I know, I know. I didn’t post yesterday. Today’s post will be somewhat lackluster as well since it feels like someone is trying to stab my eyeball. They apparently decided to flank the poor eyeball and are coming from the north and the rear.
Anyway, today I’m supposed to post a picture of me that is over ten years old. Without further ado, here are two.
As you can see, no enemy feared me or my pigtails. While some of the basics I learned (whether I wanted to or not) in karate have stuck with me, I was not the most attentive of students. My clearest memory of this period, aside from the day I punched my dad because he told me to, was Sensei telling me that if I was doing my whatever it was that day properly, I’d be sweating.
Umm, gross. Who wants to sweat?
I remember feeling frustrated because I had actually been trying that day. I didn’t realize until many years and a volleyball season or two later that I fell under the “glisten” category of women. Some women sweat, some glisten. Which isn’t to say I never sweat, but I digress.
Those lessons were something my dad got jazzed about. He enjoyed Karate and he wanted his daughters to enjoy it as well. Another style may have suited me better, but the fact is I spent the majority of my time in those classes going through the motions and wishing I was in ballet. I spent most of my time wanting to do ballet. I also wanted to enter the Labyrinth and ride Falcor.
End result? I never got the reason behind shouting “keeyah” after every move, I love kung fu movies and I still think I’d make an awesome Childlike Empress.