I also noticed that to be a black belt 1st Dan, I have to have trained for a year or more…
Momoyo came down to Perth. I missed seeing her because Matt assumed I’d been informed. It would have been an incredible experience, and I’m sure I would have spent most of the day giggling childishly over her accent. I actually do that sometimes- laugh or smile at people’s accents. Any accents, all accents are pleasant to hear in their own unique ways. Every language has its own expression, and I love hearing them come through in English. I wonder if people impersonate western accents in Japan, and Germany and France. But forgive me, I digress. The very rare, and very exceptional pleasure of Momoyo’s company was sadly forgone, not by choice, but by ignorance. Is knowledge such an evil fruit? I’m sure Matt died some time that weekend, and that joy radiates to me, so I’m happy if a little… hollow.
Now. I had a quick chat with Mr Watson- I’m glad to say we do that occassionally. I admitted over the past year or so I’ve become increasingly cynical. He had the brilliant idea that sure we’re all going to die some day, but I may as well spend that life expressing my cynicism at the very least! Write songs, start campaigns, be daringly witty. It gives me something to live for at least, the idea that I can live life celebrating its evanescent irrelevance. As Edward Elric once said, all is one and one is all. Or something like that. Essentially our bodies are just going to decompose and feed the grass as the circle of life continues. We work within that flow, not against it, to be truly brilliant.
Also, I hurt my leg. Actually I hurt both of them, but my right has taken a lot of abuse from spontaneous kicks. I axe kicked the (head height) branches of a tree today- and I did it reasonably well, too. However, the price I paid in equivalent exchange was my hamstring. Four days before my next grading, I have been working extremely hard to heal myself. Training on Friday and Sat is going to be pathetically prudent, but regardless of height, I can at the very least perfect technique. I’m going for (but not hoping for) a second double promotion. Master Ross hinted (two months ago) that I wasn’t quite worthy of even a single promotion. That’s a blow to my confidence, but if he fails me, I’ll just axe kick him.
And to that last entry- take it seriously if you want. Either way, you probably won’t notice much of a change in attitude, except for the occassional attempt as asshole-dom. Meanwhile I have a much better goal; to silence my voice and open my ears. I’ve tried it a few times, never got more than a few hours. I’ll find a day, a single day, when I can avoid talking to everyone with little consequence ensuing. Can’t be tomorrow (chorale and Taekwondo) or the weekend- I daren’t keep silent when we’re supposed to call out "Yes sir!" to receive our membership cards back. However, I’ll spend as much of that time as I can being taciturn- please don’t take offence if I pick up the phone and reply to you in morse code. Sweet dreams friends.
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(Kxaj odkho nuj nhakkod ke joo xen foefco neict hojfedt av a oloh khaot ke jkudt if veh mojocv nakxeik suhadw veh ekxohj.)
The afters was highly enjoyable too. Admittedly, Ellie and I do not share tastes in movies. However, once Conqueror of Shamballah began (the Full Metal Alchemist movie), things were much better and I cherish the night.
All in all, I guess I enjoyed it. Perhaps I’ve taken on the wrong sort of mentality, but I do kinda wonder if I’d have been happier staying home and keeping the $500.
I felt that was worth sharing anyway.
1. I want to be with Willow.
2. I want to drink, but not necessarily get drunk. So sue me.
3. The combined force of Beth and Willow bitching if I didn’t go would probably kill me.
I wish Liam were there, but alas. I can only wish him luck at Alex’s house and hope that the experience is memorable for positive reasons. As to the rest of my friends, enjoy yourselves and if you dare, tell me about it later!
I need sleep. Although I went to bed at 9 last night, I woke up every forty minutes or so. I lost count of how many times I opened my eyes. I had some wonderful dreams of being at the Ball, and some wicked dreams of running from and engaging in combat with policemen in Spain, and some stupid dreams about potatoes. I’ll have a nap from 12-2:30pm, and will be suited up by 4. Man, this is going to be a sweet ass night. I can’t wait to see the girl’s dresses! And Jack’s suit. Blazing white. I must come up with a nickname for his Lordship. Anyway, rambles over. I may blog again soon with reports (if I’m alive) of the Ball and its afters. So long!
Remember the Learning Performance Seminar? Sophia (whose name I thought was "Shariffah") didn’t flat out reject me after all! It seems she hadn’t had the internet until a week ago and was happy to talk to me. Rejoice!
Blake: "Yes I am. Do you know my poetry?"