Jinx
I don’t want to say anything that will jinx us. All I’m going to say is that our showing yesterday went very well. I feel strongly that good things are just around the corner.
In other news, Lil C decided that a full frontal brush burn of her entire body would be cool. I’ll just say: tip of nose, above the lip, both lips (think Mick Jagger), and both knees. Unlike Big I, Lil C stopped crying as soon as I picked her up. She let me wash her boo-boo’s and didn’t even care that she had blood all over her shirt (and mine).
Last night, we drove over to look at our reserved lot. Mr. BBM took the girls out onto what just looks like a field now and walked all around. I stayed in the car and grinned ear to ear. I won’t allow myself to touch it just yet, too afraid I’ll jinx it for all of us. I couldn’t help but think that if we were there, Lil C’s injuries would have been grass stains instead of blood.
I have a feeling we’re going to be there soon.
Offer
The wishy-washy people have put an offer on our house in writing; and people, it is not a good one. If I had to compare it to something, I would say that the feeling from this offer is reasonably close to how I felt after eating bad scallops.
A half hour before we were told they were officially writing it up, we got a call for a showing on Wednesday. We also have an open house on Sunday. Something tells me that St. Joseph is working and everything is going to work out.
If you’d all like to assume the "crossed" positioning once again, I sure would appreciate it.
The Ultimate Martial Arts Insult
It is the ultimate insult if you’re a martial artist, to be told that you attend a "mcdojo." It’s a nasty word in the martial arts, and one that can instantly start a debate. To be accused of spending your time and money on something the equivalent of packaged french fries is just plain infuriating; yet it happens all the time, especially on the internet where computer keyboards can be the equivalent of a seriously nasty sucker punch.
So, what is the official definition of a "McDojo"? According to Wikipedia, the definition of a McDojo is used to "describe a martial arts school where image or profit is of a higher importance than technical standards." It can also be described as this: "While using the term McDojo primarily indicates judgment of a school’s financial or marketing practices, it also implies that the teaching standards of such school may be much lower than that of other martial arts schools, or that the school presents non-martial arts training as martial arts." Finally, a third trait of a "McDojo" is this: "’McDojo’ is also a reference to the proliferation of such schools in many communities in the United States and many other nations, in much the way McDonald’s restaurants have proliferated."
It always amazes me how easily the term "mcdojo" is thrown around the internet. Someone finds a picture or a school website, is feeling insecure themselves, and they decide to start a virtual public stoning amongst their online friends sporting solely internet muscles. Picture of a woman in a gi while pregnant? It has to be a mcdojo. Pictures of kids learning martial arts. Definitely has to be a mcdojo, right?
Wrong.
There are plenty of schools out there who pop up, sign people up to long contracts, and then pack up and move elsewhere. But this isn’t even really a "mcdojo." This is just plain criminal.
The truth about the term "mcdojo" is that it’s subjective, and usually those slinging the mud are the ones who are most insecure about their own training and lineage, or those that have no legitimate training at all. It’s also a common insult among martial artists of differing styles. Personally, I’m not interested in learning grappling and I am thankful that my particular style doesn’t really rely on that as the root of our system. But just because your style is almost 100% grappling doesn’t mean it’s a mcdojo and vice versa. There are different styles for different people. That certainly doesn’t make your style, or mine, wrong.
While more contemporary martial artists might think that old school traditional styles are a lot of hocus pocus and silly spiritual stuff, the truth is that many classical martial artists enjoy this aspect of it. No, we’re not participating in seances to bring back the dead masters and we don’t think we walk on water either. It’s just that the precepts of our styles that centered around humility, respect, and self-analysis make sense to us and compliment what we’re learning in the dojo. A style that teaches a martial art without expressly laying out parameters of when it’s o.k. to use it, especially when teaching kids, is just plain irresponsible. It’s not hocus-pocus; it’s just good old respect, and good martial artists highly value it.
Some of us are learning a martial art for self defense purposes while others just enjoy the martial arts for the peace it brings to their busy lives. But what one person gets out of their martial art doesn’t have to be the exact same thing that another person gets from theirs. It’s truly an individual experience for each person, one that shouldn’t be insulted because it’s not just like the one you do. Sometimes the easiest thing to make oneself feel better is to put others down; but truly the more worth while thing to do would be to figure out why one feels the need to insult other people without knowing anything about them. A little self-discovery never hurt anyone.
