The Flying Scissors, and being generally flipping cool

Got new boxing gloves this week.

Golly, it's exciting. My old gloves were almost ten years old, and starting to cause a wrist injury. I used the new ones for the first time this evening, woweeeeeeeeee :) *happy dance*

So my gloves look kinda like this...

...Twins Special is a top brand in martial arts apparel, these particular gloves being hand-made from genuine leather in Thailand. They are used by professionals all over the world.

At one point this evening, I really felt like I had spontaneously become a more awesome boxer. I felt faster and stronger, my punches felt like they carried more weight, I thought my posture had improved and that maybe, just maybe, I looked as wicked-cool-dangerous as I feel when I'm boxing. Oh yeeeaaah, these gloves have definitely made me a more proficient boxer. Move out the way Ali, I'm about to float like a butterfly and sting  like a bee. 

So, I was well into my training this evening, and increasingly convinced that I have been transformed into the next Baby Jake. I've been working on a wicked combo for the past few weeks, one that I've nicknamed "The Flying Scissors". It sounds dangerous, doesn't it? Yes. I'm impressed too. My husband assures me that it is rather intimidating to watch as well. I don't care that he's biased and trying to win brownie points.

The Flying Scissors consists of a back-hand, followed closely by a some weird kung fu sweeping backhand by the other hand. I then use the momentum from this sweeping motion to perform one final, lethal, spinning backhand with the same hand that delivered the first back-hand. Ok, I know I've lost you, but essentially, it's three back-hands one after the other in a Tekken-style spinning motion, probably highly illegal in most martial arts, and very aggressive. And it feels pretty flipping cool.

This particular combo requires several things that I naturally fall short of...
Grace. (usually bestowed on those who don't habitually trip over their own feet)
Hand-eye coordination. (not the kind where you hit yourself in the eye - that's the kind I do have)
Balance. (Yeah, right!)
Aim. (There's nothing quite as awkward and humiliating as missing the punching bag at full speed.. Doh!)

Being the clumsy, nerdy girl I am, I was quite surprised this evening to find myself delivering the Flying Scissors with such grace, coordination, balance and aim. Such precision. Wow. If I were my punching bag, I would have been profoundly terrified of me.

If I had known that my intrinsic clumsiness could be cured with a new pair of boxing gloves, I would have acquired these a long time ago.  I officially feel kick-ass cool.

For now anyways.


Bruce Lee: Fear not the man who has practiced a thousand kicks once; but the man who has practiced one kick a thousand times.

If Looks Could Kill

I have once before mentioned that I am not a nice person without sleep. (read more about that here) I have been awake since 02h30 this morning. After a meager 4 hours of sleep, my brain decided it was time to tear my eyes open and start thinking. I had a long debate with my brain and fought over control of my eyes, but my brain, far more clever than I, won the argument, and so by 03h30 I was up and about, finding ways to waste time before getting ready for work.

It comes as no surprise therefore, that I am not my usual cheerful self. No, I'm not in a bad mood, per se, but I would venture to say that I'm just not ready for a civil conversation as yet. I may become ready after the tenth or perhaps eleventh cup of coffee. This, despite my 2012 resolution to give up caffeine. Hmm.

I don't know how many of you have watched Twilight (the first one, yes) and can recall the scene in which Edward Cullen appears just in time to save Bella Swan from a group of nasty thugs... If you're a man, you'll know it as the scene where he swings that Volvo around in the most impressive J-turn. For us ladies, we remember "The Look".

The Look is the expression that Edward Cullen wore when staring down the thugs - the dark eyes, almost burning a hole right through the thug's face with a smoldering blackness pouring out of his gaze. It's a look that says, "One more move, and I. Will. Kill. You."

I have always been fascinated by The Look, and have spent years trying to master it. Unfortunately, many failed attempts have resulted in me just appearing sulky. Or petulant. My husband tells me that I look about as dangerous as an angry kitten, and instead of being terrifying, i'm just adorable enough to pat on the head and say, "Aaah shame, she's angry!'

Anyways, back to today. I'm usually a very chilled person in traffic. Cut me off, I don't mind. If you don't endanger my life, I won't bat an eyelid. Do what you want, I'm a duck, and you're literally slipping off my back.
Not today. In my sleep-deprived state today, I happen to care. As a young gentleman in a polo discovered the hard way.

Two lanes of traffic, moving the same speed (slow). I leave a half-car length in front of me to be safe, and polo-dude decides to cut me off, just to see if my lane is moving a smidgen faster than his. Two seconds. He looks in his rearview mirror. Split-second. He's back in the other lane.

What.... just... happened...? Is it possible...? Yes...? I'd like to think that for the first time, I have managed to master The Look. I'd like to believe that polo-dude was utterly intimidated by the chilling, cold-hearted murderous-ness in my eyes... Oh, the power...!

Fear me, Fellow Inhabitants! Feeeaaaarrrr mmeeeeeeeeee.

TODAY

Feeling a bit rattled this morning. Was stuck in slow-moving traffic on my way to work which, as it turns out, was the result of a hit and run. Some poor dude seems to have been hit on the shoulder of the road, lying twisted in the dirt and bleeding. What a disturbing sight. It must have just happened, because there were no emergency vehicles on the scene, and one police car was just arriving.

There was a handful of people standing around. Just standing around, I couldn’t understand it. Why weren’t they helping him? Why weren’t they trying to check his vitals? Wasn’t there something they could do? Anything at all? My mind was racing, should I stop? Should I pull over and help? Even now I wonder if I should have, could have… just done something…?

I reasoned with myself that the police would know what to do, and drove on.

In hindsight, I realize that the only real reason why a handful of humans would stand by in idleness is that their fellow human on the road was probably already gone. Already too late.

It occurred to me how upset I was. I, a stranger, shedding a tear in my car for a nameless man on the side of the road. I, with nothing invested in this man, mourning his death. It made me think… How much more must God’s heart ache, break, be ripped open, for this man, whom he created, loved, died for, pursued, obsessed over…? How Big is the Love of Papa, for His Beloved!

Fellow Inhabitants of this beautiful, tragic planet, be grateful for your today, for someone else did not get to have it. Say “I love you” to the people you care about. Do something good. Be kind to people around you. Smile at others. Make today count.