In the midst of uploading vacation pictures to facebook, downloading modern family episodes and taping hanji paper to my wall I have to take a little break and blog.
My surroundings have changes so much and so many times in the past month. I have trekked through Vietnam, soaked up the sun while viewing Wats in Thailand and experienced the beautiful oddness that is Kuala Lumpur. Then, I took over my co-teachers room and hung out with her adorable family. Eating, drinking and sleeping the days away. Now I have finally arrived at my new homestay.
From the get-go I think this is a better fit. As odd as it may sound I loved that they want me to do my own laundry and they have a schedule up on the board where I can write out my schedule for the week. The dad speaks English and wants to play card games after dinner. The mom wants me to show her how to cook asparagus and beans. THE DAUGHTER STAYS OUT OF MY ROOM. Ahh...
Though I am far from a final analysis on my host family I can certainly say that I appreciate the calmness and subtle curiosity with which they approach me. I appreciate being treated like an adult and not a play thing. I think it is sure sign that my room does not have a lock on it because I will not have to use it in order to attain sanity.
My closet is a mess but that can wait until tomorrow. Many things can wait...goodnight.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
WWTD?
Do you remember the WWJD craze? Everyone would wear a bracelet in a variety of bright hues that had WWJD etched in, reminding them to think through their choices and rationalize their decisions based on what Jesus would do?
I too look to a higher power when making hard decisions about life. Though my idol is a far cry from a religious figure he is now in his 50s and still rocking a six pack. The rational and level headedness with which my shepherd guides his tiny flock is the reason why his few followers are so devout. From an early age I have been conditioned to follow a thought process that mirrors one of my father, who happens to be the greatest man to have actually walked the earth.
SO what would Tato do? I think that question should be rephrased to – What has he already done?
My dad has many accomplishments that others would drool over and aspire to write on their resume. Though I mostly know about his “office” through yearly “take your daughter to work” days I know that his job is one that requires a lot of intellect (read: PhD) and reasoning power(read and cringe: math), and comes with the title of “Crack Analysis Specialist”. The man also works out during his lunch break after eating the lunch that my mom has been packing him for the past 20 years.
Outside of work he is also always busy with handyman projects and hobbies. Building a bed or installing marble counter tops is his idea of fun on a Saturday afternoon. Cooking has also become an increased interest to the delight of the taste buds and noses of the entire neighborhood. I think renaissance man would be the appropriate term to describe him.
I may have overlooked the minor fact, a tiny milestone in my development, that he had a huge role in undertaking—moving our family from Ukraine. A bold move that I believe, no…I know, changed the trajectory of my opportunities and pretty much redefined my existence in this world.
Bold move indeed. But it was not the first nor last. One thing that inspires while simultaneously scares me about my father is that he is able to take risks. Massive, bold and high stakes where there is a likelihood of massive failure. I remember as a young girl sitting on the couch and thinking why he bothered to do those things, why he wasn’t happy just living the life at a neutral pace. I think I even asked him how he could keep steady nerves while taking such large gambles. His reply was way over my head at that point but I think I somewhat understand it now… “so if I don’t then what…then I am just sitting and waiting and I will think back about what I could have done, at least this way I can think about how I tried”
Recently, I was reminded of my youthful thoughts when writing a letter asking to change my home stay. I had realized that I had been a person who makes the best of things within the confines of their situation, accepting things as they are and just working towards happiness inside the box. It wasn’t until that letter that I joined my father outside of the box, instead of making the situation work I was now the person who changes the situation completely. It felt strange yet very empowering.
I am thankful, grateful and forever in debt to him for his checkmate choices, using everything in his arsenal to play the game and secure the king. A parallel emotion that accompanies those kindhearted feelings is a hunger to have my own stab at it.
It meaning LIFE.
The most memorable words from my father are as follows “It is the children’s job to be better than the parents” this simple phrase has been the fuel behind my fire ever since it escaped from his lips. When I think about the opportunities he has given me; the priceless gifts of education, travel and understanding of multiple cultures I am sometimes left scratching my head about how I can actually surpass his accomplishments.
