Day 336 of 365: The End of Legends

(Warning: this is an MMA post.)


Last night capped off Fight Week for the UFC. BJ Penn and Frankie Edgar fought for the third time after coaching "The Ultimate Fighter". BJ Penn, for those playing the home game, is a legend in the sport. He's fought in five weight classes, won belts in two, and built the sport when it was still this misunderstood fighting thing. But, in this fight, BJ Penn got knocked around for three rounds before getting a TKO (the first in his career).


About a month ago, Renan Barao -- who should be a legend, given that he was undefeated in 30 fights/10 years -- lost his belt to a relative rookie. And lost it without any doubt in anyone's mind.


Last year, Anderson Silva (and if I feel like explaining Silva to the internet is like explaining Oscar de la Hoya or Floyd Mayweather) lost twice to Chris Weidman -- and the second fight ended when Silva shattered his shin against Weidman's knee. George St. Pierre (who was "that French villain" in Captain America: The Winter Soldier but, more importantly, the embodiment of technical perfection) stepped down from his title after getting whooped (but was able to score enough points to win the match). And then there's Dan Henderson -- another fighter who is on the level of BJ Penn in terms of multiple championships and weight classes and building the sport -- who got thrown around like a ragdoll by Daniel Cormier.


Jon Jones -- who was hands down my favorite fighter for a good stretch of time -- has lost a lot of credibility after downright refusing to have a rematch with Alexander Gustaffson (a fighter who showed that Jones might actually be mortal). It's to the point that I don't even know who I'm rooting for when the fight does come (and I know I'm not the only one who feels this way).


And then there's Chael Sonnen, who isn't really a legend in the traditional sense, aside from his ability with words/ability to get into the good graces of the UFC, who went from essentially brand ambassador to fired from the UFC and FOX after testing positive for EPO and HGH (aka the Lance Armstrong cocktail) -- his third failed drug test. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not naive: Sonnen has proven to be such a great politician that he could slash your tires and, by the end of the conversation, you'd be apologizing to him for dulling the blade. I see the "firing" getting overturned within a year. But it doesn't change the fact that Sonnen's already questionable image has been seriously marred and all those ambiguous situations suddenly become a lot more black-and-white.


There is a change in the world of MMA right now. The legends of yesteryear (forget that: the legends of last year) are falling by the wayside left and right. You're already seeing these incredible new-generation fighters absolutely destroying the competition (Ronda Rousey defended her title within 16 seconds of the first round. The first round!). It's just weird to see the fighters who blew my mind when I first got into the sport back in my college days (back when my brother-in-law would mute the fight and put on slow jams when the fighters were doing a whole lot of lay-n-pray) now petering out.


I mean, that's just how sports work. Brett Favre went from icon to that old guy who just couldn't keep up with the youngin's (and let's not forget when news broke of his *cough* extracurricular activities. Speaking of people who marred up their image...), but it's still an uneasy feeling when you just watch the absolute great systematically get picked off. It's enough to give you an existential crisis.


And hey, maybe that explains that weird, almost ethereal feeling I've been having in light of everything that has been going on. Maybe everything that's coming to a close is just a catalyst for an existential moment. Well, better that than nihilism.

Day 335 of 365: Transience

I've been feeling pretty weird as of late. I'm about a month away from finishing yoga training -- which, as happy as I will be to not have to be sludging through coursework (and I've definitely hit my limit on that), the idea of being done has been incredibly bittersweet. This project -- which has taken a chunk out of my day-to-day life for the last year -- is now 30 days away from being done. My third manuscript -- which had been in the forefront of my mind for the last two years -- is finished, and I'm not allowed to even look at it until September. And this is on the heels of the release of my collection of essays, which was, for all intents and purposes, my entire life from November until March. Factor in that it's the summertime, when things naturally shift in terms of school years and what happens during the summer, and I'm a hypersensitive fool. It's honestly to the point that show seasons would end and I would be like, "I don't know if I can process this."


You know that feeling you get when a book ends and you're left almost unsure of where to go next because your mind is stuck on the story arc and the fact that it's over? I've been getting that, only sans books.


