July 14, 2009
Transformation: Form of Pincushion
Sewing is not my thing. It's never been, not even when I was able to hand stitch pillows together in Home Economics class, not when I tried to make MC Hammer pants. I've just never been good at it or enjoyed it. I've always been a little jealous of those who can sew outfits, curtains, whatever. It's just not me. In fact, the sewing responsibilities usually fall on Mr. BBM in this household. I just don't have the patience for it. I can't even make a button stay on a coat longer than a day or two.
So you can imagine how frustrating it was for me to see that I had to sew a patch on my new black belt. Black belts are like the thickness of a California Redwood tree. Sewing anything onto them is especially challenging.
The night I was promoted, I asked Mr. BBM if he would sew my patch on, but it was late when we got home and it didn't happen. The next night, I asked him to try.
He broke two needles in the process, the thread tore halfway through the project, and it was barely on when all was said and done. Half of it was lifting up so I ripped it off and decided I could live for a class or two without my kobudo patch sewn onto my belt.
Last week, I went to the fabric store in search of Patch Attach. I've heard wonderful things about it and figured the couple dollars was well worth it. I came home and opened it up. Mr. BBM promptly threw the instructions away. I discovered this while he was at work. He's a lucky man.
I looked it up on the internet and found the instructions. You're supposed to apply the glue and then let it sit for 10 minutes before affixing to the fabric. So, I prepared the patch and promptly forgot about it, never getting the chance to glue it onto the belt. I even set a timer. Unfortunately, you can't hear a timer when you're outside helping your daughter ride her bike.
I came inside, noticed my mess-up and scraped all the Patch Attach off with my fingernail. I applied the glue again. This time I followed the directions, waited, and then pressed it onto my obi. I had the iron waiting. I followed the directions exactly. I finished with the iron, picked up my obi and off fell the patch.
You've got to be kidding me.
I repeated the process by scraping the glue off again. I also cleaned off the surface of my belt. I even scraped the back of the patch a bit with a knife just to make sure the glue would take the second time around.
It didn't.
Mr. BBM came home to find me in a fury of frustration. I wanted to get mine on before Lil C found it and decided to shove it down the air conditioning vent, like she sometimes does with random Cheerios she finds from time to time.
So today I went back to the fabric store. This time I took my belt and the patch along. I walked up to the woman who looked like she sews wedding gowns over her lunch hour and asked her what I needed to make this work.
She led me to some curved needles and I then went to find the most heavy duty thread I could find. I couldn't find fishing reel so I settled for coat thread. I also bought a thimble. Mr. BBM's fingers could have strained pasta when he was finished with his first attempt. I knew he wasn't going to volunteer to help. This time it was up to me. This time, I wasn't messing around.
Tonight I settled down around 10 p.m. to start the kobudo patch project. I went through several transformations during the 70 minutes it took me to sew that patch onto my obi.
I became my Mom. . . "Oh for Pete's sake. . . ".
I became my Dad. . . "Son of a . . . . "
I became a hypochondriac. . . "I think I have arthritis or something. Why is this so freaking hard to get the needle through? Why do my fingers hurt so badly? Something must be wrong with me!"
I became Big I. . . (throws head back and moans audibly so the entire house can hear before making horrible sounds with my throat and then almost screaming out "WHY? WHY? WHY?" while watching myself make horrible faces in front of a mirror before realizing that I'd wake up the girls and that might make things even worse).
I became my father-in-law as I thought, "Now who could I get to do this for me? Who's better at sewing than I am? Who could I compliment right into them doing this for me?" (I realized the answer to a better person was "everyone" but that no one was really biting to help).
I became Lil C as I contemplated having a snack instead of putting myself through any more of the torture.
I became a pin cushion, literally, as I stuck the curved needle right into my middle finger and out my skin a centimeter over from the starting point. Ouch.
And then I turned back into myself and decided that this too was part of my black belt test; this too was a mountain I'd have to climb, a test of my patience and ambition. I assured myself that I could do it, and I did. It may have taken me 70 minutes. My fingers still hurt typing this now, but it's done. The kobudo patch is on and I can officially go back to the status of "not sewing" again.
Unless of course, someone is looking for MC Hammer pants, in which case, we'll talk.
July 13, 2009
Visiting the Old Haunts and Corrupting the Children
On Thursday morning, Mr. BBM and I packed up the kids and headed off to Pittsburgh. A couple months ago, my parents took Big I to the "happy valley" or as we Pitt grads like to call it, "enemy territory." She came home with a Penn State hat and a Penn State t-shirt for her little sister which is currently being used as a cleaning rag residing at the bottom of her drawer. Big I also came home with the idea that she was going to attend Penn State one day. Mr. BBM and I have been silently biding our time.