As a youngster I heard him tell stories of punching buckets of sand to work up calices on his hands so he could break boards in Karate. Then I became a black belt and state champ myself. I marveled at how he learned languages like Polish by simply reading books and I feel like I will never stop trying to speak in tongues or trying to keep the old ones afloat in my head. I watched him coach my brother’s roller hockey team and then felt the joys of coaching (and domination) myself as I lead my crazy 5th and 6th graders to the Championship softball game. His PhD is currently matched only by my masters but I am in no way done adding letters to my name. Because he made me run barefoot very damn morning of my elementary years I now make a conscious choice to work out and run to stay fit.
There are probably many more examples of what I have seen him do and then attempted to mimic in my own way. One thing that I will never be able to recreate, no matter how hard I work is a certain look that my father has. It is a distinguishing feature much like his height or his calf muscles or overly exposed abdomen that have been burned into my memory banks. However, unlike the characteristic I just mentioned it is not useful for spotting him from afar at the mall but it is a physical feature that for me defines who he is. My dad has a way of smiling with only his eyes that is the single most rewarding expression I have experienced. It is hard to describe because it is as simple and subtle as it is frequent. Little wrinkles- crows feet-erosions of the face appear around the eyes and they tell me that he knows more than he is letting on. I can’t help but smile when I see his eyes posed in that position as he holds back all other emotion from his face.
So what would Tato do? He would smile with his eyes and pick the next activity to master. Thus I must too trudge on and tackle increasing challenges until I have my own offspring to set an incredibly high bar for and smile with my eyes wishing them success.
I too look to a higher power when making hard decisions about life. Though my idol is a far cry from a religious figure he is now in his 50s and still rocking a six pack. The rational and level headedness with which my shepherd guides his tiny flock is the reason why his few followers are so devout. From an early age I have been conditioned to follow a thought process that mirrors one of my father, who happens to be the greatest man to have actually walked the earth.
SO what would Tato do? I think that question should be rephrased to – What has he already done?
My dad has many accomplishments that others would drool over and aspire to write on their resume. Though I mostly know about his “office” through yearly “take your daughter to work” days I know that his job is one that requires a lot of intellect (read: PhD) and reasoning power(read and cringe: math), and comes with the title of “Crack Analysis Specialist”. The man also works out during his lunch break after eating the lunch that my mom has been packing him for the past 20 years.
Outside of work he is also always busy with handyman projects and hobbies. Building a bed or installing marble counter tops is his idea of fun on a Saturday afternoon. Cooking has also become an increased interest to the delight of the taste buds and noses of the entire neighborhood. I think renaissance man would be the appropriate term to describe him.
I may have overlooked the minor fact, a tiny milestone in my development, that he had a huge role in undertaking—moving our family from Ukraine. A bold move that I believe, no…I know, changed the trajectory of my opportunities and pretty much redefined my existence in this world.
Bold move indeed. But it was not the first nor last. One thing that inspires while simultaneously scares me about my father is that he is able to take risks. Massive, bold and high stakes where there is a likelihood of massive failure. I remember as a young girl sitting on the couch and thinking why he bothered to do those things, why he wasn’t happy just living the life at a neutral pace. I think I even asked him how he could keep steady nerves while taking such large gambles. His reply was way over my head at that point but I think I somewhat understand it now… “so if I don’t then what…then I am just sitting and waiting and I will think back about what I could have done, at least this way I can think about how I tried”
Recently, I was reminded of my youthful thoughts when writing a letter asking to change my home stay. I had realized that I had been a person who makes the best of things within the confines of their situation, accepting things as they are and just working towards happiness inside the box. It wasn’t until that letter that I joined my father outside of the box, instead of making the situation work I was now the person who changes the situation completely. It felt strange yet very empowering.
I am thankful, grateful and forever in debt to him for his checkmate choices, using everything in his arsenal to play the game and secure the king. A parallel emotion that accompanies those kindhearted feelings is a hunger to have my own stab at it.
It meaning LIFE.
The most memorable words from my father are as follows “It is the children’s job to be better than the parents” this simple phrase has been the fuel behind my fire ever since it escaped from his lips. When I think about the opportunities he has given me; the priceless gifts of education, travel and understanding of multiple cultures I am sometimes left scratching my head about how I can actually surpass his accomplishments.
