you wait.” You may very well think you are more important but that is not how others perceive you. They see you as disorganized, unreliable and flakey. (Kudos to Anna, who is always punctual, if not early).

Mobile phones: Take a lesson from emergency nurses and triage your communication with others. The person who has taken the time to physically be with you deserves top priority and your undivided attention. Next, phone callers and last, texters. Having a phone conversation or texting when you are with someone tells the person who actually made the effort to see you that you would rather be spending time with someone – anyone else. If that is how you feel by all means go spend your time elsewhere, we’ll both be better off. (Shaun, Mike K, Paulina and Jaime thanks for always making me feel like I am the reason you left the house whenever we meet up).

Meals: It is never ok to begin eating before everyone at the table is served. Period. Also, body fluids and dinning spaces don’t mix; when you are around food keep them on the inside. Please excuse yourself to blow your nose; you’ll want to wash your hands immediately after anyway....won’t you? (I wish everyone could experience dinning with Hien, always the consummate gentleman at table).

Baseball caps: They are not fashionable and wearing one does not make you an athlete. Unless you are painting, renovating or it is required as part of your food service industry uniform, take it off indoors. (None of my friends wear baseball caps; they’re a stylish bunch with great hair).

Doors: It’s very simple; he or she who gets there first holds it open for the person behind them even if that person is a stranger. (As a side note, my friend Nick still offers a lady his arm when taking a stroll and yet very much seeks to associate with women who will challenge him. I’m trying to convince him to come to Canada and hold workshops).

Here’s one that is perhaps a little nostalgic and most likely to meet with disagreement. I do miss the days when someone picked you up by getting out of their car and knocking on your door and got out of the car again to say goodbye when dropping you off. A text from the driveway is the digital equivalent of a honk. (I bow respectfully to Jennine and Craig, possibly the last two people on the planet who still do this).

To those of you seeing your manners in this blog (whether specifically named or not), I appreciate your refinement and how wonderfully aware you are. Thanks for being charmingly you. 

Shhh, Let Us Not Spoil this Moment With Questions

There are certain leitmotifs which have been the steady undercurrent of my young (shut up) life. They often take the form of someone attempting to disguise a “witty” (read insulting) remark by forming it into an oh-so-clever and original question. If Taoist philosophy is to be believed, one must give away what one wants to receive so I shall give earnest answers to rhetorical questions in the hope that only authentic conversations are returned to me.

No, I am not related to the Kennedy family. Ok, there might be a thread connecting us somewhere, but if there is, it is a very, very long and extremely weak one. Sorry, I can’t get you an invite to Martha’s Vineyard – you don’t want to go there anyway, it’s full of inbreds.

Obviously I am not a “dead Kennedy” or this would be a séance.

I don’t shop in the children’s section for my clothing, but I sometimes do for my shoes, which I then don’t have to pay taxes on. Who’s snickering now?

I cannot, in fact, just eat and eat and eat and never get fat. You mentioned something about a bet?

No, I do not actually have to register myself with the Police. They don’t care. An interesting urban legend and I have no idea how it got started but as my friend Ben put it, “would that mean if we didn’t register our weapons the police could confiscate them? Let me get the hacksaw; put your arms and legs on the table.”

I can show you what I would do if someone grabbed me like that, but it’s not going to be cute and harmless and you are going to hurt like hell.

No, I am not too small to be a black belt. Are you aware of where karate originated? Screw it, let me go get a map and my power point presentation.... and maybe the hand puppets....

Square Pegs Connected to Round Dots

I have a yahoo email account, which means that in order to read all those missives of love sent to me on a daily basis (ahem) I have to get past the “news” page. Usually I manage to ignore all the gossip and self help articles that pass for yahoo “news “ but I confess, this one piqued my curiosity and I had to read it the way you must look at an automobile accident as you pass no matter how hard you try not to: http://ca.news.yahoo.com/eerie-links-between-harry-potter-bin-laden-203434253.html  from Rueters, no less! Immediately I started to imagine how this article came to be written. A frustrated novelist-turned journalist is taking a creative writing class at the local community college in order to improve his chances of publishing and is given the following assignment, “take two things that you normally wouldn’t put together and connect them in a short story.” While on a 10 minute break mid-class his editor calls and tells him about Bin Laden’s death and asks him to submit his article before the run of paper, there’s only one possible way to complete both requests on deadline....

I decided to take the same approach for my blog, so here is my news report on a recent oil leak in Alberta

Friday’s oil spill from a leak in the Rainbow pipeline in Alberta, which closed schools due to children becoming sick from fumes, invokes chilling echoes of the 1979 science fiction film Alien where a foreign substance enters into a crew member’s bloodstream causing him to suffer illness. Also like Alien, this spill is likely to have many sequels.

Hyperconnected, Terribly Disjointed

I’ve linked myself in, tweeted, emailed, texted and put in lots of facebook time. I am as connected as a woman could possibly be and yet I still haven’t a clue about what is going on in the life of too many of my friends. I suspect the more connected we become through technology, the greater and more embellished our public personas become and the more thwarted our real selves are.

I have gone entire weekends without stepping outside the house. It’s not something I am proud of. I also suspect that among my acquaintances, followers, fellow twits and faces few would ever guess that about me. The more able we are to communicate quickly, the less we seem to tell each other.  Perhaps we stay in touch more, but we barely say anything.  A text cannot replace a phone call and neither come close to the type of genuine exchange you get from sitting face to face with someone and actually speaking with them.  So, dear friends, I’m pulling the technological plug, sort of speak. As of tomorrow, I will communicate with you in full sentences (and full words). I will invite as many of you as I can to join me in outings, and to the rest, who are dreadfully far away, I will write letters. Perhaps they will be electronically delivered but they will contain as full a thought and language as I am capable. Let the new (old school) social experiment begin!

If you can’t reach me over the next little while, look for a garden, I’ve probably stopped there to smell the roses and maybe read a book, the kind you still have to turn pages on.