S.S. Doomtrooper

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA! Oh my dear god was that HORRIBLE! God I love SciFi movies sometimes.

so.... happy...

My life has been something of a downer lately. I'm sure those of you who've paid any attention to my blog know why. However, at Kung Fu tonight, a dream I've been waiting to come true for years finally did... I got a straight sword! In case you don't know what they look like, here's a nice looking one. Mine was cheaper, but the evil giggling has been going on and off for a while now. Granted, the gay ass tassle on the back of the thing has already irritated me by wacking me in the face like ten times. I've done my best to shorten up the bloody tassle, but so far, no such luck. Still giggling. The Chinese straight sword, or Jian, is one of the only melee weapons I think stands a bloody chance against a Katana, which is part of why I want to learn it.

Another nice plus to my day is that an email I sent with some serious reservations turned out to have just the effect I was hoping for: I made someone happy. In so doing I felt much better about myself as I hadn't been doing a great job of making people happy lately.

Now, I'm going to finish watching "S.S. Doomtrooper", possibly one of the silliest movies I've ever seen on SciFi (and that's saying something). It may be retarded, but I'm enjoying it thoroughly. Something about a big blue german genetic monster is just compelling... and very, very funny.

testing clarification

My post on testing has generated some interest, so I thought I'd clear things up a bit. If the idea that I am trying to disrespect my instructors and/or their school came across, let me assure you that I am very happy with both instructors and the school. That would explain my happy injury reports from time to time, e.g. "Holy Christ do my legs hurt". Why I dislike testing has nothing to do with liking or disliking the school.

In Karate, and bear in mind that I started at 11, I was all about the next belt for a long time. To me getting that next belt, even if I hated the test, was more important than what I was learning, and that everyone should see my new belt and be proud of me. In a lot of Karate schools, getting that next belt is what is emphasized. As I progressed in Karate, the belt became less a source of just pride and more a way for other students to gague how skilled I was or what questions they could ask of me (I was a part time instructor and taught 10 or so hours a week, and I'd answer any question I could, teaching or not).

When I went on hiatus from Karate due to college and ended up in a Kung-Fu school in Newark, my perspective was still the teaching one. Going to this new school I was less worried about having a new sash (Kung-Fu does sashes where Karate does belts. Same diff really.) so much as going to class and learning. I still tested and looked forward to a new sash, but I realized that I really didn't like testing, I liked learning more. While in college I also studied another style of karate for a short time, studied Taiji for nearly a year, took full contact fighting training for I think another year, and trained incessantly on my own with some enthusiastic buds.

Eventually I returned to my Karate school for long enough to get my 2nd Dan, bringing with my everything I'd learned from all those other perspectives, and I really wowed some people. Though I utterly sucked at point sparring thanks to getting used to actually hitting people, my kata and my general knowledge were improved enough that I got to have a great time with the other instructors applying my new ideas to the current teachings. Really it was my 2nd Dan test that started my latest hatred of testing.

When I tested, as with all tests I actually take, I took it very seriously and threw everything I had into it. I did kata for nearly an hour straight, then interpreted the kata for like 30 minutes, then did techniques of different types and styles for and hour after that. Somewhere in there I got to pick up and physically hurl one of my fellow instructors into one of the other instructors, something that I still think about and giggle.

At the end of the day I was exhausted and irritable and had a sheet of paper that told me I was a 2nd Dan. Nearly every instructor who was testing me told me they knew I would pass. When I looked at that paper and thought about the test, I realized that the test was, in the eyes of my instructors, a formality. I wasn't actually being tested to see if I could hack it, I was actually going through the motions for little more than tradition's sake. Why bother then? If it's a foregone conclusion that I'm gonna pass, then why did I just throw all my energy, strength, and intensity into a test that didn't even matter in the eyes of those testing me?

The mental aspect of the test, seeing how I performed under pressure, was part of it. But the mental aspect of testing hasn't been a problem for me since I was 12; the biggest part of passing a test for me was just showing up. So at this advanced level when I've proved myself repeatedly in and outside of class, why was I being put through motions? That seemed strange to me then and seems strange to me now.