Is it frustrating to see 5-year old black belts walking around with bad attitudes to match? Certainly. But if you truly know the value of the belt wrapped around your waist, and more importantly what’s in your head and your heart, then you must know that not all black belts are equivalent. It’s not how hard and fast you kick and punch. It’s not even how many kata you’ve collected in memory, or the color around your waist. It’s knowing that what you’re getting from your dojo is quality, both physically and mentally, and more importantly what that all means to you.
For me, the martial arts has never meant trying to pick apart what’s wrong with everyone else, but rather the ways that I can improve myself whether it’s kata, attitude or something else entirely. How is this different from any other activity that one might do? If you play soccer, you hope to become a better player and you enjoy the good feelings you get from practicing hard or playing a game to the best of your ability. If you’re a musician, you take joy and pleasure in learning a new piece of music and playing it well. With every other activity that’s out there, there is a mental reward for the physical hard work. We don’t think athletes and their post-game endorphins are hokey or silly. The martial arts is really no different.
Yet Again
Mr. BBM talked to our realtor this morning. There’s still no word on the wishy-washy non-deciding people who are making me more cranky than usual. My realtor asked if we could have Open House number FOUR this weekend. He says he’ll be promoting it with a ton of directional signs, ads in the real estate and business sections of the paper and in the real estate weekly. Plus, the signs will go up early in the week, as opposed to last time.
Mr. BBM told our realtor he’d have to ask me if it was o.k. While still on the phone with him, he asked me and I made a face that could only mean one of two things: 1. I’m going to kill you now or 2. I’m going to kill you later. Mr. BBM took that to mean that it was o.k. with me. I guess I need to work on my "want to kill you" looks.
I’m sick and tired of cleaning my house like a mad woman so that random strangers (and lots of nosy neighbors-not those of you who read this blog) can come eat a handful of chocolates and traipse through my house with no intention of making an offer on it. I’m tired of baking cookies for these people and scrubbing little areas of my house that no normal person would ever clean. I’m sick of second-guessing everything about my house and feeling like our dream home is never going to happen. I’m trying to be positive and hopefully when the rain leaves this week, it will help me get in the right state of mind.
Our contingency agreement expires again on Friday and although I’m fairly certain our builder will extend the agreement, I’m tired of stressing about it and worrying about when we’ll be able to finally move. Maybe instead of cookies, I should serve strong mojitos and beer and tell our realtor to bring along a mortgage person. Maybe I should just make some jello shots instead. Beer goggles are a proven fact with people; maybe it would work with pink counter-tops as well.
Frustrations and All
Last week, I left the girls alone in the living room for exactly two minutes so I could transfer clothes to the dryer. In that small period of time, they managed to spill my entire glass of iced tea all over my white carpet. I had to climb into the crawl space to retrieve the carpet cleaner, not an easy feat when you have one knee that can’t be crawled on.
While I was frantically putting together my little green carpet cleaning machine so that I could get the tea up before it left a permanent stain, I jammed the tip of my finger on the machine and thought I would lose my entire finger nail because of it. While I was cleaning the carpet, the girls fled to their rooms to escape the dreaded loud carpet cleaner and a very unhappy Mommy. When I went upstairs to talk to them about not running around the living room like it’s a track meet, I discovered that they had broken the mobile that was still hanging from Lil C’s bed, the mobile that I happen to have an unhealthy emotional attachment to. I quietly walked to my bathroom and locked myself in there. I needed a minute. I needed a minute badly.
A couple days ago, my Mom and I took Lil C shopping. While in the store, she ripped about 15 pairs of shoes off the racks in an attempt to distract us from the fact that she was pulling the tags off a pair of sunglasses and fleeing the store with them. She may be two, but the girl knows what she wants and is apparently prepared to shoplift in order to get it. As we held up various pieces of clothing she repeated over and over again, "I don’t YIKE that dress." It was a frustrating shopping trip. Enough said.
Today, the girls gave me my Mother’s Day presents, complete with a coupon book for chores around the house (the best gift ever as far as I’m concerned) and cards that they made themselves. Lil C drew a picture inside the card for me. When I asked her what it was a picture of, she said "That’s a bandaid for your knee Mommy."
I love these shoplifting, mess-making girls more than anything in the world.
Happy Mother’s Day.
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