As a youngster I heard him tell stories of punching buckets of sand to work up calices on his hands so he could break boards in Karate. Then I became a black belt and state champ myself. I marveled at how he learned languages like Polish by simply reading books and I feel like I will never stop trying to speak in tongues or trying to keep the old ones afloat in my head. I watched him coach my brother’s roller hockey team and then felt the joys of coaching (and domination) myself as I lead my crazy 5th and 6th graders to the Championship softball game. His PhD is currently matched only by my masters but I am in no way done adding letters to my name. Because he made me run barefoot very damn morning of my elementary years I now make a conscious choice to work out and run to stay fit.
There are probably many more examples of what I have seen him do and then attempted to mimic in my own way. One thing that I will never be able to recreate, no matter how hard I work is a certain look that my father has. It is a distinguishing feature much like his height or his calf muscles or overly exposed abdomen that have been burned into my memory banks. However, unlike the characteristic I just mentioned it is not useful for spotting him from afar at the mall but it is a physical feature that for me defines who he is. My dad has a way of smiling with only his eyes that is the single most rewarding expression I have experienced. It is hard to describe because it is as simple and subtle as it is frequent. Little wrinkles- crows feet-erosions of the face appear around the eyes and they tell me that he knows more than he is letting on. I can’t help but smile when I see his eyes posed in that position as he holds back all other emotion from his face.
So what would Tato do? He would smile with his eyes and pick the next activity to master. Thus I must too trudge on and tackle increasing challenges until I have my own offspring to set an incredibly high bar for and smile with my eyes wishing them success.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
I can't function in this cold.
TODAY IS SO COLD.
Last night I went to an interesting and highly entertaining drum show (Korea's 4th national treasure- a drummer man, was performing) followed by a delightful evening filled with delicious food (italian- a place called napoli with a chef from napoli) making some new Chinese friends and befriending the wife of Matt Miller's principal. The atmosphere was splendid and I was so happy to be in great company and share interesting conversations as well as perform an awkward yet video taped version of "The itsy bitsy spider" for the entire crowd. I want more evenings like that. Very classy.
Also, it is bitter cold. My jacket is stabbed through multiple times by the jaws of winter as the needle wind takes illegal jabs at my face. Make it stop. Vietnam is supposed to be in the 30 degrees which is better than my 1 degree here in DAEGU.
I have devoured an entire bag of cheerios cereal in three sittings.
My love for TV has resurfaced and I watched 10 episodes of Modern Family in one afternoon (this storyline parallels the one of my cheerio eating fests)
I still have to purchase a flight from vietnam to thailand and pack.
IT IS SO FRIGIDLY UNBEARABLY COLD THAT I WILL DIE if I don't hide under my blankets and cling to my heated mattress from the time I get home from school until I have to wake up the next morning. That is what ARizona weather has done to me. It has made me soft.
Last night I went to an interesting and highly entertaining drum show (Korea's 4th national treasure- a drummer man, was performing) followed by a delightful evening filled with delicious food (italian- a place called napoli with a chef from napoli) making some new Chinese friends and befriending the wife of Matt Miller's principal. The atmosphere was splendid and I was so happy to be in great company and share interesting conversations as well as perform an awkward yet video taped version of "The itsy bitsy spider" for the entire crowd. I want more evenings like that. Very classy.
Also, it is bitter cold. My jacket is stabbed through multiple times by the jaws of winter as the needle wind takes illegal jabs at my face. Make it stop. Vietnam is supposed to be in the 30 degrees which is better than my 1 degree here in DAEGU.
I have devoured an entire bag of cheerios cereal in three sittings.
My love for TV has resurfaced and I watched 10 episodes of Modern Family in one afternoon (this storyline parallels the one of my cheerio eating fests)
I still have to purchase a flight from vietnam to thailand and pack.
IT IS SO FRIGIDLY UNBEARABLY COLD THAT I WILL DIE if I don't hide under my blankets and cling to my heated mattress from the time I get home from school until I have to wake up the next morning. That is what ARizona weather has done to me. It has made me soft.
Monday, November 29, 2010
I am in love.
I am beginning to realize that I have fallen in love. It is scary. It is somewhat unexpected, yet I cannot deny the feeling of my insides bubbling over with happiness.