I was talking to my best friend about this. In some weird way, we went through the exact same type of life experience last year, where everything about our lives changed. On top of moving time zones, she moved into three apartments and ended up changing jobs. Romantic situations came and went and guy she thought she could trust turned out to be selfish and self-serving all along. Right now, she's in an actual career, she has an apartment situation that is actually stable, and, without delving into her personal life, there are healthy influences that could transform into something more. But that feeling in her gut is still there, that feeling like the rollercoaster has just tipped over the edge and you are still a long way from getting your feet back on the ground.


The hardest part about transience when you're no longer a kid is that feeling that you're betraying something by not anchoring yourself down. Here I am, a former teacher, completely stripped of the identity that defined me for four years, who both moved away and found others moving away from what was once the epicenter, who writes with an uncertain path ahead of her, who attempts a new path in life with grounds just as muddy. I don't know what the future will bring, or when it will get completely unearthed again thanks to having children (another reason I'm having this hypersensitive feeling. Being on the cusp of a completely different way of living your life when you've already changed everything about your life is a weird experience).


All I know is that I look back on other times like this -- times when my life would turn upside down and I got a crick in my neck from trying to adjust my viewpoint -- with a profound sense of awe. Those are the memories I hold close. Those are the moments I turn to when figuring out what has defined me. So I don't fear the transience, and I don't dread feeling like I'm still trying to secure the anchors.


I'm not looking for a way out of it. But I will be looking forward to looking back on this time.

Day 334 of 365: Most of Me

I went to bed last night noticing that my right wrist was clicking weirdly. I woke up today with my wrist swollen. Thankfully, we have all the equipment needed when a wrist goes funky (since my husband injured his sometime in 2009). Nothing like a wrist brace and an ice pack to really make you feel functional.


Since the weather is finally beautiful (after half a week of soup weather and another half of hurricane weather), I went out for a walk. Within half a mile, I could already feel the tightness in my strained hamstring tendon and the soreness in my pulled right hamstring (thankfully the locking right knee went away on its own -- although my way of getting around that knee issue probably led to my pulled hamstring). And I only had one thought in my head:


"God, it sucks getting old."


I remember eating pavement as a kid and being perfect fine. I remember twisting my ankle during track practice and having zero issues the next day. For crying out loud, I had my thumb kicked in the opposite direction when I was in the seventh grade (I was playing the part of goalie during a Field Day soccer game, and a very competitive player from the opposing team decided a ball getting lifted up by the goalie was still fair game) and ended up with nothing more than a throbbing hand. Now I get stabbing pains in my neck if I look to the side too quickly.


My husband tried to warn me. When I was 23 and he was 28, he tried to tell me that he was getting old and injured and that it happened as early as your late twenties. And here I am, toeing in on 28, with the exact same issues.


Well, all I can say that is that it's not worth fighting it. Down that path lies some frightening tactics to say "youthful" in all senses of the word. I might not have the body I had when I was 20 (and, sadly, I totally did not utilize the body that I had at 20, which is a bemoaning for another time), but I'm still happy to have most of me around. I might not be going into any hand- or headstands anytime soon (and *just* when I learned out to kick my legs out to the side and up to get into a handstand. Motherfucker) but I still have the ability to do a type of yoga that will fit my physicality. I might be out of marathon training -- and I might be forced to not sign up for the Boston Half Marathon -- but I am still able to go outside on beautiful days like today and stroll around with music in my ears.


So I might not be 100%, but I'm 100% thankful to still have what still remains.

Day 333 of 365: Value Difference

So, in light of America's Independence Day, I decided to get to thinking about the differences in mindset when it comes to allocating instruction and guidance.


A little over a week ago, I was in Washington DC, enjoying a world festival at the National Mall. We made sure to make it to the tai chi lesson (because what better place to have your first "tai chi in the park" experience than on the National Mall?), which included a lesson in tai chi ball. The two instructors showed people how to do a few simple flips and left us to our charges. Within about a minute, after noticing that I had already figured out one of the flips, one of the instructors spent the rest of the time instructing me on what else I can do. While other people were still dropping their balls (*snicker*) left and right, I had the instructor's full attention, to the point that the second instructor jumped in to help the first instructor translate what he wanted to say to English better.


So I know that sounds like a nasty case of humble bragging, but I do it to make a point about values: as an American tai chi instructor, I devote the majority of my time to the poorest-performing student. And that falls right in line with the American idea of who should get the most attention: help the lowest rungs because they need to catch up with the rest of us.


