Sparring Styles

So, I've been talking to my boyfriend a lot lately about different fighting styles.  Which has gotten me to think about my strategy when I spar.  Now, I'm not trying to imply that I have some expert strategy, in fact, I don't even have much of a strategy to speak of.  I do, however, have a couple of tricks and moves that I favor because they work for me.  So, here's my general strategy:

1. Control: I value keeping myself calm and controlled over anything else.  The thought of losing control, or causing pain where it is not necessary is a concept that really bothers me.  So it is very important to me to stay calm so that I don't get flustered.  This also helps me avoid mistakes.  In general, I try to mirror the intensity of whomever I am sparring.  This makes sure that I don't allow myself to be easily beaten, but I avoid being too intense and possibly hurting someone.  Part of this comes from the fact that I learned to spar in class with people of varying ages and skill levels.  Because of my smaller size I generally ended up partnered with the 10 or 12 year olds.  This meant that in some cases I needed to make sure that I had good control so that I wouldn't hurt someone.  Now granted, some of them were extremely skilled and did not require me to hold back at all, I'm just generalizing.  So, I keep controlled and calm which makes sparring a lot easier for me.
2. Using your opponents force against them: My Sensei from my Issynryu class was also a black belt in Tai Chi, which means that he often emphasized using your opponents momentum against them.  The cool thing about this strategy is that you don't need a lot of strength, you simply re-direct their force and use it against them.  This is something that I am still working on, but it is something that I always try to incorporate. 
3. Kicks: Anyone who has sparred me before generally prepares to be nailed with a lot of kicks.  It's something that I really rely on.  I started doing this after my first belt test.  After I finished the test one of the other students mentioned "You have long legs and you're pretty fast, you should use more kicks."  After that I tried incorporating them more and it worked very well.  I can kick pretty fast and my kicks are a lot stronger than my strikes so it just makes sense for me to use them a lot.  
4. Block then strike: When I first started to spar I had a very hard time incorporating attacks into my sparring.  I would block all day, but I had a really hard time forcing myself to attack.  So, the Sensei's who worked with me told me that every time I blocked I had to strike immediately afterwards.  This broke me of the hesitation to strike and taught me to flow quickly between defense and offense.  I still have a hard time with outright attacks, but now I can generally settle into a pattern of blocking and striking that is fairly successful.  
5. Circling: My instinct, probably from watching people fight on tv was to circle my opponent.  Luckily this turned out to be how I was taught to spar.  I generally try to keep up a fairly steady circling motion so that I am never a direct target.  
6. Lefty fighting: So, I have not completely perfected this yet, but being as I am ambidextrous I figure that I can surprise my opponent and make things difficult for them by fighting left-handed.  If I take a left-handed stance it forces my opponent to do the same making them fight with their non-dominant side.

So, that's pretty much it.  My fighting style, or at least the closest thing I have to one.

Bye,

Chris

No Meat for Me

I have been a vegetarian since the beginning of my freshman year of high school.  Now, a lot of people generally ask me why I decided that, or how I can live without eating meat.  So, here's the best explanation I can give for my thoughts about being a vegetarian.  


So, to start, I can say that I have always had a problem with eating meat.  I remember pretty clearly bursting out into tears in the middle of the grocery store because I realized that lamb meant actual baby sheep.  I always wondered why something had to die just so I could eat.  


Then during the summer before my freshman year I was talking to my parents at dinner one day and I mentioned that I planned on being a vegetarian when I was cooking for myself.  My dad said that as long as I  made sure to still eat healthy there was no problem with me being a vegetarian now.  And so from that point on I haven't really eaten meat.  I'm not perfect with it, but in general I try not to eat any meat/fish.  Generally my family eats normal meals, with meat and I just eat everything else, or occasionally cook something else.  We generally eat a couple of completely vegetarian meals pretty regularly.  


My logic is pretty simple really.  I just am not comfortable with eating something that was killed for my benefit.  Now, I'm not saying that I think everyone should be a vegetarian.  I understand that as human beings we have a biological compulsion to eat meat.  I know that I cannot force anyone else to adopt the same lifestyle and that's really not my goal.  It's none of my business.  However, I just feel like there is no reason that I need to live a life that causes other beings to die for my comfort.  And so its pretty much as simple as that. 


A lot of people ask me about gray areas.  Where I would draw the line.  Would I kill an animal if it was attacking me, would I eat meat if I was starving, do I kill bugs.  And the answer is, there is not always a perfect line.  I just try the best I can to live a life that does not cause harm to others.  Yes I would do what was necessary if the situation called for it, but for my day to day life I can survive pretty well without eating meat.  


And thanks guys! Over a thousand views!


Chris

If All Else Fails...

So, I haven't updated in a really long time and I'm sorry about that.  It is a combination of the fact that I really haven't had a good idea and the amount that I have been working lately (Go Radioshack).  But, I am trying to get back into the swing of it.  


Now, I am finally pretty sure about what I want to do when I get out of college.  I actually have another, serious post planned about that, but that's not what this is.  I am really happy with my decision thus far and am excited to get going with the coming school year.  That being said, I also have the habit of randomly deciding that I am actually going to have a completely different (and completely ridiculous) back-up career.  Now, most of this time this is a result of me either not wanting to do my homework and am whining or the fact that I don't feel like thinking about something that is stressing me out.  But, hey, some of these of really valid options:


Hideous Wallpaper Designer: So, whenever I am doodling/playing Draw Something I have a tendency to draw very elaborate wallpaper.  However, this is probably the most hideous wall paper that ever existed or will ever exist.  It's kind of painful.  So, naturally, I've decided that I am meant to design wallpaper.  Because hideous wallpaper has so many uses.  Don't want your guests to overstay their welcome?  Wallpaper your guest room in my obnoxious combination of colors.  Trying to get a criminal to confess?  Cover the interrogation room in my weird array of polka dots.  It's a good idea, trust me.


Circus performer: Ok, so I am completely not serious about this one.  This is my go to, I don't want to do my homework.  This can't actually happen in real life because a. I've never been to the circus b. I have no desire to go to the circus because of some animal rights issues that I'm not going to talk about right now and c. I have NO coordination.  So, it won't happen, but I enjoy saying it every once and a while.  


Children's Book Illustrator: This one has actually been jokingly suggested to me.  I feel like it would be very enjoyable.  I may not have any actual artistic skill, but I can doodle like no other!

Here's an example of my skill, haha

  I have even written/illustrated a picture book before for my biology class.  It was a story about biological warfare and featured giraffes as the main characters.  Apparently I "made biological warfare cute".  I'm not actually sure if that's a good thing, but I'll but it on my resume anyway.  