The object of my relentless love does not have a name. Actually, there are about 240 names (120 that were given to them at birth and 120 that they picked 4 months ago) that bring me absolute bliss. This overwhelming happiness I have found is with the 6th grade class of BukDaegu Elementary school. This is the most simple, caring and heartwarming relationship I have been in and I am sad that it has to come to an end in 4 short weeks.
Having been a teacher before I know how the game is played. You just cannot help but find a few special students that you click with and then share an extra tight bond with them. The first year of teaching this came in three forms- a set of 8th grade twins from Cuba who I absolutely adored and treated as younger brothers. A 7th grade scrawny little punk who I wanted to adopt and raise "right". The last was a 4th grader who had such an incredibly hard time with anything school related but erupted daily with a bright laugh and a cup-full outlook on life that it was impossible to think a negative thougth about him.
The second year was same same but different, I had strong bonds with a few of my students, and ofcourse I loved them dearly, but the passion wasnt quite as overwhelming as the first year. So now, to my surprise, I have a "first year" romance all over again, and I am quite smitten. The difference in Korea is the quantity of students who I have become close with. The sheer number of warm smiles and hellos I receive in a given day outnumers the good times I had at Bici by a thousand. And the quality is different too. There is more innocence in these kids. There is also a million times more respect and they are grateful for my presence, which makes me work harder to compile educational yet fun lessons. Its really a win-win all around.
Last Wednesday something spectacular happened. My birthday party was attended not only by my brother, who flew from the states to see me, but also 100 of my closest 6th grade buddies. We played games, shouted, ran around, ate lollipops, and took pictures of my brother. The energy in the auditorium was positive beyond my expectations. I could not have been happier or more grateful at that time. Everything I love- brother, students, co-teacher together in one place having fun. It was a thrill for me to watch their faces and hear their excitement as they interacted with Olen. It was like a love potion that kept working it's magic long after we cleaned up the balloons and happy birthday sign, they had all written me small cards and some had brough small trinkets as gifts. Those gestures took the day to another level and I spent an hour in my room reading their notes and sometimes breaking out in laughter though more frequently shedding tears of gratefulness.
The love did not stop there, I met with some of the most amazing people later in the night for delicious soju and then a round of beer. Afterwards, I third wheeled it with my brother and his girlfriend at three daegu favorites- MK Club, G2 and Pasha. In all, my 24th birthday was indeed golden and filled with an incredible amount of love. I am so thankful that I have all the people in my life who made that day so special.
Now back to the love story. I do not think that the special relationship can be completely explained by the fact that the 6th graders and I were born 12 years apart- making us part of the same star sign. But I think the rational of my co-teacher is somewhat valid in the sense that there is a mystical essence about this group that makes the relationship so easy. I also treasure its fragileness because there are few moments in life when you can re-live your first romance and since I am finding that special "first year teacher" love again for the second time I know its true value.
Again, I love love love what I do and I love love love the people who I do it with and that may make me the most love infused person in the world.
Thank you.
The object of my relentless love does not have a name. Actually, there are about 240 names (120 that were given to them at birth and 120 that they picked 4 months ago) that bring me absolute bliss. This overwhelming happiness I have found is with the 6th grade class of BukDaegu Elementary school. This is the most simple, caring and heartwarming relationship I have been in and I am sad that it has to come to an end in 4 short weeks.
Having been a teacher before I know how the game is played. You just cannot help but find a few special students that you click with and then share an extra tight bond with them. The first year of teaching this came in three forms- a set of 8th grade twins from Cuba who I absolutely adored and treated as younger brothers. A 7th grade scrawny little punk who I wanted to adopt and raise "right". The last was a 4th grader who had such an incredibly hard time with anything school related but erupted daily with a bright laugh and a cup-full outlook on life that it was impossible to think a negative thougth about him.
The second year was same same but different, I had strong bonds with a few of my students, and ofcourse I loved them dearly, but the passion wasnt quite as overwhelming as the first year. So now, to my surprise, I have a "first year" romance all over again, and I am quite smitten. The difference in Korea is the quantity of students who I have become close with. The sheer number of warm smiles and hellos I receive in a given day outnumers the good times I had at Bici by a thousand. And the quality is different too. There is more innocence in these kids. There is also a million times more respect and they are grateful for my presence, which makes me work harder to compile educational yet fun lessons. Its really a win-win all around.
