..as in “Ice” but with an “N”, not as in that place in Southern France which is pronounced similar to your sisters daughter.
Nice is a nice thing to be. It’s safe, dependable, and…. well… nice. Nice let’s you get involved in conversations that otherwise you may never get into in the first place. You can banter around slightly risqué topics and sometimes downright rude ones with members of the opposite sex, as quite frankly they trust you enough to not take it seriously at all, cos you’re a downright thoroughly nice chap.
I enjoy these chats actually (and which bloke wouldn’t?) as it tickles that naughty bone I have inside me…. although that could be worded better!
It tickles my nature, is probably a better way of wording it; the bantering around an unseen boundary, not quite knowing how far to take a certain line of thought, and using words in unique ways to put across an idea which can be both innocent and not so.
Sometimes it works deliciously, other times it’s a horrible train wreck. However with the right friends, of a similar impish nature, it’s fun and funny and a source of actual laughing out louds (I was going to put LOLZ, but then remembered I wasn’t 13!).
But the label of “nice” can grate a little. There’s always a part of you that wants others to feel slightly wary, that gives a person that small pause of thought, that exudes that small aura of danger. In the back of your mind you always know that whilst almost everybody likes to fuss and pet their domestic cat it’s the tigers that really get their hearts beating; that frisson of danger that catches the breath.
But….. I *am* a nice person, with a healthy dose of doubt, a self-deprecatingly wry knowledge of one’s own self worth and a morbid fear of seemingly too interested in something/someone as to seem a little distant. We all have our dark hearts under our idiot persona though, which will sometimes roar given the right (or wrong) circumstances
…although for some of us that’s done silently in our own personal space.
In the meantime I shall leave you with this little cartoon which is both funny and painfully close to home.
“Ah“, said the screen, “I think you’re at the ‘Losing my religion’ phase…”
Which is a slightly strange thing to read, especially as I never had ‘religion’ in the first place. There is a heart dropping moment when you feel that the next bit of advise to come your way is about how God will magically come along and fix things for you if only you believe hard enough, visit his house on a regular basis, put pennies in his coffers, read his biography, and mumble to yourself with your hands clapped reverently in front of you.
Well that did flit through my mind briefly and was then rudely drowned out by a mandolin that started playing in my head and the image of some bloke dancing like he’s had all the bones removed from his body.
Support forums are a strange land to inhabit. Sitting in front the computer screen talking with someone you’ve never met about where to stick your personal “use by” tag and whether it really should be “best before” (split decision on this between being a physical or mental age requirement) or “display until” (we shan’t dwell on the conclusion as to when and where that sticker should be placed on your person). Continue reading
Sunday was very much a “Grand Ol’ Duke of York” day; When I was up, I was up. When I was down, I was down. Today I’m neither up nor down. I was going to title this post “Four seasons in one day, part II” for pretty much the same reasons as the original post. A rollercoaster of emotions varying from pain, joy, sadness and pride although not necessarily in that order.
The joy of getting my students to their next level, especially all the new brown belts, was tinged slightly with the realisation that I wasn’t going to be able to make my own progression.
Despite eminently wise words from Sensei, and other friends, about priorities; one can’t but feel that the ‘ongoing buggerage’ has won this little round just before I deal with it ultimately. As noted to my Sensei, “at least it gives me more time to practice my sanseru and sepai“. Although truth be told my heart really wasn’t in it.
I think, if nothing else, the two weeks “off” I’ll be having will give me time to charge up the ol’ batteries. I have already started to fill up my media player with an almost obscene amount of musical tracks and the kindle is starting to groan under the weight of books that have been loaded on there.
It’s also good to know that friends “have your back” and that if nothing else things will be ticking along whilst I’m not there. The hugs have been rather lovely too :¬)
I won’t be online though. Recently, and I mean very very recently, it’s almost been too hard to keep things in check; grading, as I said, was too much of a rollercoaster – and funnily enough I think Sensei was very much aware of that fact… as did my tough love guardian angel (as always)!
you can’t go on thinking nothing’s wrong who’s gonna drive you home tonight?
