Oh, the Joys of Female Fighting

In addition to having class knock the crap out of every muscle in my body on Tuesday, I also had a sparring partner knee me just below my bellybutton on my left hand side. This also happens to be the side where my IUD, when it does pinch, pinches.

If she'd kneed me full force, I'd probably have punctured something. As it was, there was no blood, and when I checked the string it was still in place, but the bump to my uterus got the thing all worked up again, and I've been having those occasional jittery sorts of cramps that I was still getting a couple months after it got put in. Once again, starts pinching at me when I sit for long periods (again, a common symptom during the first three months), and it's annoying enough that I'm considering going out and buying some Motrin.

I love my IUD cause there's no weight gain, no diminished sex drive, and no depression (all symptoms I experienced while on various Pills). But once a month there's seven days of blood and pain that used to just be five days of non-painful inconvienence.

What pisses me off is that when it comes to contraception, women get it coming and going. I've found that my contraceptive choices tend to be based on "which does me the least amount of pain, damage, and discomfort?" The IUD won.

One of the first things I looked into was, "What happens if I get hit during class?"
The answer really depends on how you get hit, best I've figured. Most women who end up with perforated uteruses have it happen on insertion, so if you can get through that OK, you'll be all right.

Still, as I continue with class, it's something I'll have to keep an eye on. As a woman who hasn't had a kid (and therefore has a smaller uterus), I'm not the ideal candidate for an IUD, and the problem of the tight fit has been an issue from the start.

But oh man does it beat depression and non-interest in sex.

And That's How I'm Going to Fix the Education System

Just like that.

Sometimes the Internets Leave Me Speechless

Cats sing "Independent Woman."

Really, I have no commentary.

My Workweek

As We'd Say Around Here: Must Be One of God's Foods!

Because it Doesn't Always Have to Be That Way

Whenever people start arguing about biological roles and restrictions and "that's just the way it's always been" and "it'll always be that way," it always pissed me the fuck off, not only because things could be really differet, but because sometimes, things are really different (fast foward to about minute 4 if you're impatient).

It'll just "always be that way" until a bunch of you decide that it isn't.

Snapshots of Dayton

At lunch today, a bunch of people in suits and skirts participated in a rubber duck race in the big fountain in the main square near the courthouse downtown. There was a big inflated duck on a stage. When the whistle blew, the desk jockeys leapt into the knee-high fountain with their ducks and were off. One woman tripped in the fountain and got soaked from hat brim to stockinged feet.

AFter work, while sitting on the courthouse steps waiting for the bus amid a congregation of likeminded travelers, I witnessed a young man with a bible in his hand take up his place in front of us and proceeded to preach to us of Satan and Jesus, and how if Satan had stolen our self respect, our job, our luck, that Jesus would break into Satan's kingdom and get all of those things back for us.

One woman yelled from the audience, "Satan rules!"

It occurred to me that I don't have any street preachers in God's War. I need to remedy this.

I think the rest of the day was just too surreal to process.

Take Me Out

I was looking at an ad for a play showing in Dayton tonight and saw this warning message attached to the ad in the local City Guide:

"WARNING: Contains strong lanauage and male nudity - not recommended for audiences under 17."

I don't think I've ever seen a rating system that specificed the sex that was baring all. I'm assuming that the assumption here is that audiences will find a flacid male member far more intimidating than a pair of breasts (the play is also about race and homosexuality - maybe the whole "male nudity" thing is code for that in case insecure het men decide to go and see a "play about baseball" and get freaked out that it's *also* about baseball...).

There's no reason why a naked woman couldn't be seen as powerful and sexually threatening and a naked man viewed as a docile object to be dominated. There are certainly *instances* of this, and much of the control of women and their bodies - what they show, to who, and when - is of course done because women *are* secretly seen as powerful. But it *is* a secret super power - the rest of the world doesn't want to code it that way.

It does make me wonder if the whole bluster about male nudity is just a big sham to cover up the fact that the naked man is just as vulnerable - if not more so - than the naked female.

Ever so fascinating.

The Shuffle

I held out the hope of hitting MA class tonight right up until about 4pm, when I discovered that I was still hobbling around the office like an old woman.

Stephanie saw me painfully shuffling around the kitchen this morning and said, "Boy, I bet you're sore."

"I hurt like hell."

"Didn't you take any anti-inflammatories?"

"Um... no?"

"Are you drinking a lot of water to rehydrate and help your muscles repair themselves?"

"Um... I'm just drinking the same amount of water."

"Are you doing anything that isn't bad so I don't feel like I have to nag you?"

"Um... look at my bicep, isn't it KEWL???!!!"

Saturday it is.

By the Numbers

So, I got my first paycheck for a full week of work yesterday, and did the math.

With what I'm making a week, after taxes, I'm making a grand total of:

20K a year.

I'm now working 40 hours a week to make $85 a week more than I was getting when I was on unemployment.

20K a year.

Wow.

What's the poverty line again? Half that, maybe. And the only reason I can make it on this is because I don't pay rent or utilities. Also: no health insurance, no benefits.