Last Wednesday something spectacular happened. My birthday party was attended not only by my brother, who flew from the states to see me, but also 100 of my closest 6th grade buddies. We played games, shouted, ran around, ate lollipops, and took pictures of my brother. The energy in the auditorium was positive beyond my expectations. I could not have been happier or more grateful at that time. Everything I love- brother, students, co-teacher together in one place having fun. It was a thrill for me to watch their faces and hear their excitement as they interacted with Olen. It was like a love potion that kept working it's magic long after we cleaned up the balloons and happy birthday sign, they had all written me small cards and some had brough small trinkets as gifts. Those gestures took the day to another level and I spent an hour in my room reading their notes and sometimes breaking out in laughter though more frequently shedding tears of gratefulness.
The love did not stop there, I met with some of the most amazing people later in the night for delicious soju and then a round of beer. Afterwards, I third wheeled it with my brother and his girlfriend at three daegu favorites- MK Club, G2 and Pasha. In all, my 24th birthday was indeed golden and filled with an incredible amount of love. I am so thankful that I have all the people in my life who made that day so special.
Now back to the love story. I do not think that the special relationship can be completely explained by the fact that the 6th graders and I were born 12 years apart- making us part of the same star sign. But I think the rational of my co-teacher is somewhat valid in the sense that there is a mystical essence about this group that makes the relationship so easy. I also treasure its fragileness because there are few moments in life when you can re-live your first romance and since I am finding that special "first year teacher" love again for the second time I know its true value.
Again, I love love love what I do and I love love love the people who I do it with and that may make me the most love infused person in the world.
Thank you.
novels in 25 words.
1. The name is Pat. Body and face are worthless clues. Other playground mothers wonder, "Is it a boy or a girl."
2. Unwrapping the bandages unveils a sinking feeling. Cup size may change, but the self-loathing cannot be removed with a skilled hand wielding a surgeon's knife.
3. The fingers and toes were much smaller than she expected. Incredibly real, she could see the thumbprint, throbbing red. She quickly closed the lid.
4. He came home to a smashed windshield and his personal possessions littering the sidewalk. The watch was stopped at 12:53, indicating when she found out.
2. Unwrapping the bandages unveils a sinking feeling. Cup size may change, but the self-loathing cannot be removed with a skilled hand wielding a surgeon's knife.
3. The fingers and toes were much smaller than she expected. Incredibly real, she could see the thumbprint, throbbing red. She quickly closed the lid.
4. He came home to a smashed windshield and his personal possessions littering the sidewalk. The watch was stopped at 12:53, indicating when she found out.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Shoe tying manual for three year olds.
There is one thing you should know…and that is how to tie a pair of shoes.
1.The first and possibly trickiest part is to actually determine which shoe will be placed upon each foot. A good trick for those who struggle with this task is to look for the portion of the shoe that is slightly rounder and taller than the rest of the shoe and slip the big toe into the shoe so it aligns with this special cavity in a way that the big toe sits comfortably inside.
2. Next is a step that is rarely mentioned. It is the tightening of the laces so the foot inside the shoe is left with no wiggle room. Encase the foot inside the shoe as an ancient Egyptian would embalm a mummy in yards of linen. Do not use resin however to permanently attach the foot to the shoe as you will at some point want to take it off. Just grasp the laces, one in each hand, and pull towards your body. Be sure to keep a firm grip on the laces as you pull to avoid a black eye. This is a common side effect of shoe tying. It is the result of an over exuberant yank that releases the laces and propels the arm into the eye socket with uncharted and unexpected momentum.
3. When the foot is snug inside the shoe you will want to cross the laces across the top of the shoe. Take care to make this a symmetrical and precise cross. Some have invested in a protractor to insure the angle of the cross is at exactly 90 degrees. Also be sure that half of the remaining shoe lace is on one side and the other half is on another. Anything less will result in a shoe that is not fit to walk in.
4. Once perfect equilibrium is restored in the shoe lace department you may begin to tuck one end of the string underneath the cross and pull it securely through. In most cases the right side is favored to make the journey underneath the cross. However, if you happen to enjoy taking walks on the wild side do attempt to pull the left side of the shoe lace string through. CAUTION: the world may end.