The time was Thursday.
We arrived in Pittsburgh and when she saw the Cathedral of Learning, she was intrigued. Who wouldn't be?
We quickly passed by the Pitt campus and went to one of my favorite places where I waitressed while in school, the Union Grill on South Craig St.
Everyone who reads here knows that I kind of watch what I eat and try to eat healthy. It's part of the martial arts lifestyle (or should be anyway) and I do my best to eat well. Well, for the past four days, I ate really well, but not exactly the healthy way.
My favorite thing to eat when I worked there was a cheddar cheeseburger (that was seriously like the size of my head) along with a generous side of garlic roasted mashed potatoes with mushroom gravy. I used to make myself feel a little better by putting a slice of tomato on top of my burger. Vegetables, you know.
I did the same thing on Thursday and I enjoyed every single bite of that delicious enough-calories-for-an-entire-week meal. The mashed potatoes and burger which have frequented my dreams over the years tasted the same. It was like the entire world disappeared when I was eating that meal.
After gorging ourselves, we headed a few blocks over to Pitt's campus. We both knew that the girls would be impressed with the Cathedral of Learning so we started our tour there. Big I and Lil C both thought it looked like a castle and couldn't believe that we had taken classes in that building. We took them up to the 36th floor and showed them the rest of the campus and the city from above. They were impressed.
Next we walked through the library before taking them to the fountain in front of the Frick Arts building.
We let them walk around in the fountain with their shoes off and we knew we had them both. Happy what? That's right.
The art building was equally impressive and they enjoyed walking through the countyard garden around the fountain on the interior of the building.
Then we let them ride the new carousel on the lawn. After that, Mr. BBM bought them some kind of Asian bubble drink. We knew we had them both at the Cathedral. We were laying it on thick and they were loving it.
"So what do you think?" we asked Big I.
"I'm so going HERE!" she yelled out.
We bought a Pitt sweatshirt for Lil C and a new Pitt hat for Big I and we drove off to drop off Mr. BBM for his business meeting.
We spent the night in a nearby area with Renovation Girl and had a great time. I literally ate my way through that entire visit too. I need that orzo recipe RG!
In the afternoon we went back to Pittsburgh to retrieve Mr. BBM and decided we'd have dinner at Johnny's Place on North Craig St., the place where Mr. BBM and I met many years ago, instead of fighting with traffic to get out of the city. It wasn't 20 seconds after we walked in and Johnny was already asking us how we've been. I swear the man forgets no one.
Johnny and his wife Karen, used to keep their place open late at night and it was the place to be in North Oakland back in our day. Johnny used to mix up new shot concoctions and let us try a pitcher of them on the house to see how we liked them. He always had the best drinks and the most amazing food. His burger rivaled the Union Grill's and his wings. . . there is no comparison.
Several years ago, Mr. BBM had a trip out to Pittsburgh. He asked me if I wanted him to bring anything back for me and I told him "wings from Johnny's." They survived a flight home beautifully and I was a very happy girl. When we walked in, Johnny immediately asked Mr. BBM how those wings turned out after the long trip home. It was like no time had passed. It has been at least six years.
Most wings are too gummy, not cooked long enough and either drowning in hot sauce or completely dry. Johnny's Place has the most perfect wings; and one of these days when this wonderful couple retires, we're on the list for the recipe. The heat is not overwhelming, but just right and there's this spicy hint of asian sweetness to the sauce that is just amazing. Many of the Pittsburgh Steelers have signed his wall and call ahead to get their wings there too.
We sat at the bar with the girls and like old times, Johnny gave us one round on the house. Each time we have gone back over the years, it's been like visiting old friends, old friends who really know how to entertain.
Johnny's Place is currently for sale and there's no telling how long they'll continue to remain a glorious little spot in Oakland for wings and conversation. But as long as they're there, we're going to continue visiting.
I'll deal with the extra ab exercises that this weekend's caloric intake will require. It was so worth it. Pittsburgh, I really miss you sometimes.
July 7, 2009
The Desire to be Better
Tonight there were only three of us in class, including the teacher. Allow me to let you in on a little secret. Even when you're a black belt, it's still possible to be the one on the training floor with the least amount of experience. It's still possible to feel like a complete and total beginner.
I had sort of hoped that the promotion would bring with it less self-doubt and that I'd catch on to stuff more quickly but that's definitely not true. Where are the black belts with super powers people? Mine was not pre-loaded! Tonight I had to resist the temptation to tap it and say "Is this thing on?"