The answer, as always, is ultimately “me”, but you can’t help but wonder somtimes…
Risk is something we manage every day on an almost unconscious level; Do you pull out from the junction now, or wait until that red car passes by? Sip upon the blessed caffeine bean straight away or blow on it to cool it down just a tad? Stand and block an attack or step forward and sideways to go on the offensive?
All made fairly quickly and without being verbalised as a series of competing options and therein lies the rub, the verbalisation. When the risks are said out loud it’s suddenly a decision that cannot be made unconsciously as it sits in front of you with a quizzical “so?” on its face.
“If you don’t do x, y could happen. However there’s a risk with doing x that may result in y”
It all looks a bit like a mathematical formula at this point, especially when percentages are thrown at you to “help”. Risk now moves from a personal set of choices to an impersonal set of numbers with some unpalatable consequences attached to them… or not… maybe.
So now I am left to face the calculation of “could” vs “may” and all that entails.
There’s a lot to be said for ignoring the whole issue and just throwing yourself into the elsewhere, delaying the inevitable and concentrating on those things that you can influence.. but the quizzical face is still there.
I am looking at a blank screen, an amusing cartoon picture of myself smiling like the idiot I am, Black Stone Cherry playing in the background, an overused backspace key whimpering on my keyboard and a headful of nothing which is successfully making an appearance on this blog.
This post started off life as some form of apology for the sometimes teasing, sometimes sarcastic comments I tend to come out with, morphed to an amusing story about double glazing salesmen, light-hearted texts and then double-backed to the perils of playing with words. Somewhere in the middle of all of that it became a little darker and whinier…. and I now find myself gravitating that way again!
I really should stop trying to write a blog post when I really don’t know what I want to write and begin to just splurge on the page, the results are somewhat more navel gazing than I am comfortable with.
If I’m honest I think, deep down, I’m still a little scared about the whole Cancer thing even though I put the whole happy face on (as ugly an image as that is), and the upcoming visit to the quacks in July for the latest prognosis. Also, this post has also got an awful lot of sentences beginning with “I”, which is both very lazy and a little “me me me”.
I’m (there I go again) also worrying about my next grading, whether my karate is sufficient for the task or whether I can actually *make* the next grading. As I said “dark thoughts indeed” and not something I am overly comfortable with.
I think I need to change the track…. in all senses of the word.
My life would look sooooo much more interesting, than it is in real life, if some stranger were ever to read the texts on my phone and assume the rest of my life was the same.
In my text life I am, well quite frankly, some form of sexual god or at least a successful perv… which is somewhat worrying. To date I am;
A sexy woman’s “first man”
Able to call favours upon another young woman, although to be fair there was some very specific small print in that text.
The recipient of updates regarding the state of dress, or lack thereof, of some bloke stuck on the M25. Dave, please, stop!
Unfortunately, or fortunately in the case of item 3, there were no pictures attached to any of these. It also has to be said that had I not deleted some texts before and after these specific ones, the context of the above may be somewhat different to the way they are read individually …apart from item 3! Seriously! Dave!
Finally if that imagined person who is reading my texts didn’t know what a Sensei was, there are some serious inbreeding issues in certain parts of Northampton town, then my texts could read like me being some EXTREMELY busy prostitute reporting back to my pimp. The mind boggles as to what stock I’m buying for that little venture then!
Ah well, unless you see me hanging around street corners in a natty little skirt, which has been known… the skirt wearing that is… well kilt… HONESTLY IT’S A KILT! …then just assume that my normal hum-drum life is still nowhere as exciting as my textual one :-/
It’s wet and muggy today, and the end to another long karate weekend. Come a grading weekend I never seem to be out of the Gi much, what with teaching on a Saturday morning and Grading on Sunday afternoon, there’s precious little for anything else apart from hitting the sack.
Celebrating an engagement, at least for a little while, was a nice exclamation point to the week and breather before the weekend in white pyjamas began …although once the crazy gang arrived it gave me the chance to slip await quietly.
Grading is a full on exercise for the students and the mugginess just acts to put them under that extra bit of pressure; it’s hard to give 100% when the very air you breath seems to be be doing everything it can to not reach your lungs.
Unfortunately all this makes for a ‘flat’ kumite session, the students just too shattered to put up much of a fight.. I even had to practically chase one potential red belt around the dojo to get him to spar me. I’m really not that scary!