I'm certainly being arrogant here, but testing for a new sash holds little meaning for me. What holds meaning for me is what I learn, not my ability to perform it. In learning my latest forms (Mantis and Chinese Broadsword), I threw myself into studying, practicing, interpreting these forms. I learned so much, practiced so much, that I can't say enough how much I loved getting from "I'm not sure about this" to "I love this form". The process of learning is of intense value to me, discussing with my Sifu's various aspects of the forms, what to emphasize, what not to emphasize, where to sink and where to float... That's what I love about learning at the school: getting to the point that I'm not just learning a form, I'm getting so into the form that instructor/student relationship starts to blur into two enthusiastic people sharing knowledge and just enjoying looking at the possiblities before them.

I guess the most concise way to say this is, I don't like testing because I love learning. The belt or the sash that I wear is unimportant to me when compared to my passion for learning something that I enjoy so much. My emphasis, my perspective, is that I want to learn. Testing seems irrelevant to my learning process because I'm not at school to impress anyone but myself, and since what belt/sash I wear matters far less to me than if *I* feel like I'm doing a good job, it sorta kills the idea of testing for me.

Now, the easiest way to get me to shut up about my hatred of testing is as follows: "Steve" you say,"You aren't being tested on *if* you learned the material, you're being tested on how well you've learned the material and your test shows your instructors both what you've learned and what you still need to work on so that in future classes they can continue to guide you, but with a better gague of where YOU need to go." I'd like to say the instructors should know that from class, but they can't always pay enough attention with a busy class, so I don't really have a useful argument to use here.

In the end, I know I should test, want to or not. Testing is just another step on my path as a martial artist. It's not a step I like, and, right now I'm not sure it's a step I can take, but I can only avoid it or ignore it for so long.

Why am I becoming a boy as I'm growing older?

I've heard the theory that when males age they simply become boys with better toys, and once upon a time I scoffed. Yet here I am, 27, unarguably a man now (scary), and I spend a majority of my fun money on video games, books, comics, and computers. I have much better toys than I ever did before. Am I a man or a boy?

Obviously "boys with better toys" is intended to be a fairly derogatory term, commenting on how these so called men never seem to mature and spend money on ridiculous things. But I'm not a boy in that regard. I have a house, I pay all my bills on time, I actually make money (though not very much at this current time); I'm not needlessly and wantonly spending money on toys, they are my well deserved rewards. So I am a boy, if by boy you mean male with toys. And considering that I do enjoy my toys, I am then a very happy boy.

There is a theory in an eastern philosophy, Daoism I'm fairly certain, that as we grow old we lose the nature of a child, and that in some ways that is a bad thing. Children are in many (ok, most, sheesh) ways obnoxious, self absorbed little tyrants; however, children maintain an ability to find wonder and simple joys in life that most adults lose long before they've even made it to being a grownup.

To steal an excelent example from Professor Fox, think of the child who gets a great fancy toy christmas morning and spends the rest of the day playing with the box the toy came in. When was the last time you looked at something as simple as the box something you bought came in and enjoyed it more than your new toy? To a Daoist, maintaining or regaining the ability to enjoy the simplest things is very important. Not that I'm a Daoist, but I'm perfectly happy stealing good ideas from whatever religions I want. As such, I try to look at the world, and what I loved as a kid, with the same wonder I once had.

Though I'm not exactly enjoying the packgaging as much as I used to, when I say I'm a boy with great toys, I mean that I am a boy with toys who (I think) enjoys them far more than your average boy. I may not be perfect (no one is), but I'll be damned if I'm not going to keep trying. Maybe someday, I'll buy the latest game console, and then spend six hours figuring out how to turn the box into a way to hold all my games in it. That sounds about right.