We started off with simple moving blocking drills and then, as always on Monday night classes, things got a little more challenging. Soon we were working on off-balancing techniques. Then it was no longer in a straight line and it was free form. One attacker, one person working the techniques.
I found myself getting really frustrated at times. For the most part, I was able to get out of the way of the incoming attacks (besides the overhead strike that landed on my eyebrow and a few others that didn't repel away from me like I had sort of hoped they would. Oh yeah, and minus the time I went skidding across the floor on my butt like some cartoon character), but I was putting myself in such a position where I was eliminating any opportunity for a counter-strike.
Thankfully my teacher, who's been taking martial arts since he was practically in diapers, has super powers. He seems to have the ability to be able to read my thoughts, notice exactly what I'm doing wrong, and simultaneously figure out how to help me fix it.
It happens in baby steps, but at one point I was not moving on the 45 naturally and an hour later, without even realizing I was doing it, I was moving the way I was supposed to be moving. He mentioned that I was doing it right, at which point I probably thought about it and screwed it all back up again; but that's just me and the way I train.
Working drills like these can be so overwhelming. It's impossible to think about your feet, the way you move, your hands, keeping a point of contact with your attacker, figuring out a way to off-balance your attacker, and even just breathing, all at the same time. That's the whole point though. You're not supposed to think about it. You're supposed to feel it and just let things happen (Tell that to a control freak like me). Turning the mind off is perhaps the most difficult thing of all to accomplish.
By the end of the night I was far from perfect, but I was a long way from where I had been only two hours earlier. This is why people continue to train, because you are always learning something new and the desire to be better than you were two hours ago, two weeks ago, two months ago, two years ago, two decades ago, is a constant pull on a martial artist who truly loves the martial arts.
July 5, 2009
The Beginning and No Super Powers
There have been two common questions when my family and friends heard that I was successful at my black belt test. Yesterday, my grandmother watched the DVD and then said, "Well now that you're a black belt, you're done so you can be at home more with your children, right?"
"No Grammom!" I told her, "this is just the beginning." I explained to her that most of my training time is in the evening, and that a good portion of it happened when my girls were already in bed.
"Well what do you do now? You're already a black belt."
"You keep going and you keep learning and training," I told her.
I've been absolutely shocked by the number of people who think that getting a black belt is the end. For martial artists, this is just the beginning. I was telling Mr. BBM about the conversation with my grandmother and said that it would be like going to the grocery store for a ton of food and then not cooking any of it, instead just letting it rot away. It would be like working hard to get a degree and then deciding to take a job that requires no education or experience. What's the point?
The other question I've been getting is "How does it feel to be able to kick anyone's butt?" That one just makes me laugh. My sister asked me the other day and I explained to her that the black belt does not hold super powers. It doesn't make you invincible. Anyone who thinks that is setting themselves up for a very rude awakening. I told my sister that what feels best about getting to Shodan is knowing how much hard work I put into it and reaching a goal that I thought was previously unattainable.
These videos are for John of Martial Views, by special request. The first is kata Wansu. Click here if you can't see it below.
Here is Seisan. . . If you can't see it here, click here.
July 3, 2009
Black Belt Means Starting All Over
Tonight was my first night back in the dojo since annual training and testing. There was a sea of black belts in attendance. I now know why people say when you get to black belt, then you're really ready to learn.
We wasted no time getting into black belt kata territory. I spent a lot of time being extremely lost. I kind of felt like a white belt all over again. In addition to several new open hand kata, we also worked a kama kata. For those who don't know what kama are, they kind of look like sickles, you know, those crazy hacking things for fields? Yeah those.
Experienced black belts often use bladed kama. Hanshi handed me wooden ones and I was grateful. I think I would have taken foam if available. I wasted no time dropping one of them. When you have to swing them around between thumb and pinky finger, it gets a little overwhelming, especially when you're also trying to get your feet and hands in the right location and direction.
Hanshi made a joke and had us all drop our right kama to the floor so we could get it out of our system. Then another black belt dropped his and I felt a little better. It's amazing how much less it bothers you when you drop a weapon when it's not black belt testing.
At the end of the night, we lined up to rei out. It was such a thrill to line up where the yudansha stand, on the side. There are three more of us now and I think I can speak for us when I say we're pretty excited to be there.
Tomorrow morning, I'm meeting one of the other new Shodans who will now be known on BBM as "Tree Trunk." "Tree Trunk" makes working wrist locks especially challenging, which is how he got his name. His wrists are about five times the size of mine and they just don't bend. It's really not fair, but that's another story. We're meeting at an embroidery place to have the kanji put on our gi jackets. Then we'll officially look like we belong in black.
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