Chris 

A List That I Refuse to Call a Bucket List

So, I decided that something kind of fun would be for me to write a list of things I really want to do in my life.  I'd call it a bucket list, but that just seems too morbid.  So, here goes:

1. Write/Publish a book: I may have mentioned this before, but I really, really want the opportunity to call myself an author.  I have always wanted to write fiction, but really anything would be pretty cool.  
2. Walk on my hands (for more than a few seconds): This is a weird goal that I've had since I was little.  It may not be the most profound goal in the world, but you have to admit, it would be pretty cool.
3. Ride a horse, for an extended amount of time: When I was younger I went through a really horse-crazy phase.  And lets be honest, I never really got out of it.  I got the opportunity to ride one once, but it was for a pretty short time and we didn't get to do anything but walk.  Also, I was pretty young so my horse was tied to another one anyway.  I would love to be able to go faster or just ride for a longer amount of time. 
4. Get my black belt: Now, I view martial arts as way more than just achieving belt levels.  And it really doesn't matter what belt level I am, as long as I feel like I am really learning.  However, I feel like a black belt would be a really amazing achievement, provided I feel like I really deserve it by really understanding what I am doing.
5. Inspire people: I want to know that what I am doing will really affect people and hopefully help them.  I want to do this as a teacher, but I would also like to do this as a person.
6. Go back to Maine: I went to Maine on a school trip a couple of years ago and I really, really want to go back!  It was so beautiful there, and I have never found a place that I just truly loved being in so much.  
7. Make a Build-a-Bear: Ok, I know, not very profound.  Don't judge me, it's my list.  I always wanted to do this as a child and I never did....so yeah.
8. Go white water rafting: I feel like this is pretty understandable.  It would just be so cool!
9. Learn some type of dancing: I am not a very graceful person.  It would be a really amazing feeling to be able to do something that requires coordination.  (and hopeful with some type of skill behind it too)
10. Travel out of the country: I really feel like experiencing another country would be a really fulfilling experience.  I'm not really sure where, yet, but I just know that I would like to experience something different.

Alright, there's the ten that are coming to mind right now.  Some a little silly, some serious, and hopefully all will be checked off at some point.  

Thanks for reading,

Chris

Google is NOT the answer to Writer's Block!

Ok, so I've been a little bit bad at updating lately.  The problem is, I really feel like writing, I'm just a bit short on ideas right now.  Which I am sure I will get some more pretty soon, but for the moment I'm a little stuck.  It got to the point where I google image searched inspiration.  I don't know what exactly I was expecting to find....but it was pretty weird.  So I figured I'd share some of it with you guys-because it's kind of weird.   

I was not aware that Inspiration came in a can
but that would be convenient.

Umm, I don't know what this has to do with  inspiration,
but ok then.

Hmm....I don't really know what a moment is supposed
to smell like!

I really don't understand this.
And honestly, it kind creeps me out!

And then pretty much everything else looked like this.

Alright, so I know that that was kind of a cop-out as far as a blog post.  There should be a real one later today.  But this was sort of something fun to get out of my mental block.  And seriously, if anyone can explain that creepy bear picture to me, I would really appreciate it!

That's all,

Chris

Harry Potter!

So, I just read my friend Kaylyn's status which said that this time last year she was watching the final installment of Harry Potter.  And it caused me to think about how influential that series was and is to my life.  

I actually didn't get into the series until after I saw the first movie.  My Mom had recommended them a while before this but, for no reason other than elementary school brattiness, I didn't want to read a book I hadn't found for myself.  However, once I saw the movie I immediately to read the series.  I was delighted to find that the books were even better-by about a million percent!  This was about third grade.  I quickly read all of the books that were out, which was up to the Goblet of Fire at that point.  I absolutely fell in love with them. From then on, I went to every midnight release and usually ended up reading by flashlight most of the new book until I was too tired to comprehend anything.  I was glued to those books.  And I came to love the characters.  I'm not lying, I literally threw The Order of the Phoenix across the room sobbing because they killed Sirius Black.  And then picked it back up 10 minutes later because I had to know the end.  


I loved those midnight releases.  I would go with my dad, my friend Kelsey and her father.  Kelsey and I would stand there eagerly discussing the books and our Dads would come up with their own theories of how the series would end designed to mess with us.  I believe their favorite theory was that Harry would wake up from a dream to find he really was a muggle and Snape was the pedophile next door.  We used to get so mad at that one.  


I also watched every movie aside from the first one in theaters.  My whole family went to see the second movie, but because I was the only one who really had an interest, only my Dad and I saw from three on.  It became a sort of tradition for the two of us.  We would go see the movie, and he would patiently listen to me rambling about how the movie was and was not like the book.  It became one of my favorite parts of the summer.  


I pretty much fell in love with the characters.  Because they are real.  No one is all good or all bad and no one is perfect.  They are relatable.  If Hermione could be valued for being smart and loving knowledge than there was no reason for me to hide my love of books.  And if Ginny, the girl who started the series running from the room and hardly able to speak, could become a powerful witch and member of Dumbledoor's Army then I knew that I would be able to find my own power.  


The last Harry Potter movie came out the summer before I left for college.  And in a way that was perfect.  It was an end to my childhood in a way, and definitely the end of an era.  But Harry Potter will probably always influence me.  After all, "you start to think anything's possible if you've got enough nerve"


Chris

Just Because He's the Villain Doesn't Mean he has to be a Jerk!

Ok, so I just got home from spending a great evening with my boyfriend. We went hiking and then watched Avatar, which he turned me on to and I am starting in love.  However, during one of the episodes, I came to a realization about myself.  It was all because of this guy: 

http://img.poptower.com/pic-14407/zuko-avatar-last-airbender.jpg?d=600

So, for those of you who are like me, and are not all that familiar with the show, this is Zuko.  He is pretty much a jerk, most of the time and is generally trying to kidnap the protagonist and otherwise be a jerk.  Although, I think it is pretty debatable that he has his reasons.  

So, anyway, we're watching this show and Zuko does yet another cruel thing.  So, I do the only rational thing and start yelling at the screen, telling him how he really needs to be a good person.   Ok, it was rational in my mind.  Because the thing is, I just feel like he could be a really good guy if he put the effort in.   I just don't see him as a totally evil guy and I really want him to turn out to be secretly good, and get rid of that awful ponytail, but that's beside the point.  

The real point is that he's the bad guy.  I should probably be hating him, not lecturing the screen about how he needs to fulfill his potential as a good person.  But that's what I do, because I want him to be a good guy. This is much to the amusement of my boyfriend, who just laughs and reminds me that he is the villain so I shouldn't be that surprised if he does something "mean".  