Fuck testing

I'm mildly irked this week due to my Kung Fu test. More accurately the Kung Fu test that I just couldn't bring myself to go endure. I hate tests. Part of why I hated all my school career is tests. Tests don't actually accomplish anything. All they do is set up a high stress scenario to see how people perform what they may or may not have learned in a class. Thus far as a working professional I have yet to see a single test. Why? Because no one gives a shit. Why would you waste time testing someone when they're busy working? And if they're not doing their job, you fire them. Where is a test useful in there? Tests are a waste of time and energy that could be spent on more learning or working depending on where you are in life.

I especially hate martial arts tests. Why? Because I've had almost 20 tests in my martial arts career and I've passed every single one. Some I performed better than others, but in the past say 8 years, I've passed every single test with flying colors. And I hated every one. They're boring, long, and frankly insulting. Every day I went to class I worked hard and proved I knew what I was doing and was capable of learning just fine. As far as I'm concerned if the instructors don't know already who's going to pass their tests, then they're failing as instructors. Maybe my ego is out of control here, but ever since I got to 2nd Dan (that's second degree black belt), I've had a real problem with taking the piddling little tests for low level sashes. Sorry, different art or not, getting to 2nd Dan is beyond proof that I am capable of any stupid little test in any other school.

Now, you could easily and correctly point out that I'm being stubborn and more than slightly pig-headed here by not just sucking it up and going and taking the stupid test and just getting it over with. But I think part of this is that I've finally and totally lost patience with being treated like a lesser martial artist by the other students at this school because of taking Karate and not wanting to take Vijitsu. That just grinds on my nerves. What do these kids know about my style? Do they know what Shuri-Tei means? I doubt they even know there's a significant difference between Japanese Karate and Okinawin Karate.

All this all means is that I'm going to have a fun little discusion with my instructors when I next appear in class. They're going to question why I didn't test and I'm gonna explain bluntly that I have no interest in testing whatsoever for the afforementioned reasons. On the one hand, my not testing is annoying to them, but I really think that they get why I don't care. I've been in the martial arts since I was 11; I work really hard, I demonstrate my skill every day, and they see both my phsyical dedication as well as my mental dedication. Both of them would probably feel the same frustrations if they were starting over as a white sash at a new school.

I don't know if any of this will actually get me out of testing, but it's worth a shot. Either way, I didn't have to test this week, and that's fine by me. We'll see what happens next week.

Boston report + good news

Boston is, once again, mine. Though I did not manage to make it to Quality India (both a real restaurant and fucking fantastic food), everything else is mine once more. That lovely feeling of being in Boston, hanging out with my two favorite Bostonians ever, and getting over the fact that they're actually getting hitched, all of these are great things. And, of course, I ate teh good foodxor. I love Vietnam and the food that hails from there. Generally I just feel much better. I blame my newly betrothed and soon to be wed friends for my better feeling, even considering that they both were recovering from a horrible malady known as viral meningitis. That's worse than it sounds, mostly because if it was bacterial meningitis (the one you're probably remembering right now) they would either be in the hospital or dead by now. Regardless (if you speak the word irregardless in my presence, your soul will be mine), I had a swell time with my buds and I'm in a happy mood. The drinking plus mussels plus drugs of this evening have a little to do with that, but whatever... I love Boston.

Good news: she's gone. Moved out. Proved earlier suspicions, thoroughly denied, to be nothing more than true. I feel better. Everything else is wasted typing. Like that. And that. And that. And that ad nauseum. :)

I have a lot of work to do

I just spent nearly three hours talking to my favorite bookstore owner in the world about my now edited book, and I have a lot to do. I knew this was coming; my first book, frankly, is pretty damn disorganized since I started writing it in a pretentious style that I eventually gave up on and went to a more readable style. Now, since there's no real timeline at all, there's a bunch I gots to fix, starting with figuring out how in the hell to make this book make sense on a timeline. That'll be fun. There's stuff to add, stuff to remove, stuff to rework, and stuff to just stare at in irritation trying to figure out how to write a damn sentence so that it makes some freaking sense. That last one's probably the hardest part since I couldn't write the sentences to make sense in the first place.

On the one hand, this is going to be hard work and at times really annoying. On the other hand, I have, on and off, done little happy dances here and there, even in public, because I'm so stoked that my editor actually liked my book. Plus the idea that I might actually be published, after years of writing stuff, is really freaking cool. So I'm quite happy about this.

