…Well almost too bloody weird for words, if it was “too bloody weird for words” this would be a blissfully short blog post.

I’m not entirely sure if I am just a magnet for weirdos and/or weird conversations, or if it’s that I am just more keenly aware of the ridiculousness around me – which probably says more about me than the situations I witness/get involved in.

The problem comes when trying to verbalise this.  How do you, for example, write about some fellow user of the work’s urinal approaching the toilet and not-so-much peeing into it but having what can only be described as an uncontrolled yellow explosion, without coming over a little…. weird?

He was apologetic, I had wet shoes and a somewhat alarmed look.

..Or coming across a rather attractive young lady, also at work, struggling to pull open a door that was clearly marked “Push”.

I like to think I’m a polite person, but I struggle to know which is the correct expression to put on one’s face when, after informing her that she needs to push the door, she comes back with “Excuse me, but I had to pull it when I came in from the other side earlier!”

Answers on a postcard please.

…Or what shade of red is the most appropriate to blush to when, after providing some help to a more mature lady just starting on her karate journey on where to place her hands when dropping into kokutsu dachi (answer as I explained to her; just below your sternum or “on the bra line” as it had been explained to me by a fellow female karate-ka), she comes back with “What if you have droopy tits?”

Not entirely sure to be honest, or what the best tack is to take when asking that of Sensei.

I think the icing on the cake though was the out of the blue message I received from a young lady of my acquaintance, during my usual insomniac late nighters, which read “Did u know Dolphins rape ppl :O“, then closely followed by “Google it!”

Now I’m a self professed idiot, but even *I’M* not idiotic enough to go googling that particular phrase.  Also, I prefer my pornographic material to be somewhat more mainstream than that don’t feel that sort of thing is appropriate.

The fact that the person in question went as far as establishing that the aforementioned dolphin’s prefer their victims to be male and had taken the time to find videos of this was also a little bemusing.

…and the only thing that I can think of after all of this?  I don’t have enough bewildered expressions in my repertoire to continue noticing this stuff.

Toodles!

What am I wittering on about?  Well, I bought one of those compression tops n’ bottoms that athletes wear and GKR have  just recently introduced into their line of GKR wear, and with them the promise that wearing them would reduce aches n’ pains.  What’s more they’ll help me reduce weight!  RESULT!

Wear a rather fetching, albeit eye-poppingly tight, bit of spandex and suddenly my weight will begin to drop?!  In which direction do I throw my money?

Not entirely sure all my aches n’ pains are taken care of, but that may be more due to my Sensei and fellow Karate-Ka unduly using their fists and feet on my bodily parts.  Maybe I was hoping compression wear was more armour than something that hugs one’s unmentionables somewhat more intimately than is entirely appropriate.

However!  The weight loss promise is ENTIRELY justified!  These things will absolutely, one hundred percent, fully guaranteed help you lose weight!

When you put these compression wear thing-a-ma-bobs on, you feel absolutely heroic.  You feel toned, you feel buff as the top clings to your contours and shows off your years or martial arts dedicated and honed body.

You also can’t help but look a little further down your body and think
.oO( whoah! Oh YEAH! ).

Not gonna explain that much further, just use your imagination…. or better still, DONT!

Unfortunately you then catch a reflection of yourself in a mirror and the full horror of what you ACTUALLY look like hits you.  The resultant unbidden thought of “I really, REALLY need to go on a diet” finally makes its appearance.

The heroic self-delusion has been replaced with something far more undesirable.

Honestly, where did all those flabby bits of flesh appear from?  More alarmingly, where did half the bottom of the compression wear disappear to?

*sigh* diet it is then, and I must finally get my carcass up early enough in the morning to actually use the rowing machine I purchased a week or so back.

The only highlight, and thing that still makes me chuckle, is the look of pure horror on one of my fellow karate-ka’s face when a to-remain-unnamed member of our club let slip that he thought it was probably better to wear underwear under the compression wear bottoms.  The picture of her widening eyes and head dropping into her hands will remain with me forever

I’m not liking my karate at the moment.

The style and what’s being taught is not the issue, just my unique interpretation of what’s been patiently passed onto me.