But, that's kind of just who I am.  I am a super-idealistic person.  As long as you don't come at me with a chainsaw, I'll probably believe that you are a good person.  And yeah, I know that that's naive.  I have had multiple people tell me that I shouldn't trust or forgive certain people-even at times the people that I am "mistakenly" trusting have told me that I'm being naive.  But, honestly, I just prefer idealism over cynicism.  I'm not saying that I don't think that people will hurt me or other people.  I just think that most people have at least one side of them that is downright decent.  I just trust that when it's really necessary these people will choose to show this good side.  I think that we all have this good side.  And yeah, we probably all have a downright terrible side to.  We all have the capacity to hurt each other, but we also all have the capacity to choose not to.  And a lot of the times, that's what people will choose.  Maybe even Zuko.  

Anyway, that's all for now.  Just some idealistic ramblings to connect some of my thoughts.  

Bye guys, 

Chris

Books, Books, Books

For pretty much all of my childhood continuing up until now, I have really only had one thing that I have consistently loved to do.  And that is to read.  Books for me, were a way to visit all kinds of different worlds.    I would be bored in school as we reviewed something for the third or fourth time I would go get a book from the accelerated reader shelf and go off into the world of Holes or Anne of Green Gables.  Trust me, it was more interesting than whatever we were doing in class.  Now you would think that teachers were happy that I was interested in reading.  And for the most part, they were.  Except for pretty much every substitute teacher I have ever had.  I don't know why, maybe I just had bad luck with substitutes, but there were very few that I could stand.  

Part of the problem was that I read really fast.  We had our reading speed tested in eighth grade.  The program went up to 750 words per minute.  I either read that fast or slightly above it because the machine stopped and I was only reading slightly faster than normal.  So, in elementary school, I would regularly go through two to three books in a day (partly because most of the books that were in our classrooms were only 200-300 pages).  So, my regular teachers generally expected me to finish reading assignments way before anyone else and were unsurprised if I would put down my textbook after a few minutes and pull out Harry Potter or whatever else I had been reading that day.  On a side note, most of the later Harry Potter books were read by flashlight in the hours after the midnight release.  Those were finished especially fast because I was so excited to know the end, minus time taken to throw the book across the room crying because they killed off Sirius Black.  Anyway, my point is, substitute teachers were not so understanding.  I cannot tell you how many times I had to read something 10 to 20 times before I was finally allowed to say that I was done.  (It never occurred to me that I could just wait until other people were done, I would literally re-read the story over and over).  Also, there were a surprising amount of snide comments made about my reading habit.  I remember one particularly hated sub laughing at me because I was the last to line up for lunch because I was so caught up in whatever I was reading.  Jerk.

None of this in any way hindered my love of books.  I continued to read pretty much whatever I could get my hands on.  My family no longer leaves books lying around, because I will pick them up and read them in an hour and then know the ending before they do.  And not even just novels.  I would read my Dad's car magazines, and I read several chapters of a Sociology textbook that I found on our kitchen table one day.  

 I still read all the time.  I have long run out of space on my bookshelf and keep books everywhere.  I can still spend hours at the library. Because books just have this amazing power to them.  When you read something you are transported to an entirely new creation.  It can even be an entirely different world.  And yet, if it is well created, it is a place that has a lot of the real world in it.  A good story combines all of the magic and imagination and pure creation that we crave to escape this world for awhile with the most powerful emotions and realities to help us face the world when we come back down to it.  I will never stop marveling at the power that stories can have.  How is it possible that only words can create entire worlds, entire people that we feel as though we know?  I can never stop being impressed by that.

I have long wished that I could have that power.  I would love to be able to create characters that are real to people and to be able to use words to help people feel and think and make them want to create too.  I want to be able to to write real life that still has that element of the fantastical.  And I want to write books that are worth facing the wrath of substitute teachers who can't understand a reader when they meet one.  I don't know if I will ever be able to do this.  But until then, I will be happy to read and marvel at what other's create.  

Until next post, 

Chris

Don't Eat Any Paint

Hello everyone, 

So, I'm totally not able to sleep right now.  So, I'm going to tell you guys a story.  So, my last post I mentioned that my first step towards not being debilitatingly shy was a mission trip that I took with my church.  So, here's that story.  

Now, my church participates in this program called Group Workcamps.  This programs allows teens from all over the country to travel to underprivileged towns across America.  During the week that they are there the campers work to paint and repair houses, build wheelchair ramps and porches and otherwise help improve the homes of those who are either financially or physically unable to do it themselves.  Now, I had heard about this program for years and had always wanted to go.  I had begged my parents for years to let me go. Finally, the summer after my sophomore year they decided that I could go.  

Of course, at this point in my life, I was not exactly confident in my ability to work with people that I didn't know.  At workcamp you work in crews with complete strangers.  So naturally, I was terrified.  Add to this the fact that I had never painted a house or done any construction before and you have to wonder why I wanted to go in the first place.

I was terrified that it would end up being a repeat of the leadership conference.  I dreaded the thought of working with people from completely different states.  All I could picture was just watching everyone get along and work together while I was left mute and useless.  However, I am nothing if not stubborn.  I had begged to go, and no amount of sleepless nights beforehand were going to stop me from attending.  

So, I headed off with the rest of our group to Groton, Connecticut.  Tools packed with a note from my parents in my suitcase.  Complete with this advice courtesy of my dad: "Play nice with the other kids and don't eat any paint,"  Eating paint was the least of my worries, but I did my best to keep that in mind.  It was a pretty chaotic experience.  About 700 teenagers all milling around the crowded gym that first morning, trying to find their assigned crews.  I quickly lost sight of anyone I knew as I searched for my crew number.  Eventually, everyone found each other and we were soon bundled into vans and headed off towards our worksite.  We were responsible for painting the exterior and a few rooms inside of this gigantic two-story house.  

We were talking about how to divide up the work and the issue of ladders came up.  Obviously, in order to paint the second story there would need to be some significant work done on ladders.  They wanted to know who was comfortable with this.  There was one minor problem.  Almost everyone was afraid of heights.  I had never been on a ladder before, but I wasn't really afraid of heights, so I figured I would give it a try.  Honestly, I was desperate for anything that meant I could be useful.  I was terrified of not being able to actually help, and being useless as well as shy.  If I could do the ladder work, I would be useful and I would be involved enough that I might even be pulled into some conversations.  

And somehow, my plan worked.  We all had a common goal of finishing the house, and so it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to talk.  That's not to say that I wasn't the quietest person there.  It was a step, not a complete solution. But, it wasn't another leadership conference.  I was able to talk to people and actually make a difference with the work I was doing.  It was an amazing change.  