Writing: one of the only times I'm happy I have OCD, as being obsessive is very helpful when keeping plot details straight. ;)

A change of perspective

For some time now, one thought has remained fairly constant in my mind, never far from the conscious parts of my brain. That thought: "I want my girlfriend back." That started before I was actually dumped, and has remained for some time now. It's not so much a statement of wanting to be dating again so much as wanting things to be the way they were before so many things went wrong. It's a stupid wish that some things had never happened, and that other things were never the issues they became in reality. In short, it's a yearning for things past, a "golden age" if you will, of my dating experience that really didn't exist. I wish I could have it back.

But that kind of thinking is plainly stupid. I cannot change the past; the present will never be the past again; no matter how much I want something, reality moves on. So it's time to stop wanting what I want and start wanting what I actually need. I don't need to want my life to return to the way it was before the Time of Troubles (points if you get that reference); I need to accept life as it is. So I don't want my girlfriend back anymore. I want to stop missing her.

The only way I'll get any better is by accepting that it's over, she'll never come back, and I'll never go back. I have to accept that I am unwilling to experience that pain again or to take any more chances on someone I can no longer trust. I have to accept that her disorder and my disorder could never have worked together, no matter what either of us might have wanted. I have to accept that it's over, now and forever.

I know what I need. I want to stop missing her. I just don't know how.

Physical pain in preferable to mental pain

That's right, another night of Kung Fu, another night of pain. Oddly, another night where my Sifu commented that he was pleased with my performance of my form. Clearly I'm doing something right. My mind is very unpleasant right now. Not because of the praise, just the usual. Hopefully this little relapse of bitter irritation is temporary. My guess is going to Boston will really help me feel better. My two now nearly married friends have never failed to help me feel better, via food, beer, and just generally being two of my favorite people alive. Just getting the hell out of dodge for a weekend should be nice.

That is, it should be nice if I can actually get onto an airplane on Friday in some reasonable amount of time. Theoretically the waits at PHL aren't bad, but I am skeptical. On the other hand, I don't want to wait in line for two hours and then miss my flight. That would piss me off intensely. So likely I'll be at the damn airport way before I have to be. Hopefully the nice people at the airport will tell me I don't have to be that psychotic about it, but who knows?

Oh yeah, and I can't tape Future Weapons or Eureka because I like House. Goddammit. Come on physical pain! Make me forget I can't watch shows I like because of goddamn networks starting shows late and early!

Book watch:

As you may or may not know, I have three essentially finished novels written. I've been waiting on an editor to get the time back to be able to edit my book and that's finally happened. I'm geeking out here, but he both likes my book and is already deciding which publishers he's going to personally recommend my book to. How fucking sweet is that? I knew being patient would ultimately pay off. And now my favorite bookstore owner in the world is going to get to drink his burbon! That's a treat right there too. So anyway, me = geek. But whenever it is I have new news on the potential publishing status of my book, I'm sure to post it here. Glee!

Pain update.

Well, I'm not in as much pain as I was expecting. Yes, there is pain (and throbbing, let's not forget the throbbing), but at least I can walk up stairs and type without too much difficulty. The problem now is bruises: there aren't enough of them. What I mean is that instead of bruises I have lovely burst capillaries on my arms and legs and not so much bruising. This likely means that the bruises aren't going to show up until later and then they'll be huge lumpy things. That'll be swell. Oh well, no pain, no gain. The bruises will either keep the ladies away, and therefore keep up the status quo, or they might wander over and ask my just what in the hell is wrong with me. That'll be a fun explanation. :)

Holy Christ do my legs hurt.

They hurt so bad I forgot my arms hurt. If I poke my arms, I remember reeeeal quick that they hurt too. But my legs are definitely the winners for the pain tonight. Why? Kung Fu. Yes, one of my favorite activities has left me broken and in pain. Well, not broken, but dammit, I hurt!

Sometimes, I have to wonder, why do I do this to myself? Seriously, what exactly do I find fun about getting injured to some degree? Well...