My kicks aren’t good enough, flexibility is an issue, stances need a lot of work and after reviewing the awesome books and videos by Iain Abernethy, it’s obvious that I need to go back to square 1 and actually LEARN my kata.  As Sensei Bob McCracken said in a recent seminar; “You shouldn’t move onto the next kata until you’ve learnt the pattern, correct stances and UNDERSTOOD the bunkai and application of that kata”.

Visiting other dojo’s in the region and seeing how karate should be practised, and taught, has only reinforced this personal reflection.

Now this isn’t a “I should quit” posting, I’ve been practising the art WAY too long and have been bitten WAY too hard by the bug to give in.  That, and giving up is no bloody answer at all.  Just wondering if the skills I possess are sufficient enough to aid others on their journey.

Methinks I need to find someone who won’t blow sunshine and rainbows up my arse, faint praise isn’t what I’m looking for, and either kick the aforementioned orifice or confirm my conclusion.  The problem is… I don’t know who that is.

It’s pretty much the same promises that were made in previous years, and will probably end up in the exact same place the last set of resolutions ended up.  But I am a stickler for tradition and, if truth be told, an optimistic dreamer – one day, oh yes, one day the vision WILL be realised!

Rather than the somewhat vague promises of yesteryear, that can be summarised down-to 1) Get fit/slim, and 2) Get better at Karate, I have decided to be somewhat specific!  So ladies and gentlepersons I present to you my New Years Resolutions for 2013;

• Get my weight down to 85kg (13 and a bit stone).  After the Christmas excess of booze, turkey, sweeties and biscuits my weight has ballooned up-to 94kg (nearly 15 stone) which is WAAAY to porky for yours truly!

  And, in a mood of being VERY specific, this target weight needs to be lost by July.  I’m not entirely sure what’s a safe amount to lose per month, but this should be somewhat achievable (by someone of stronger will and character than mine!)

• Do 30 minutes of exercise every morning.  There is an underlying, and somewhat unsaid, attempt to become ripped!  BEEFCAKE BABY, YEAH!
• Master the sweep.  I will figure out how to sweep like a ninja master, oh yes..

…and there you have it, my three resolutions for 2013.

I shall be taking pics of my travels from porky middle-aged crisis’ee to slim-buff godliness, but you’ll be thankful to hear that I shall place them elsewhere that you are unaware of – can’t be having that kind of horror loose on the young and innocent!

It’s a good thing I have a pretty low opinion of myself otherwise this sort of thing would get me down.  That said, and for reasons I can’t really explain to myself, the ‘Prince Charming’ video (trust me, you had to be there) and attached comments kind of made me… I don’t know, but let’s just say I haven’t been able to watch the video, and probably never will.

This has been a looooong year for lots of reasons and a little letting down of hair, what there is of it, is something that needed to be done.  Although the plan was to get ever so slightly blathered I can’t even begin to claim I was anywhere near this state after just two pints of Magners!  Even I’m not that much of a lightweight, and I *AM* a lightweight when it comes to the fizzy pop, which I think makes the aforementioned pictures worse!

Yep, this is me SOBER!

I am, however, somewhat proud of the way I managed to control myself and keep things “family friendly” whilst a 20-something female colleague bounced around on my lap during some of the fun-n-games of the night.

Legs together, make sure nothing untoward is underhand and think of England!  Love her to bits, but she does know how to cheekily make a 40-something idiot get… actually, let’s just leave it there…

It’s a good thing I’m an idiot with his feet on the ground, especially in that kilt!

There’s no great overriding theme to this blog post, or even an actual point to be made, just a splurging words on the page as I try to get the creative juices flowing and actually finish a ‘book’ that I promised a friend.  I’ve been my usual self in prevaricating and being a little sporadic in my updating of certain chapters; some of the questions are HARD!

…Which I wasn’t, even under severe provocation – GO ME!

This one had me looking, thoughtfully, into thin air for a good few minutes.  I still can’t think what the opener should be;

• I suppose I should be used to this by now..
• I need to man the fuck up…
• I’m scared…

None of them seem to be the right words, although each of them are equally correct.