I remember one moment crystal clear.  I was painting the trim on the top of the house, 40 ft in the air.  I paused for a second to look out over all the rooftops and was just struck by how beautiful the view was, and how free I felt up so high in the air.  It was like I was above all of my fears.  It was an amazing feeling.

I really feel like this was the first step in putting my awful year behind me.  I was still shy after this trip, but it just wasn't the same incapacitating feeling.  I could handle it a little better now.  And I didn't eat any paint!

The end,

Chris 

Pressure

I don't know why this suddenly came up tonight, but I just think that it is time that I tell this story.  It's probably not going to be very inspiring.  It's just a story, of what happened during the worst year of my life.  


Now, I've mentioned that my sophomore year of high school was a time that I really struggled with shyness.  But it was so much more than that.  I nearly let myself completely fade away.  Part of it, I think I can blame on the pressure.  There's always been a lot of it.  It comes with that first little certificate they give you for honor roll in elementary school.  It's basically put on the required reading list for every Honors class, every gifted program every college resume padding extra curricular.  Especially when you are the oldest child in a family that was never given the chance to go to college despite their talents.  It falls on you, to be the first one.  The one to realize the dream that they were all deprived of.  To be the example for the one's younger than you.  And I really can't blame my parents.  Yes, they wanted  me to get A's.  So what? I had the talent and skill to get A's.  Some of the pressure was them, but a lot of it was me.  I had to be that person who was the best, the most intelligent, the one with the highest score, and the most well-written essay.  I wanted to be that, and I feared that I wouldn't be.  


I think now, I can say where it started.  At least, I have a guess.  I was called down to see my counselor.  I was told that I was the top-ranked girl in my grade (I think I ranked third overall) and because of that I had been registered for a student-leader program in Cleveland.  I remember being really excited.  My Mom told me that it meant I had a really good chance at being Valedictorian, and I began to imagine how amazing that could be.  


But then I went to the program, hopes high.  But I didn't feel inspired, or like a leader at all; I felt lost.  I was in a room of hundreds of students and all I could feel was a paralyzing fear.  I couldn't talk to anyone.  I stumbled through the ice breakers and woodenly followed my group from place to place.  I watched my counter-part, the top male student from our school as he traveled through the group, networking like a pro.  But I couldn't even keep a conversation going with him.  We had been in classes together since the first grade.  I barely spoke at all and I don't remember a word of what we discussed.  I remember we went on a tour of Cleveland, which was supposed to be cool, but all I remember was wanting to go home.  I think that might have been where I gave up.


I was shaken.  I realized that there was a really good chance that I would never be that ideal, perfect student, perfect leader.  Suddenly, all I could see was competition.  I watched as everyone around me seemed to excel in every respect, while I just seemed to fade away.  So, I gave up.  And I don't want to admit it, but I did.  I stopped turning in work.  It was a grasp for control, I guess.  And it was terrible.  Because I had the skills to do well, I had the time and I just didn't care.  


And then, Miss-top-of-her-class nearly failed a class.  There were so many arguments.  I remember fighting constantly with my parents because I couldn't explain why I had stopped trying.  I only have an idea now, and who can say if I'm even right?  I remember being to the point of outright panic over school, yet I would continue to dig the hole deeper.  


And I lied.  To so many people.  I lied to my parents about my grades.  I lied to my teachers about the missing work.  I lied to my friends about what was going on.  I hate to admit how much I lied.  It was almost a reflex.  Lie, don't admit that you're hurting, don't admit that you've failed.  Just lie.  


Eventually, the panic got to be too much.  A panic attack before school.  Too many night sobbing after fighting with my parents over grades.  So much dread every time grades were even mentioned. Too much lying to my friends to hide what was going on.  Too much withdrawing from everyone around me.  


So, I fixed everything the best I could.  I got my grades to a reasonable point.  I went on a mission trip with my church and took the first step towards shaking some of my shyness.  I started to talk to some of my friends again.  I got over it.


But, in a way I didn't.  Because as I write this, I still regret what happened just as much.  I still sometimes feel this crashing pressure to fulfill expectations that I don't even remember creating.  And sometimes I still feel incomplete because I didn't fulfill all of my dreams for my high school career, even though it's time that was in the past.  


So, sometimes, that's why becoming this stronger person is so scary.  Because if I do, that means that I can't hide anymore.  There will be people who see who I am and may put their expectations.  It means that people might see me fail and most of all, it means that I probably can't hide a breakdown like I did my sophomore year.  People will notice, and that's terrifying.  


And comforting, I think.  Because maybe that means that it won't go as far as it did last time.  Maybe it won't happen at all.  I can hope.  And maybe I'll finally be able to let go and not feel guilty about that wasted year.  If I can get over it, it won't seem so wasted.  


I don't really have a wrap-up here, or a point.  All I know is that I tried so hard to hide this when it happened and it only made it worse.  So here's one more story I had planned to never tell.  Maybe if I can tell them all I won't be afraid to tell any of the new ones. 


That's all for now,
Chris

I'm Left-handed (I think)

So hey.  This isn't really an insightful post or anything.  It's just me rambling about a really confusing part of my life.  

I would identify myself as left-handed.  And I am, for the most part.  Except for the fact that there are lots of things that I either prefer to do with my right hand or really don't have much of a preference.  Now this sounds like a really cool thing, and it is, I'm not complaining, but it can get really confusing.  

When I was younger, I had absolutely no hand preference.  I would switch hands in the middle of writing, or coloring, much to the frustration of my preschool teachers, who were trying to figure out if I was left or right handed.  This continued up through first grade.  Eventually, and mostly because everyone kept nagging me to pick a hand, I decided that I was left handed.   I learned to write lefty, along with eat and brush my teeth and other basic things.  However, I still ended up doing half of my normal tasks right-handed.  Considering left-handed scissors were nowhere to be found, I just learned to cut with my right hand.  This also somehow translated to how I would use a knife.  I guess I just associated all cutting to be a right handed thing.  The same thing happened with sports.  I started t-ball before kindergarten, so before I had a clear hand preference.  I got a right-handed glove and was taught to bat right-handed because that was what was common.  

So, I kind of have this weird dichotomy going where I am left handed for small-muscle skills like writing or eating, and I am right-handed for large muscle skills like sports.  Which is very possible and makes sense.  But, here's the weird thing: although this is how I function now, I don't think that this is actually true.  