From what I've learned about the Chinese way of doing things (at least when it comes to martial arts), the attitude is the opposite: devote your time to those who can get it down pat quickly because they show the most promise.


I'm sure there's something here about the irony of a communal society favoring the individual best versus an individual society favoring helping those in the back, but it's stupidly early in the morning and I've already used up all my articulating abilities. So I'll end it by wishing everyone a happy and safe Fourth (especially us on the East Coast -- what is up, Hurricane Arthur).

Day 332 of 365: Wrong Side of History

I really make no bones about the fact that I'm progressive in a way that makes other people uncomfortable. I'm progressive in a way that makes both sides hate me (pro-Second Amendment and pro-legal abortions -- albeit with the understanding that it's always more complicated than legalizing it and going on your merry way). So it should come as no surprise that the Hobby Lobby ruling irks me in about a million different ways.


The biggest problem is treating pro-profit corporations as religious institutions purely because the owners are Christian. We already have this "corporations are people" ideology, which makes it really easy for corporations to do whatever they think they can get away with. For crying out loud, people don't want to raise minimum wage because they don't want corporations to throw a hissy fit and fire employees to make up for "lost profits" (which makes as much sense as saying that you have to buy the candy for that toddler, or else he'll throw a tantrum and be really, really annoying).


But "religious freedom" for an individual is a completely different matter than "religious freedom" for a corporation. Right now, it is against the law to discriminate based on sexual orientation. Well, in most states, it is. However, we are starting to see legislation like in Mississippi, where for-profit organizations can turn away homosexuals because it's "against their moral beliefs" to do any type of business with them. They'll ignore the part where we already had this conversation in the 60s -- where we learned that it doesn't matter what your personal feelings are; you don't get to decide who sides at the diner counter -- and claim it's persecution to not be able to deny someone a job purely because the boss found out the applicant is gay.


So that's Irk #1: the can of worms this "religious freedom" decision has made. Aside from the fact that 90% of all corporations can fall into this "closely held to a religion" category, it is setting a very scary precedent. It's not that far of a hop from "religious freedom" laws to laws that are created purely because of a religion (which in some ways we already have but that's for another time).


Irk #2 is the stigma on birth control. This toes in on my pro-legal abortions stance (fun fact: places where abortions are illegal actually see an uptick in abortions, the same way places where there is a gun ban see an uptick in gun crimes), but it makes no bloody sense to say, "BC and Plan B are for whores and drunken mistakes." Aside from the fact that Plan B is not the abortion pill (and actually has a direct impact on a decrease in abortions), it is foolhardy to act like treating contraceptives as taboo won't have result in more unwanted pregnancies.


And then there's the part where most women stay on BC because of medical issues. Just from personal experience, I don't know any single woman who stayed on BC so they could have mad sex and not get pregnant. It's exhausting and onerous to take a pill every single day at the exact same time. But that's a rant for another time.


But, seriously: decisions like this make it that much harder to dig up our Puritan roots and understand that life is a little more complex than, "I shall live a chaste life and have sex only when I want to have children."


My biggest issue is that it throws us back a bit when it comes to progress. And, to paraphrase a Supreme Court Justice, history always eventually sides with progress. The same way you wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of history when it came to things like slavery, women's voting rights, racial equality in the modern world, and gender equality in the workplace (I'm noticing a pattern here...), you don't want to be on the wrong side of history for things like this as well. The only period where mankind went against progress for any length of time is now referred to as the Dark Ages. Just to give you an idea of how history works.


I say this about gay marriage, and I'll say it about "religious freedom" laws (that don't seem to get that freedom of religion also means freedom from religion): you do not want to be on the wrong side of history. You don't want to be part of the group that historians look at 100 years from now and go, "Wow, what barbaric ways of thinking."

Day 331 of 365: On The Cusp

Imagine this scenario: you're in the car and you just changed the station on the radio. The song sounds completely unfamiliar -- in fact, it's noise at first -- and, just before you finally recognize the song and start detecting melody, you have a moment where you know you should know the song, but you can't stop hearing the song as if it's incoherent noise.


That's me and Spanish right now.