Boy, I sure am glad I got all that education just for shits and giggles, cause if I was expecting paychecks...

Fuck.

One for the Road

On Becoming a Supah Ninjah

Had my first day of MA class at the new school yesterday. Biked half an hour out there, had class for an hour and a half, and biked a half hour back. Tomorrow, I get to do it all over again!

We opened with kicking drills and then did an hour - an *hour* - of grappling. I'm not using to doing a lot of holds & etc. work, and especially not for an *hour,* and we switched up partners a lot, which was good.

One of the tough parts about starting a new school is that everybody's sort of uncertain about what level of contact their partner is comfortable with, and you have to work it out and get comfortable with it as you go along. Something that made me really happy about my last school was that I partnered with guys a lot; being as tall and heavy as I am, it helps me a lot more to get paired with somebody of equal size.

There was a lot of merry dancing in the beginning as all the women in class had been partnered at least once with all the other women in class, and then the instructor finally prodded everybody into mixed-sex pairs.

Most people were great, but I ended up partnered with a guy who was really nervous - either about partnering with a girl or possibly being beat by a girl or *something,* and when I went to practice the hold, wrapping my hands behind his head, pressing my forearms against his chest and pulling his head forward and down, he exclaimed, "Oh, look, cleavage!"

It was the most bizarrely inappropriate (and inaccurate) thing I think I've ever heard in MA class, and my immediate thought was, "Wow, this guy must be, like, 12." I wasn't, in fact, showing any cleavage, as I'm small breasted and was wearing a sturdy sports bra under a high scooped neck tank top.

Perhaps he thought this was a way of alleviating the tension he experienced while being partnered with a girl, or perhaps he thought this would somehow make me feel more relaxed. Who knows? He went on to knock the glasses off my face and leave a big claw mark on my forehead when we should have just been doing some friendly hold-and-release drills. The behavior drew the attention of the instructor and several classmates, who were just as curious as I was about what he was trying to prove showing that he had better skillz than the New Chick.

Dunno.

Aside from that, it was a really good experience. We finished up with some time with glove and mitts, which felt sofuckingunbelievablygoodyouhavenoidea. It's been awhile since I got to hit things.

I had a lot of anxiety about getting back to class. I usually end up being the fattest person in class, and last night was no exception, so I spent the evening doing just as many pushups as everyone else and muddling through things I should probably have asked for more help with. Always trying to prove things...

What I told myself when I first started MA classes back in 2004 (dear lord was it that long ago?) was that, even if I sucked and got everything wrong and was totally weak and uncoordinated and had the body type of a mushroom that I would never again be totally new and unfamilier with how to hit things, with forms and how to do drills and all that. Sure, you have to relearn things and get back into it and recondition and all that, but it's never totally new. You're only totally new ONCE. That space in your head for all of this stuff has already been pushed out, and your body can get back into it a lot more easily than it did the first time.

That kept me going, and yeah, it payed off. Because starting a new school is a *lot* easier than it was starting my first school. I feel like less of an idiot (and less of a mushroom), and less uncoordinated, and the whole deal. I don't feel incompetent, and I already know some of my biggest strengths and weakneses.

When the class formed up for the night, I realized that the shirts that everybody was wearing read:

When
I
See
Something
I
Kick
It.

Yeah.

Something tells me that me and this MA school will get along just fine...

The Internets is Weird, Yo

Yo, people. Just... you. I work all day and this is what I come back to???

Can't we just all turn into pirates someday?

Or supah ninajahs?

SOPs

Mmmmm SOPs.

There's NOTHING MORE FUN THAN EDITING and FORMATTING SOPs (Standard Operating Procedures) ALL DAY.

How To Install Windows XP/Outlook/Office, whatthefuckever:

Now hit Next.

Next, you'll click NEXT.

We'll select "Next."

Choose Next.

Now press "NEXT."

I usually hit NEXT.

NEXT.

NOW HIT NEXT!!!!!!

Delicious!

(and yes, every single one of the SOPs came to me in a different tense and style with wildly different ways of signifying that "Next" was the name of a button and not just a word. This is why they hired me. I did these for eight hours today, and I'm only about halfway done. More are coming)

And you know what?

I still love every minute of it.

Yup, That's the One

Starting tomorrow, this will be my new MA school.


Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!

Suck it Up, Hurley

Well, the collective effort of three moderately active people finally made the old elliptical I carted in from Chicago go kaput. Me and the roomies spent the entirety of Sunday afternoon looking for a similiarly compact and reasonably priced machine, to no avail. We'll eventually get a new one, but not this week.

This means I either need to go jogging or take another bike ride tonight. And, really, I need to bike down to the proposed MA school and sign up for a free trial class for Wednesday.

But! But! But!

Ugh. Exercise. You do it cause you feel better afterwards.

Really, that's the only reason.

OK, and you lift weights cause it makes your arms look cool, and you can hit people.

I mean, in self defense!

Geez!

I Carry A Spoon

Blarg

Just... blarg.

Heartless E-Cards!

Useful for every occasion...

One for the Road