See, over the years as I have tried different sports I have had varying results with either hand.   I can bowl with either hand (although I don't do very well either way).  In fact, I used to switch hands every frame to annoy people (my brother).  Tennis, I still can't figure out which hand I should use.  I used to get yelled at for switching the racket between hands during lessons, but I really don't feel much of a preference.  Over the years, I have had both left-handed and right-handed mitts and I really don't see that much of a change in skill.  Just the other day I was practicing Jiu Jitsu with my boyfriend and did a left side throw instinctively even though most of the time we only use right.  Even using scissors, which is something I never thought I could do with my left hand, I just tried and hand no difficulty, aside from the fact that the right handed scissors made holding them a little awkward.  

This is the same for most left-handed skills.  I can brush my teeth and eat with both hands without really any trouble.  I consistently switch hands based on what is easier to reach.   And even though I am apparently left-handed I can sew or use pliers for jewelry making with either hand.  

What I am really guessing is that I am ambidextrous.  I just don't have one clear hand preference.  Which, when you think about it, is really cool!  My next step is to re-learn all the skills that I use only one hand for with the other hand.    

The lefty (or righty)

Chris

"Are you Ok?"

Are you ok?


I kind of hate these words.  Not when they are said to me.  I really appreciate when someone reaches out to me, even if I am unwilling to open up to them.  No, I hate these words because of how many times I've wanted to say them, but haven't.  


Now, I really care about the people close to me.  I can't even describe how much I want to be a person that others can turn to.  But as much as I hate to admit it, a lot of the time, I am just not that person.  I don't want to even admit that this part of me that is so selfish exists, but I can't lie, it does.  


Some of it, I can blame on fear.  I don't always trust that I will be able to do anything, or that I am even correct in thinking that they need help.  I feel like I am being invasive, and somehow, even though I know that I should ask, the words just won't come.  I get so caught up in, "it's not my place" or "if they needed me, they would come to me".  But every time I do this, I just end up doing nothing.  And how is that right? How is it right for me to worry about what someone will think of me for showing concern.  It's a selfish thought that I have far too often.  Maybe this seems like an extreme view, but I'm not trying to torture myself, I'm trying to be realistic.  When I spend time worrying about whether something is "my place" or not, I am making the situation about me.  And when someone is hurting, or needs help, that just isn't an attitude that should be excusable.


And then I start to worry about if I will even be able to help.  I feel like I am going to say the wrong thing and hurt them more.  This I can excuse slightly.  At least then I am semi-focused on them.  But see, then I start to think about all the times that I have been upset.  And how often I just needed someone to persuade me to actually say what was wrong out loud.  How often all I needed was the assurance that someone was there, and cared.  So, why am I focused so much on what to say?  Even if I can't actually help, there is no reason that I shouldn't ask what is wrong.  I manage to completely ignore the fact that I am supposed to just be listening.  


And then there is the part that I am most ashamed of.  Sometimes it is just easier to not ask.  Because if I ask, I start to really care about what someone is feeling, and worry about them. And so sometimes, if I don't think I can fix it, I feel myself avoiding the situation because I am trying to avoid the pain from not being able to help someone I care about.  


I know, pretty selfish.  All I can promise is that I do know how wrong this is.  And I can also promise that I do truly want to be a caring person that others can come to.  I feel that I have made some changes.  When I see people upset now, most of the time I am able to to force myself to say, "are you ok?"  And I am so happy for it.  I have been able to be there for some of the people that I truly care about.  But I know there are still times that I am not, and I am truly sorry.  I know my high school friends in particular, I feel like I have let you down multiple times in this respect, because of fear and uncertainty.  I truly do apologize for this.  And I can promise to anyone in the future, I am trying and I am going to try to be there if you need me.  


Chris

Unparalleled Joy

So, before I get going, I would really like you guys to watch this video.  

I found this video yesterday, while I was randomly watching a bunch of videos about how music affects our brains.  What this guy is demonstrating is the power of the pentatonic scale.  Now, the pentatonic scale is one of the first things we learn about music.  It is present in our lullabies, is the basis for a lot of our music education and is generally very present in our culture.  That is why the audience has such an easy time following along with the scale.  Now, while this concept is really cool in and of itself, I really don't know enough to tell you anything else about this.  What I wanted to write about was the singer Bobby McFerrin.  A note on the side of the video on the original page I viewed it on said that listening to his videos can cause a side effect of unparalleled joy.  And, I think that's a pretty good way to sum it up.  Watching him sing, you can see that he loves what he is doing.  And that is something that I love more than anything.  


I have had the chance to see this in several people. I think where I have the tendency to notice it the most is in music.  Being involved in music for a good portion of my life, I have had the chance to work with some really incredible musicians who are not much older than I am.  And what has come clear the most, is that music is nothing if there is no joy.  For example, for most of high school I took private flute lessons which meant at the end of the summer we put on a recital.  The supposed to be stars of the show, were my teachers twin daughters.  And they were excellent musicians.  They had perfect techniques and could play pieces that I couldn't even read there were so many notes.  However, when you listened to them all you heard was a bunch of perfect technique.  They didn't want to be a part of the recital, their mother was forcing them, and you could tell.  There was another student there, who was just a little bit more skilled than I was.  She wasn't an expert, but she was pretty good.  But, I loved listening to her.  She always made sure to pick pieces that she really liked, and you could tell that she really enjoyed playing them.  There was joy there, and in my opinion she was a hundred percent more entertaining than the prodigies.  


Another place that I have seen this is in martial arts.  During my time learning both Karate and Jiu Jitsu I have been gifted with some really amazing Sensei's (black belts).  And what always really struck me was the difference between watching them do techniques and watching others do techniques.  It's something more than skill.  This came through the clearest in Karate.  For each belt level we would work on katas, which are choreographed sequences of techniques.  They can be really beautiful when done well because the movements are very fluid and powerful.  When I would watch Sensei do these techniques, you could tell that these were moves that he had poured his concentration into doing correctly.  You could tell that he was very passionate about it.  It also came through in the way that he talked about martial arts in general.  


There are countless examples that I have seen of people who just really embrace what they are doing, and they are not afraid to show their joy.  Do you think that Bobby McFerrin is afraid of looking silly jumping around a stage and singing? Clearly not.  See, that's the cool thing about passion, it takes away all of those other things.  


This is kind of the reason that anyone who has been in a class with me, may have a slightly different view of me.  Because for some reason, when I am in class, I don't shut up.  I actually love class discussions.  Now, generally this is if I am in a class that I enjoy, especially English classes.  Because words are something that I am really passionate about.  And I don't care how silly it is, I get linguistics books out of the library, and I read everything I can find.  And so, when I have a chance to talk about something that I love, I go for it.  Because when you follow passion, you have a chance to experience this unparalleled joy.  