5. If you have successfully pulled either side of the shoe string underneath the cross and the apocalypse was not triggered, you may continue on to the next step and tighten the strings once again. The grip should be as tight as the one you administered in step 2, however now you will be pulling to the sides of your body. In this case, it is wise to steer clear of the groins of those around you as they may be injured should your hand slip from the shoe lace and uncontrollably swing upwards.
6. When finished tightening form “bunny ears” with the shoe laces on either side of the show. Cross the bunny ears and loop one through the inside and then tighten. This part is easy so no further explanation is necessary.
7. Congratulate yourself, you are finished.
Without this most basic of skills you cannot move about in life. You will be unable to stroll through a maple syrup colored pile of leaves while your grandson kicks them up and then comes crashing down on them with both feet. You cannot stand on the podium and deliver your acceptance speech as mayor. Without tied shoes, no one will be able to dance at your wedding and you would not have been able to chase down the thief who stole the purse of off the shoulder of the lady who you will eventually marry. Kicking the soccer ball into the top right corner of the net will also prove impossible, thus so would winning that State Soccer Championship. It is difficult to enjoy the submarine dive that a laced up boot makes into a freshly laid pile of snow, without a laced up boot. And how are you supposed to attempt your first walk down the steps of your apartment building without holding your mother’s hand if you shoelaces are wobbling about untied? So little three year old, work on this skill. On the surface it may seem trivial and trite…but as you see, if there is only one thing that you need to know, it is how to tie a pair of shoes.
1.The first and possibly trickiest part is to actually determine which shoe will be placed upon each foot. A good trick for those who struggle with this task is to look for the portion of the shoe that is slightly rounder and taller than the rest of the shoe and slip the big toe into the shoe so it aligns with this special cavity in a way that the big toe sits comfortably inside.
2. Next is a step that is rarely mentioned. It is the tightening of the laces so the foot inside the shoe is left with no wiggle room. Encase the foot inside the shoe as an ancient Egyptian would embalm a mummy in yards of linen. Do not use resin however to permanently attach the foot to the shoe as you will at some point want to take it off. Just grasp the laces, one in each hand, and pull towards your body. Be sure to keep a firm grip on the laces as you pull to avoid a black eye. This is a common side effect of shoe tying. It is the result of an over exuberant yank that releases the laces and propels the arm into the eye socket with uncharted and unexpected momentum.
3. When the foot is snug inside the shoe you will want to cross the laces across the top of the shoe. Take care to make this a symmetrical and precise cross. Some have invested in a protractor to insure the angle of the cross is at exactly 90 degrees. Also be sure that half of the remaining shoe lace is on one side and the other half is on another. Anything less will result in a shoe that is not fit to walk in.
4. Once perfect equilibrium is restored in the shoe lace department you may begin to tuck one end of the string underneath the cross and pull it securely through. In most cases the right side is favored to make the journey underneath the cross. However, if you happen to enjoy taking walks on the wild side do attempt to pull the left side of the shoe lace string through. CAUTION: the world may end.
5. If you have successfully pulled either side of the shoe string underneath the cross and the apocalypse was not triggered, you may continue on to the next step and tighten the strings once again. The grip should be as tight as the one you administered in step 2, however now you will be pulling to the sides of your body. In this case, it is wise to steer clear of the groins of those around you as they may be injured should your hand slip from the shoe lace and uncontrollably swing upwards.
6. When finished tightening form “bunny ears” with the shoe laces on either side of the show. Cross the bunny ears and loop one through the inside and then tighten. This part is easy so no further explanation is necessary.