I talk a lot about learning Spanish. I've had a love of the language for quite some time (fun fact: once upon a time, when my husband and I first started dating, he started talking to his grandma on the phone in Spanish, and I immediately was like, "Well, how you doin'? Someone's stock just went up in my eyes.") and leaving the time-consuming and spirit-draining world of teaching gave me the time and energy to finally dive in and maybe -- just maybe -- get to the same level as my husband (who I guess was once fluent but, over time, the fluency has dwindled down to a fundamental understanding).


I'm obsessed with language to begin with. If I ever go back to school (for a non-career-related-field like physical therapy or kinesiology, but that's a talk for another time), I would love to dive deeper into the world of semantics and linguistics, because it is just that cool. I'm obsessed with Sapir-Whorf and I'm fascinated with the idea of how a different language -- how a different sentence structure -- affects thought. For example, the passive voice is a lot more common and acceptable in Spanish than it is in English; Spanish also uses a lot more reflexive verbs and pronouns. How would small changes in a language that -- for all intents and purposes -- has an identical grammatical structure to English affect all the little ways one thinks?


In a perfect world, I would master Spanish and go on to one of the big guns, like Mandarin (because part of me still lives in a Firefly world where everyone speaks a weird English-Mandarin hybrid), just to see how different things can be. Of course, in this perfect world, I'm running the Chicago Marathon this year and not nursing a strained tendon and locking right knee (that might put me out of the running for the Boston Half Marathon as well ... no pun intended), so take that as you will.


Getting back into Spanish lessons after a week off was tough. It doesn't matter that my husband and I attempted (key word: attempted) to talk to each other in Spanish during our roadtrip (although I can say, "Qué digas?" like a motherfucker), it felt like turning rusty gears just to get a simple lesson in (and don't even get me started on reading a CNN article in Spanish). But I genuinely want this language under my belt. Aside from the superfluous reasons (which also includes a "teach yoga abroad" program in many Spanish-speaking countries and territories), I would love for my hypothetical kids to experience Spanish outside of their grandmother (and hopefully great-grandparents) talking to them. Like any white suburban first worlder, I would love for my kids to grow up immersed in multi-lingualism.


So, the same way you have to keep listening to the song in order to recognize it, I have to keep plugging away. Because there is no SoundHound for learning Spanish.

Day 330 of 365: Home Again, Home Again

We finally got home yesterday at around 5:30 -- not bad for having to deal with 495 and 93 north of Boston at the height of rush hour. Since then, I've been doing one thing and one thing only: placating the cats who were letting us know just how neurotically they missed us.


It's now 8 in the morning and I sat down to the dining room table, where I keep my laptop. Within minutes, I had two cats quasi-napping next to me. I now have Salem sitting next to my laptop like a gargoyle, systematically pawing at my shoulder so I'll get closer to him (so he can headbutt me). Milo brought his Teddy into the dining room (and I think I've gone on a time or two about his relationship with Teddy). At 5 this morning, Milo decided it was really important that he got pet, nuzzling his wet nose into my skin until I lifted a hand and scratched behind his ear. Last night, when I left to get groceries (because we had a bag of peanuts and not much else), Milo stood in between me and the door and meow-yell at me.


They're lucky that the things I have on my agenda are home-related. From unpacking, to editing my second manuscript (my husband has been incredible about reading M#2 in its early stages and telling me what works and doesn't work. Everyone needs a husband like this.), to getting caught up on my Spanish lessons (my husband and I attempted a little Spanish talking during our road trip. For me, I feel like I'm listening to a song that I might know, but my brain hasn't registered it yet, so all I hear is noise. That's the only way to describe how I feel about understanding Spanish right now.), to working on my "yoga homework", to getting ready to teach tai chi tonight.


Of course, none of this is getting accomplished because I've been knee-deep on the Chael Sonnen drama (for those playing the home game: well-known MMA fighter got busted for the same shit Lance Armstrong got busted for after failing a previous drug test and now he's been fired from both Fox and the UFC). Because that's the joy of being self-employed: no boss to yell at you for not doing your job, ergo you don't have to hide when you're hanging out on gossip sites instead of doing what you're supposed to be doing.


But hey, I am doing one thing I have to do: this blog entry. I'm only 35 days away from completing this bad boy and like hell if I'll let any type of drama stop me from finishing it.