So, the next step, that I have been trying to take, is to extend this joy into other things.  See, my theory is, that if I can approach everything that I love, with the same passion that I love to see in other people than I will no longer have to worry about fear stopping me from doing something.  And I have been working on this for a while, and it honestly works pretty well.   Generally the only side effect, is me being ridiculously happy over simple things.  Which I've decided that I am not afraid to show anymore.  I will skip down to the dining hall if the nice day has put me in a good mood, and I will jump up excitedly if someone suggests mudslidding, just the same as I will sing along to songs I like even if there are people around and I will continue to talk with all my passion when I'm in class.  Because if the only side effect of this is unparalleled joy, I think it's worth keeping up.  


Thanks for reading,
Chris

The Need to Create

So, I wanted to write and explain why there are those random days where I end up writing about 3 blogs in about an hour.  I get these days, and I get them quite a bit, where I just have this consuming compulsion to create.  I don't even know if I can fully explain the feeling, but suddenly I just don't want to sit still anymore.  I just feel like I need to do something, or make something, or write something.  So, currently, I sit down and somehow I end up with three or four blog posts.  Which I guess isn't necessarily a bad thing, although it might be a tiny bit excessive.  


I guess I've just always had this feeling that part of me being alive means that I need to create things.  Ever since I was little, I was constantly trying to make things.  I would draw, and especially write.  I would write ridiculous stories, mostly about horses (I was totally guilty of a horse-crazy phrase) and show them to my third-grade teacher.  When someone would react to what I had created I loved it.  Being able to see something that existed purely because I found away to channel what I had inside made me feel fulfilled even before I really knew what that meant.  And that hasn't stopped in the slightest.  


I make jewelry, cards, or collages for people, and every once in a while I try to draw (despite not having much talent in that area).  And as always, I write.  I am constantly trying to improve the way I write so that I can create things that will means something to those that read it.  That's why I have really come to enjoy this blog.  I am able to have a place to let loose that crazy urge to create that I get sometimes.  It has really amazed me how people have reacted to this.  When people tell me that they can relate to something that I have written or I am able to make someone think I feel like I am fulfilling my need to create something meaningful.  


So, thanks for reading.  I hope that I am able to create something worthwhile here.
Chris

Assumption

I'm sort of going on another rant here, but only because it's ok, because I fully admit that I am guilty of this to.  See, I had this conversation tonight that really made me think.  Someone who I really care about mentioned that that towards the beginning of this year, he was convinced that I would hate him.  Now this is someone who means a lot to me so it was kind of strange to even think about hating him.  It certainly was never a risk.  However, when I thought about it, I realize how often I do the same thing.


See, all the time, for absolutely no reason, I just assume that people aren't going to like me.  For example, earlier in the year I tagged along with a friend to meet this group of people in one of the dorms.  Now, these people I would now consider good friends of mine.  However, at the time, I managed to convince myself that all of them hated me.  And I have no idea why.  I just know that I was convinced they were going to think that I was invading their group, or they would think I was weird because I didn't have much to say.  I know that it's normal to be nervous meeting people, especially if you are me, but I took it way past where I needed it to be.  I realized that I was so convinced that they wouldn't like me, that I often guarded myself around them.  I would sometimes even resist being friendly, or reaching out to them because I was worried it wasn't my place.  Whatever that even means, I don't even really know, it was just what was going through my mind.  


And the thing is, I still do this.  I still just assume that things that I say or do are taken the wrong way.  I still assume people that I meet must have a bad impression of me.  It has absolutely nothing to do with the other person.  I don't judge this based on how they act towards me, or how friendly they are.  It is all based on what I assume in my head.  And, you know what?  I think it is about time that I try to stop this.  


Because, when I realized that someone who means that much to me went through this but about me I got a completely different perspective.  I don't want anyone to feel that way about me, especially the people that I care about.  And if I say that, then I can't excuse doing it myself.  


I'm not saying that I am going to assume that everyone loves me.  What I am saying is that it is about time that I and all of us give ourselves a chance.  A chance to be around people and be liked.  Or maybe not liked.  Whatever the case, it's about time that this issue got out of our head's and into reality.  When we assume that people don't like us, we act as if they don't and that can really hurt the chance to get to know some really awesome people.  


So, I'm done creating reality in my head based on negative thoughts.  I'm going to try really hard to not assume and just have a great time with the people that I care about.  Because I don't want anyone, including myself to have to feel that way.


Chris

"Wow, you're really quiet, you know?"

Ok, so I'm being a little bit rant-y here.  But the thing is, I feel like this is something that I really need to address in this blog.  If you have heard this rant before, I apologize, you can feel free to not read the rest of this.


What I am talking about is the cruelest thing that you could ever say to someone that is shy.  And everyone says it!  I'm really not sure why, but for some reason, people think that if someone isn't talking very much, the best way to get them talking is to tell them how quiet they are.  There are so many problems with that.

1. If someone who is shy is talking to you at all, it's taking a lot of effort.  It is really hard to talk to someone new, when you are afraid to talk to people, give them credit for not running away from the conversation altogether.
2. If someone is quiet, they probably know.  In fact, they are probably wishing in this scenario that they weren't.  Pointing it out is just cruel.  Would you go up to someone and say, "Wow, you don't shut up"?  No, probably not.  Unless you're rude, in which case, feel free to keep pointing out how quiet people are.  
3. I know you think you are helping.  I know you think by addressing it, you will suddenly get us to talk.  But when you think of it, how in the world do you answer something like that.  There just really isn't a good answer, which means if you are me, you either say nothing or give a one-word noncommittal response, thus becoming even more quiet.
4. Nothing makes me want to stop having a conversation faster than having someone tell me that I'm quiet.  It is basically saying, "Wow, you suck at this, either talk more or just give up"  So yeah, generally, if you say that, I will probably walk away, and avoid you for rest of whatever event we are at.  
5. A lot of the time, I think I am doing really well and I am trying really hard to talk to you.  But, when you point out how quiet I am, that pretty much just makes me want to give up. 
6. A lot of times this sentence is said in a weird jokey voice to cover up the fact that what's being said is just plain rude.  

Now, I realize most people do not mean any harm.  But hearing that just sucks, especially if you are trying really hard to be more social.  And I know, some of the time, we aren't helping with the conversation so you probably don't know what else to say.  Just please don't choose that.  


Luckily I haven't heard this in a while.  However, I still remember countless awkward scenarios where someone said this to me and I felt like a spotlight was shining directly on the part of me that I am trying so hard to fix.  And, I can't tell you how many conversations ended with that phrase.  


I'm done ranting now.  If you've said this to me before, don't worry.  I promise there is no latent resentment that I feel for you.  Just please, for the sake of shy people, stop saying it.  


