Aikido: The Way of Harmony

I'm not quite sure how this relates to my maturing. I'm going to chuck it in the "Diversify" bucket, when it may actually belong in the "WTF" bucket. Anyway, anyone who knows me well knows that I am an Italian minor, with the slightly....um, lets say quirky caveat that I don't speak Italian. I can understand it and say semi-coherent sentences when under pressure or the influence of alcohol, but I am not fluent. This why my "Survey of Italian Literature" class was kicking my ass. If I'm not totally comfortable with modern Italian, it stands to reason that Dante is going to cause unnecessary stress.

So, I decided to search for a class to take Italian's place. And the one that I found was Aikido, aka "soft" martial arts.

Aikido: A Japanese form of self-defense and martial art that uses locks, holds, throws, and the opponent's own movements. Aikido focuses not on punching or kicking opponents, but rather on using their own energy to gain control of them or to throw them away from you.

Last week, I was having a meeting with my co-producer and decided that I would skip Italian and go to Aikido that day. The decision was made, of course, about 10 minutes before the class started. As fate would have it, that was the day I chose to break in my new boots. They're adorable -- leather-ish, black, Granny-boots with approximately, a THREE INCH HEEL. Error. Error.

So, I head over the Pearson Hall, the Gym Building, the building I have never before stepped foot in and sashayed into Aikido. There I am, doing my urban chic impression, surrounded by twenty people bouncing around the carpet in dogis, aka those white karate pajamas. To say I stood out, would be to say that Gigli was sub-par. I think the TA had to do a double take when he saw me. Meanwhile, I was just grateful that I wore my pseudo-boyfriend jeans rather than skinny jeans.

Luckily there was another girl there who, though in much more appropriate attire, was new, so I partnered up with her for the technique and we struggled through together. The teacher and the TAs were very nice and patient with us as they corrected our stances and went through techniques slowly. I thought that Aikido would be fun and easy. Well, it was definitely fun, but not easy. It seems that much of Aikido is an art form, so the rules are fairly strict. Nonetheless, I enjoy learning different things and after class, I headed to the bookstore to buy my very own dogi.

If you don't know what Aikido is, here is a video of Steven Seagal doing it. One day, that will be me...jk

Slashed

Over the summer, I had one of my first real 'pain in the ass' grown up days. I returned to Philly after a weekend at home and scooted off to work in my Loser Cruiser-Soccer Mom Van named Bertha. About half way down the block, I noticed a strange sound coming from the car. When I pulled over to inspect, I saw that my tire was flat. But not only was it flat, it had been slashed!

I tried to think of the person with whom I clearly had some beef, but came up empty. I have never slighted someone so badly that they would slash my tires. Now, I understand vandalism for the sake of profit (or I suppose that's theft?) or vandalism for the sake of expression like graffiti. But slashing my tire got me a ginormous pain and some kid ten seconds of tire air in his or her face. So thanks to what I presume was a troubled teen without cable, I had to call AAA. The AAA guy unscrewed the doughnut from my 1998 van and found that it was rusty as shit and not completely filling with air. So after he left, I called out of work and looked up my nearest Pep Boys. On the phone, I asked the Pep Boy for two tires -- one to put on my car and one to put in my car as a spare.

A note to all my fellow adulthood newbs out there: Apparently this is crazy woman talk because no one gets a tire and throws it in the back. They take up a lot of space, which would be really inconvenient since I only have an entire Soccer Mom van with two extra rows of seats.

After arguing a little with the Pep Boy and hearing him shake his head and roll his eyes, I let it go and drove my three tires and one doughnut over to Broad and Other Street. When I got there, the guy I'd talked with, who clearly found my naivete darling, flirted with me a little. But he left fairly quickly because (1) he was working (2) I happen to be an expert in the ancient art of warding off men and (3) he'd just treated me like a moron, so there was zero effort on my part. Instead, I waited patiently in the customer area for my turn to pay $120 for a new tire.

Although I am grateful for my automotive support, if I never see AAA or Pep Boys again, I will die contented. Ahhh, life lessons....