However what makes your day is seeing a little 6 year old girl giving it her all to achieve that next belt. Despite the mugginess, despite always seeming to be the smallest in the room, despite the tears of frustration when she ‘perceives’ she can’t do quite what you ask of them, and repeating this at least 5-6 times a week, still doesn’t give up and puts everything she has to gain that next milestone…
Kinda makes you a little embarrassed at the navel gazing you let yourself indulge in every so often. Thankfully nobody was looking too closely at me as she ran up to get her shiny new red built and certificate, I do have a reputation to maintain… or at least I like to think I have one.
Well apparently my last post was a “little too much information” for some people, and I have the sore ear to prove this, although I think it still serves as a good reference point for all budding future male karate do practitioners… go figure!
That apart I have the uncomfortable feeling that I really haven’t moved any further forward from where I was a few weeks back, I may have even moved backwards on a few items, which is a buggarage and all of which is making me even less fun company to be with than usual.
Introspection is all well and good for a hormone overdosed teenager, who feels the whole world is against them, but for a forty *cough* year old it can be a little ridiculous, but here we are. Turn up, do what’s expected of you; smile, laugh, practise, teach, drink, chat …. leave quietly. All without actually being there in mind or spirit.
I am missing not having a motorbike at the moment, taking very long, very fast rides to nowhere. In my mispent youthdom, when in the same type of mood (when it wasn’t a ridiculous age to be as introspective) this was my favourite form of escape… at least for a little while.
Now I have a blog, a large music collection and a hidy-hole where I can be anti-social to my heart’s content. I think that’s progress?
……also I do worry that Creed, 3 Doors Down, Daughtry, Theory Of A Deadman, Seether and Stone Sour are not the sort of tunes to help my teenage regression… but DAMN! There’s some damn fine lyrics in there and is at least helping me to figure out some future blog post titles.
I won’t dwell on the week that has just passed as it has been one of *THE* most painful, physically, that I have experienced for a long while.. but more importantly my previous post went through a complete rant on how I wouldn’t mention this kind of thing again, and it seems a little churlish to make the following post completely ignore that half-baked promise.
Instead I shall concentrate on what I know now that I didn’t know last week;
The song “Turning Japanese” by The Vapors is about masturbation, whacking-one-off, spanking the monkey, etc, etc… Seriously, I didn’t know Officer!
You can make scrambled eggs in the microwave! This was a moment of epiphany for me and smacks of witchcraft and necromancy. I haven’t actually seen this devilry in action, but I have been told in good authority that this is actually possible.
“But it’s alright if you act like a turd, ’cause i like….. birds” is both awesome *AND* perfectly acceptable as lyrics for a song.
Abdominal muscles when they involuntarily spasm and tighten, for two whole days, is eye wateringly painful *AND* makes it almost impossible to poop. I missed the pooping.
Spaghetti does not grow on trees. I am still getting this one confirmed, am not entirely convinced.
Calling a surgeon “Doctor” is considered an insult by them… that’s one to file away for future reference, but only for AFTER they’ve had their hands in your innards.
It *IS* possible to make peas taste worserererer
I try, as a general rule, to maintain an air of general ignorance at all times – however these little snippets did manage to permeate my thick noggin, which I now pass onto you for your delectation and hope that you find them as useful as I did.
You know what? I am bored of this now; the ups ‘n downs, the no-news, the unwelcome news and all the bits in between. I am tired of writing about it, almost as much as you are reading about it.. probably.
I am supposed to be at Karate now, getting my unfit body dragged and beaten up around a School hall somewhere in Northamptonshire, and I was all but there… instead I am now here in a foul mood and desperately trying not to drag this post down into a long list of anglo-saxon, and some exciting newly invented, words.
Quite frankly everybody has an “It” of their own without me adding to the It’iness of it all. So henceforth “It” shall not be getting any more column space on this little irrelevant corner of the T’interweb unless it’s a post with a title along the lines of “So long and thanks for all the fish”.
That of course may change as I am a man of short memory and whimsical nature, and this is my blog and I’ll whine if I want to – to paraphrase Barbara Gaskin
My life would look sooooo much more interesting, than it is in real life, if some stranger were ever to read the texts on my phone and assume the rest of my life was the same.