All the best,
Chris    

Why I love the Flute

So, today I'm going to talk about my experience with band.  Now, I started playing the flute when I was just a little fifth grader at Thoreau Park elementary.  Now, if you are band person, you are probably thinking, "just another one of the 30 something flute players".  However, in my defense, when I was choosing my instrument I was picking between flute, clarinet, and saxophone.  Saxophone seemed a little bit too heavy and too loud, and everyone I knew at the time, played clarinet.  So, I thought I was being unique.  Besides, there was just something that I loved about how the flute looked and sounded.  I signed up for bandmarching and soon I had possession of my own shiny silver flute, (well ok, I was renting it, but whatever).  It ended up being significantly harder than I thought.  If you don't know, the hardest part of a flute is learning to make a sound at all.  Generally, you use the same technique you would use to blow on a plastic bottle and make a sound.  Practice was hard.  I found out that the flute takes more air than any other wind instrument.  Our little class of beginning flutes often had to fight dizziness as we tried valiantly to master "Go Tell Aunt Rhodie" and "Mary had a Little Lamb".  I had no idea how hard reading music could be.  It's sort of like it's own language.  However, I kept at it and was rewarded by playing at my concert, complete with the impressive black metal music stands.  I still remember my Dad telling me that he though that the flute was the prettiest instrument to listen to, and how excited I was that I had chosen such a good instrument.  

I began to love everything about band.  I loved that the flutes got to sit in the first row.  I loved hearing all the instruments come together and create a song.  I loved the loud crash of the beginning drummers who had no concept of volume.  I still remember my last elementary school concert.  Our band teacher decided to play along with us on his trumpet.  This was much to the dismay of my friend Alex and I who were seated right under it and the steady drips of spit that fell alarmingly close to us.  I seem to remember we spent most of that concert steadily moving farther and farther back as we tried to stop laughing so that we could actually play.  Actually, Alex and I spent a lot of time trying desperately to stop laughing so that we could play.  At one concert at the board office, I remember we bumped our stand causing it to fling our music everywhere.  Needless to say, we couldn't look at each other for the rest of the performance.  

In middle school and high school, band was pretty much where I made all of my friends.  There's just something about band kids, we all stick together.  I was a part of both marching band and concert band for all four years of high school.  In that time I learned how to march in a perfectly straight line (hopefully), what it was like to audition in the center of an empty band room with the assistant director just staring at you (terrifying), I learned, luckily not from personal experience, that wearing white socks to a concert had the power to induce soul stealing rage from our assistant director, and mostly I learned how to really enjoy music and get better at it.  

Band was the source of so many of my amazing memories from high school.  From the soliloquy about mud I wrote during a particularly rainy marching season, to the time our band director caught Alex and I twirling down in our long, black (semi-amish) concert skirts.  

However, band did not just give me amazing memories, it taught me love music and the creation of it.  There was one piece in particular that really taught me this.  My friend Natalia transposed the extremely beautiful violin quartet so that it could be played with two flutes and two clarinets.  We played that quartet all throughout high school.  It was the most beautiful piece I have ever played.  It is called Believe by Yuki Kajiura.  The song was written for the anime Tsubasa.  Somehow, this quartet just really exemplifies to me what music should be.  Music should be something that makes you feel something, and whenever I hear or play this song I feel joy and hope.  

Here is a link to the violin version of the song.  I wish there was a video of our instrumentation, but it is still beautiful.  Enjoy.

Chris

  

Future....(insert panicked scream here)

So, yesterday I journeyed to Hiram for the morning to meet with one of the professors to talk about switching to an Integrated Language Arts major, which would mean I would be certified to teach English for grades 7-12.    I am really excited about it, but, since I generally make things pretty complicated for myself for no reason, it was a really hard decision.  And for the record, I know there are several of you who may be reading this that I freaked out to, and I want to thank you guys so much!


So, I came to Hiram fully expecting to double-major in Religious Studies and English.  I was going work in some aspect of a church or nonprofit.  However, along the way I realized that the politics of religion were just not something that I could handle.  And of course, instead of realizing this and calmly looking to find a solution for what I really wanted to do, I completely freaked out.  I was so scared to admit that I had been wrong about what I wanted to do.  I was afraid I was going to betray everyone's expectations of me.  Which, for the record, I use people's expectations to put way too much pressure on myself anyway.  


However, in the midst of the completely freaking out, I was thinking of some other possibilities.  My parents had suggested teaching, since English was not something that I wanted to give up.  I thought a lot about it and it seemed like a pretty good fit.  


See, I am kind of obsessed with English.  I love to write, hence this blog, and I also just really have a love for words.  When the really amazing authors write, they are able to capture humanity on paper.  Somehow, they are able to put those indefinable things that all of us feel but can't put words to, and actually express them.  So, if I were able to talk about this kind of stuff every day, I would be pretty happy.


My main goal, however, is and has always been, I need to find a job where I can help people.  If I cannot wake up every day and know that my life means something, and that other people are able to have a slightly better life because of what I am doing, then I will not feel as though I am truly accomplishing anything.  And, I realized, if I teach I can help people see the value of my passion and hopefully their lives will be a little bit better.  In addition, I will have the opportunity to fulfill one of my lifetime goals, and join the Peace Corps.  One of their biggest branches is education, and so I would have the opportunity to study what I love and then use it to help people.  


After a lot of freaking out to several people, I realized that it wasn't a bad thing to change what I wanted to do.  Luckily, I have a lot of people in my life who told me that they would support me no matter what, and agreed that it sounded like a good fit.


So, this fall, as long as everything goes according to plan, I will declare and Integrated Language Arts Major.  And with any luck, next time I have to change my future plans, I'll do it a little more calmly.


Thanks for reading,
Chris


  

I will never live this down...

Hi guys, this is a bit of a lighter post.  it is a story of the pretty much one and only time I have ever lost my temper in public.  Now my friends will never let me live this particular event down, so I figured I might as well share this with everyone else.  What do I have to lose?


It all started with the Treaty of Versailles.  No, not the actual treaty-but an activity designed by my freshman year history teacher in order to see how we would have negotiated the treaty.  As you know, I was pretty shy, but I was actually really excited for the debate.  You see, as long as it isn't an actual serious confrontation, I am really good at arguing.  So, I was pretty sure that the debate would go really well.  


Now, because the class was full of nerdy overachievers like me, the debate got pretty intense pretty fast.  Towards the middle of the debate,  I was laying out one of my arguments.  Things were going well, I had gotten Italy on my side, I had just delivered some really great points, I was one last comment away from creating lasting world peace (ok maybe not, but I had a really good argument).  So, as I am delivering this fantastic argument, I paused for dramatic effect.  Now, this was clearly a pause.  I had obviously not finished my argument.  Sometimes people need to breathe.  People should respect that.  People should not completely disregard the clearly dramatic nature of of the pause and start in with a completely unrelated point.  And if said person does interrupt a person's argument, there is nothing wrong with saying (perhaps at a volume that could have been construed as yelling) "I wasn't finished yet!"  