• Exercise. I don't even like to think about how many calories I lose when I have even a calm night at Kung Fu.
  
• Entertainment. Aside from me just plain enjoying these crazy exercises, both of my instructors can be very amusing, such as referring to one of my fellow students as Aluicius. Plus they occasionally hit people who aren't me which can be very funny.
  
• I am a shallow bastard. That's right, I got abs. Even when doing 200+ situps a day back in my Karate days, I never had abs. Now I do. Sweet.
  
• Let's face it. I'm an idiot. :) Can't forget that.
  

So yeah. Kung Fu rules. My pain? Not so much. Especially because I can't do anything to even slightly disrupt the pain. Why not? Any form of pain killer interferes with muscle growth/repair. Same for alcohol. There goes my fun. So I get to suffer. And you get to laugh you fuckers. Certain coworkers of mine will probably laugh very hard at me when I try to ascend stairs and type tomorrow. Certain coworkers will get punched for their effort. Whenever it is I've healed enough to actually catch the fucker anyway.

F.E.A.R.

I know I'm like a year, maybe two late, in reviewing this game, but I have to report that it's freaking awesome. My biggest annoyance is that movement is a bit slow, but that's because it's completely based on actual human movement, so you do actually run with a believable pace. Other then that, the guns, the powers, the story, the voice acting... everything is awesome. I personally like how, once in a while, when you shoot someone just right with the shotgun, you blow their body entirely in half. I also like that the proximity grenades leave just enough time for the soldiers who stumble upon said grenades to yell "Fuck!" or "Oh shit!" before evaporating into a pile of goo. I also like that remote bombs stick to people. That's just funny.

So, in review, if you like ultra creepy fps games that give you wicked weapons, cool "uber reflex" powers, multiple melee attack options, and actually have your enemies be smart and yell obscenities, then you'll like F.E.A.R. Or at least, I will.

One suggestion: don't play the game in the dark. It gets really creepy if you do that shit.

Book watch:

Outline: 34 pages.

So far in book: 38 pages.

I have, of course, deviated greatly from my outline while writing, but I'm more or less staying on track and writing a bunch. My job lately has been actually workful, but in that way that I get to sit around reading, writing, or whatever while computers run scripts for me. Real work may be around the corner, but for the moment I'm just happy to be writing again and going quickly with my new book. I imagine this won't take more than a year to write, depending on plenty of factors, but if it were to keep up at this rate, I might be able to get it done in under six months. That would scare even me. Because then I'm sure I'll have worked in plot points that totally contradict one another.

Other book watch: I'm printing out my first book, my personal new edit, and taking that to el bookstore owner to edit. He should get into that one quickly, and since it's a better written edition it should go faster for everyone involved. Soon as he's done, I'm going to start submitting and therefore failing to get published. I'll let you know how that goes whenever that happens. I'm going to try submitting to Tor Publishing first, and then I'll go from there.

It finally happened...

That's right, my sister and her fiance bought a house in my neighborhood. They're now one block over from me. This means I have a dog to borrow with which to pick up chicks, people I can strong arm into mowing my lawn and other such yardwork, and I have a new drinking buddy! Granted, my sister isn't moving in just yet, just the fiance, but that works out good for me since we get along fine.

The Gaelic Wookie and I had been jonesing for some all you can eat crab for a couplea weeks now, and last night, in honor of the new neighbors, we got our excuse to go stuff ourselves with lovely crab goodness. I managed to annoy my new neighbors by buying them dinner, but hey! What are older brothers good for if not finding ways to make buying you dinner an irritating experience?

As I explained to my soon to be brother in law, I believe in the golden rule in combination with what goes around comes around. So be nice and you'll get nice in return. Most people are quite keen on being nice to people who are nice to them. Recent experience has proven that not everyone views repaying nice with nice as a good idea, but aside from some people I'd rather not think about, being nice works out well for me, so I'm not going to stop it. Besides, if I'm lucky, the next time nice comes around to me, it will involved all you can eat crabs... mmmmmm....