7. Congratulate yourself, you are finished.
Without this most basic of skills you cannot move about in life. You will be unable to stroll through a maple syrup colored pile of leaves while your grandson kicks them up and then comes crashing down on them with both feet. You cannot stand on the podium and deliver your acceptance speech as mayor. Without tied shoes, no one will be able to dance at your wedding and you would not have been able to chase down the thief who stole the purse of off the shoulder of the lady who you will eventually marry. Kicking the soccer ball into the top right corner of the net will also prove impossible, thus so would winning that State Soccer Championship. It is difficult to enjoy the submarine dive that a laced up boot makes into a freshly laid pile of snow, without a laced up boot. And how are you supposed to attempt your first walk down the steps of your apartment building without holding your mother’s hand if you shoelaces are wobbling about untied? So little three year old, work on this skill. On the surface it may seem trivial and trite…but as you see, if there is only one thing that you need to know, it is how to tie a pair of shoes.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Run like the wind...or like Captain Picard
So I will admit that one of the most guilty and nerd-alerting pleasures I had as a child was watching Star Trek with my family. I was all about The Next Generation. Data was certainly the most interesting character and I had a crush on the young dude who's mom was the ship doctor...his name escapes me at the moment but the love still burns deep.
Thus it is no surprise that when I saw a Star Trek book laying on my father's side of the bed when I was in say 8th grade I picked that sucker up and starting indulging in a story about a young Captain Picard who was full of teen angst and contemplation. In the book, some of the best narratives were from when the man with the shiniest head is show business was running through his native country of France and looking around the countryside. I explicitly remember a line that made me feel like I could never be as cool as cap' because he talked about a sudden re-surgance of power, a rejuvination of sorts when he passed a certain physical barrier while running. There was a point he described when the soreness and the aching was gone and the body the ran on a fuel other than calories.
This was such an inspiring piece because I wanted very much to have the wisdom, boldness and charisma that the captain carries himself with. I saw the difference between himself and me being his ability to push through and run past that magical point when the pain of the run went away. Seeing that I had always had a mental block that stopped me from running, self-sabotaging myself whenever I came to a certain point, always allowing myself to quit before I really got anywhere I felt like attaining that point in running was not in my deck of cards. I thought that I would continue this love-hate relationship with running until I literally ran out of time.
Fortunately, today, I proved to myself that it is not so. I somehow managed to unclog all the self-administered blockades and just run run run. I was surprised that I got to 38 minutes, and then, the magical moment hit. My lungs were fine, not on fire like I expected them to be. My legs, well, they were sore, but they didn't feel like stopping, my legs wanted to run. Any my arms, they were also content at pumping away for what seemed like could turn into eternity. I was actually quite shocked at this revelation, so I kept on going. I ran for an hour. I did not think I could ever say that sentence and not be playing two truths and a lie. But upon reaching that magical point that I had read about in a Star Trek book so long ago I found that I could indeed be like Captain Picard. I think I will apply to Starfleet Academy in the morning. :)
Thus it is no surprise that when I saw a Star Trek book laying on my father's side of the bed when I was in say 8th grade I picked that sucker up and starting indulging in a story about a young Captain Picard who was full of teen angst and contemplation. In the book, some of the best narratives were from when the man with the shiniest head is show business was running through his native country of France and looking around the countryside. I explicitly remember a line that made me feel like I could never be as cool as cap' because he talked about a sudden re-surgance of power, a rejuvination of sorts when he passed a certain physical barrier while running. There was a point he described when the soreness and the aching was gone and the body the ran on a fuel other than calories.
This was such an inspiring piece because I wanted very much to have the wisdom, boldness and charisma that the captain carries himself with. I saw the difference between himself and me being his ability to push through and run past that magical point when the pain of the run went away. Seeing that I had always had a mental block that stopped me from running, self-sabotaging myself whenever I came to a certain point, always allowing myself to quit before I really got anywhere I felt like attaining that point in running was not in my deck of cards. I thought that I would continue this love-hate relationship with running until I literally ran out of time.
Fortunately, today, I proved to myself that it is not so. I somehow managed to unclog all the self-administered blockades and just run run run. I was surprised that I got to 38 minutes, and then, the magical moment hit. My lungs were fine, not on fire like I expected them to be. My legs, well, they were sore, but they didn't feel like stopping, my legs wanted to run. Any my arms, they were also content at pumping away for what seemed like could turn into eternity. I was actually quite shocked at this revelation, so I kept on going. I ran for an hour. I did not think I could ever say that sentence and not be playing two truths and a lie. But upon reaching that magical point that I had read about in a Star Trek book so long ago I found that I could indeed be like Captain Picard. I think I will apply to Starfleet Academy in the morning. :)
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