So, I still don't think I yelled all that loud.  However, considering I really didn't talk all that much on a normal basis, it was a little shocking to the rest of the class.  In fact, as my teacher decided to phrase it, I grew devil horns and steam came out of my ears.  In my defense, I was not the only one.  One of my friends got heated to the point where his face turned a shade of purple I had never seen on skin before.  However, since I was the quiet one, I am the one who will never live this down.  


And by never live this down, I mean I will seriously never live this down!  People constantly feel the need to bring this up.  To demonstrate this, here is a quote from my senior yearbook, "I still remember the first time you talked in Saban's class...well...you actually yelled...and then grew devil horns....And no, I probably won't forget that.  You'll always be 'girl who grew devil horns during the debate'"  I also feel the need to mention that he was not the only person to bring this up in that yearbook, three years later.  I swear, they're gonna put it on my tombstone.  


So what's the lesson here?  First of all, dramatic pauses are a thing and should always be respected! Secondly, I may be quiet, but if I need to make a point, I'll make sure you listen to what I have to say.  


That's all, 
"Girl who grew devil horns during the debate" or just Chris

Confrontation and a Belt Test

So, I have mentioned before that martial arts are a pretty big part of my life.  Training has affected my life in more ways than I could ever say.  I've actually been wanting to write this for awhile now, but it just hasn't come together the way I want it too.  And then I got distracted with other posts.  But then my boyfriend wrote this really awesome post about his experiences with martial arts, which inspired me to revisit this post and write it the way I wanted it.  By the way if anyone who is reading this, hasn't read his you should! http://sarcasmsincerity.blogspot.com


I started martial arts in the winter of my sophomore year.  Now, if you didn't know me then, at 15 I was shy to the extreme.  I had a group of friends that I was close to, but those were pretty much the only people I would ever say a word to.  Anytime anyone who I didn't know came over to join our group, my voice pretty much disappeared.  As for groups of complete strangers, I was kind of lucky to say a full sentence, even luckier if it was actually audible.  Something just made my brain short out when it came to talking to people.  And as you can probably guess, that meant that I wasn't exactly good with confrontation.  And by not exactly good, I mean I avoided it like the plague.  If someone pushed, I withdrew.  It just was not something that I could handle without absolute panic.  Simple arguments caused me to feel sick and start to shake.  


Clearly this was something I wanted to get over.  I had mentioned before that I had always wanted to learn martial arts, become a combination of Mulan and Buffy ect.  It occurred to me that this could be a great way to overcome my fear of confrontation and accomplish a childhood dream.  So, I enrolled in an Isshynryu Karate class at the YMCA near my house.  Now, even just going to this class was kind of scary. The class held anywhere from 30 to 40 people all at one time, which was a lot of strangers I was going to have to learn to talk to if I wanted to actually learn things.  


I ended up really enjoying class.  I loved learning the techniques and even found a few people that I could have semi-decent conversations with.  However, when it came to actually sparring I had a few more difficulties.  It was really hard to convince myself that it was ok to hit people and to fight back.  In most of my matches, I ended up doing really well at blocking, but when I was told to attack, I just couldn't do it.  It just felt wrong!  However, the more I sparred the more I slowly got over it.  I still wasn't very aggressive when I sparred, but I could hold my own.  In fact by the time I was ready to go to college and leave karate class for a while, I was pretty confident that I had gotten over my fear to a pretty good extent.  I realized how wrong I was on the last day I was in class (talk about ironic).  


So, in this last class, we tried something that I had never tried before.  Each person was given the opportunity to stand in the middle of a circle of black belts holding large pads that we normally used as targets for practicing kicks.   The idea was you would spar a black belt wearing thick padding while people on the outside pushed you back into the center with the pads every time you  stepped back.  It created a really high stress environment and the idea was to see how you would handle being attacked.  Now, I did not want to do this at all, and I didn't have to.  This was a voluntary exercise.  But, I really hate backing out of things because I'm afraid, so I decided to try, despite the dread I could feel growing in my stomach.  And I can't lie, it was pretty much as awful as I thought it was going to be.  What I was not expecting was that I would get off to the side after I completed it and basically have a panic attack.  I was pretty disappointed in myself I'm not going to lie.  Not to mention, it was a pretty bad way to end my time in karate.  


Fast forward to college, I still didn't want to give up on martial arts.  I heard a friend of mine talking about her experiences in a Jiu Jitsu class.  It sounded really cool so I decided to give it a try.  I can't lie though, when she talked about how intense it was, all I could think of was my last karate experience.  I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to handle it, and I would end up freaking out again.  


However, I would consider going to that class one of the best decisions I have ever made.  Again, I can't lie, a lot of what we do kind of terrifies me.  This was my first experience learning how to throw people to mats and being thrown there myself.  And I still have to remind myself sometimes to let go of the panic that builds every time something happens that is a little bit too aggressive for me.  I even got over my fear of panicking, coincidentally by more panicking.  


Fast forward to right before my first belt test.  I am pretty well prepared for my techniques, and I am comfortable sparring because of karate, however, there is one more part to the test that is kind of scaring me.  It is Randori, which is the self-defense portion of the test.  This meant standing in the center of a circle of other students, who would take turns running up and attacking.  I would have to defend myself from each of them without freaking out like I did the last time I was in a  high pressure situation. I was really afraid that I was going to really freak out during my test.  I ended up doing a practice Randori before my actual test.  At least, in theory I did- it didn't last very long.  The first attacker grabbed me in a front bearhug, which I did not remember the defense for.  (Although, to be fair, that was the day I was supposed to be reviewing bearhugs).  Anyway, if you don't know a specific defense you are supposed to make something up, or do something to get away.  However, the pressure of not remembering, everyone staring at me, and the fact that I was completely terrified meant that the only I did was freeze.  Luckily, they took pity on me and stopped the practice.  


I was understandably really scared for my test after that.  I didn't know how I was going to be able to handle that level of confrontation.  Again, however, stubbornness kicked in and I just decided that I wasn't going to let myself panic, it just couldn't happen.  And somehow, I got through it.  After Randori, I was shaking, but I was ok.  I was able to handle the confrontation.  This was the first indication to myself that I was beginning to really move past my fear. 


It's definitely not perfect yet.  I still freak out whenever I have to confront someone, and a lot of what we do in Jiu Jitsu still makes me nervous when I try it for the first time.  But I can definitely say that I am better for joining class and not giving up on martial arts. 


Chris