Tis the time of year when I need to make my usual pilgrimage to the local quackery to get the latest update on the general state of my cancer prone ass.  Not that my ass is in any way the subject of any medical enquiry I hasten to add.

The truth is I’ve been putting off making the appointment.  I’ve gotten to the stage where I don’t think I want to know any more, life was so much easier not knowing.  I certainly had more skin not knowing, and my ears didn’t use to wiggle quite so much when I smiled :-\

The bloody disease has already dictated when (and more alarmingly WHERE) I shave, when I grade in Karate (and continues to do so), what I have to wear whenever big yellow warm thing appears in the blue expanse above our heads… and as for how much those parasitic insurance companies rub their hands in glee whenever I phone up!

So I continue to prevaricate, putting off the prodding and poking and ultimate prognosis from the Doc.  I will phone them up at some point in time, there’s enough undue pressure from other quarters for me to delay it for too long – but for the moment I will just pretend I am Andy and not a prognosis for a little while longer.

http://dorothy.philevans.com/

Rest In Peace little Dorothy Louise Evans, however brief your stay, you were loved by the best of parents.

There’s a lot to be said in just “manning up”, shutting up, ignoring what’s happening internally, and putting yourself in the way of pain.  Whether it be just from karate line drills; throwing strikes and kicks, sweating, letting the lungs and arms know that they are there for a purpose and to be pushed.

…Or whether it be facing the strikes, the kicks, to feel the pain externally.  To know that you can at least control that.  Block or don’t block.  Step in, step back or step sideways.  Your choice regardless of the outcome.

The internal variety?  That’s been with me for a fair old while and has finally gotten to the point where it’s no longer able to be compartmentalised.  It’s hard when you realise that no matter how much you step forward or step back or step sideways, you ultimately have no control over it – that’s for others to deal with.

Next week at least.

This week I’ll just throw myself into the fray with my usual reckless abandon; arms and legs flailing in a manner which only fuels the shaking of my Sensei’s head in quiet, despairing, resignation.  It’s karate Jim, but not as we know it…

I’ve not made it generally known as I can’t be dealing with all the accompanying emotion (mine, not theirs!), and lets face it there’s not an awful lot of people who read this thing.  It’s not that I don’t do emotion, it’s just that most times it overwhelms me.  It’s generally known to those that know me well, and they tend to do the honourable thing and pretend they don’t notice, that I tear up at almost everything;

The crescendo of Bolero, playing of the last post, almost anything that involves my boys grading or receiving other recognitions, even had to catch myself at the home of my Sensei when I thought I would have to give up senior karate.

So I apologies now for any “I’m OKs”, “I’m fine”, “I’m alright”, and general quietness… It’s my usual defence in the absence of any emotional step in, step back or step sideways training.

“When people run in circles it’s a very, very mad world…“

Well, in for a penny in for a pound as the old saying goes.  If the beard has to come off, then the WHOLE LOT has to come off as well.  Beard, chin fuzz and…. upper lip growth.  Now this is a HEEE-OOOGE step for yours truly, I’ve had a mouse-tash since I was a gangly, spotty, bag of raging hormones running around School in Corby.

…and if it has to come off, I may as well document the whole sorry process and have a little fun with it as well.  To be brutally honest this is to ‘gird my loins’ for the whole fuzz removal process as I’ve literally had nightmares as to what the heck my face looks like under there!  Ah well, see the results above and enjoy…

Time to wander around, whilst I await for the face/scalpel meeting of minds, resplendent in my wanton ‘nakedness’ and feeling not unlike Duncan Goodhew’s left testicle O_o

Rather amusingly somebody once said, in a concerned tone, that they hoped I wasn’t ignoring it.  Would that I could.

There is no ignoring it, there’s no rest, there’s no respite.

Yes, I’m on a complete downer today and quite frankly feeling very sorry for myself.. and angry.  The cures no better and as someone once remarked;  The only time killing yourself in millimetres is the best option, considering the alternative…

I will bounce back, but for now allow me to wallow in a little self pity and feelings of belligerence about all the things it has made me give up.

…of course “wallowing” involves loud angry music and hitting the troozDojo to try and at least put some effort into the one thing I have some semblance of control over.