Stupid Selfish People Ruining Children

So can anyone answer me this simple question?

WHY DO PEOPLE TAKE THEIR INFANTS AND YOUNG CHILDREN TO VIOLENT MOVIES OR, FOR THAT MATTER, MOVIES AT ALL?????

I will tell you why. They are selfish and stupid. They have no concern for the welfare of their children on an emotional, moral, or physical level.

First off, the young ears of infants probably shouldn't be exposed to those kinds of decibels.
Secondly, the young eyes of young children sitting on their parent's laps shouldn't be exposed to blood splattering a movie screen, or violent sex, or guns and violence. Seriously, has anyone done a study to see what these types of images do to a young kid's brain? Just because you haven't fully developed your cognitive state or your long-term memory, that doesn't mean it has no affect.
Thirdly, you horrible people are ruining the movie going experience for the rest of us. I don't blame the child who begins to scream in terror upon seeing the horse cut into pieces during "The Cell." I don't blame the infant who cries when the machine guns rip through a car door in "Unleashed." And I certainly don't blame the child who continuously cries "Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy" ad nauseum because you, daddy, are not paying attention to him.

There is no reason to have a child in a movie theater younger than, say, six years old. That would be reasonable, I think. And if you find that your individual child can't take it, then you should adjust that time frame until they can.

Worst of all, though, you are teaching your children that personal gratification is more important than the needs of others. You don't need to go to the movies, you are just selfish and want to. And you can't find a sitter, so why not plop down your youngin' and expose them to gore. Yeah, that's a good idea.

You people make me angry.

That is all.

San Diego, City of my Dreams...and Quiz

American Cities That Best Fit You:

65% Honolulu

65% Seattle

60% Austin

60% Portland

60% San Diego

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

Seeing as how I already live here, I will take San Diego. (Though Honolulu sounds fun.)

My Arms Hurt

The tournament was exhausting. Ten times more so than last year. Partially because of the extra events, and partially because instead of no contact sparring, it was LOTS OF CONTACT sparring, which takes more out of you. I didn't medal this year, but I did get through everything, which was my main goal, truthfully. I am sad to have not contributed points to my team, but I think I know what I can put myself through and still come out on the other side. Next year should be much better, especially since I start training for next year tonight at 6:30.

Thanks to Wamez, JQ, and SPF for attending. I had fun. Of course, my arms still hurt.

Limit

Last night I went to my last sparring class before the tournament. Seeing as how we are very big on preparation at this school, I anticipated that many people would be there. Imagine my surprise when it was just Ms. E and myself. Two people for an HOUR of sparring drills.

There is not a possible way that I can explain the intensity of last night. It was the most exhausting, sweaty, draining, and incredibly painful experience that I have ever had. It is amazing, however, that you can have no energy, have no more push left, and still find some. Your mind can actually force your body to such extremes that you probably actually could run yourself to death.

There is a Gatorade commercial airing right now that shows this triathlete at the end of his marathon pushing himself so far that his body actually short circuits. It is the craziest thing I have ever seen. One minute he is running (not walking, running) and then he just stutters in his step and falls backwards shaking intensely.

I am not proclaiming to have driven myself that far last night, but I can tell you that I drove myself harder than I ever had for the entire hour and the SECOND that we closed class, both Ms. E and I LITERALLY collapsed onto the ground. If I had had the state of mind, and the sense of humor, I would have made a sweat angel on the mat. As it were, there was just a sweat corpse.

At the end of my last bag work, I was so intensely drained that I couldn't lift my 8oz. gloves. I just couldn't do it. And then Ms. E told me to push through to the end and I saw, rather than commanded, my arms flying into the bag for the last ten seconds which, I might add, was the LONGEST TEN SECONDS OF MY LIFE!!!

I still can't lift my left arm all the way, and typing is a challenge, but it is a very good sore.

Tourney

The Kung Fu Tournament is this weekend. I will be performing Green Sash Techniques, Quan Qu Siu Sup Gee, and Double Dagger Form. I will then be sparring for a minimum of two minutes. It will be longer only if I win the first round, which is tremendously unlikely, but I suppose you never know.

I am terrified of this tournament.

It is an all day event.

I have only one thing to look forward to, and that is the dinner after the tournament with instructors and students. It is an amazing moment of comraderie. Next to my wedding and honeymoon, I think that dinner last year was one of my happiest moments. You know the types of moments that you recognize while they are still happening and wish that they would never end? It is that type of moment. It is a great moment.

I am looking forward to that moment.

Hi

So our great city has decided to contribute $900,000.00 to the construction of a ten foot retaining wall along the landslide. Reason? It will protect their road (which has buckled at least five feet at this point.) Benefit? It will restore solid ground to our complex so that we can rebuild!!!

Construction is slated to start next week, but they have already fenced off The Pit and it looks all ready for construction and everything.

Moody

I am in a writing mood. That might actually be a good sign, even though I am at work and should probably DO work.

I actually behave REALLY WELL when at my new job. (In terms of not screwing around.) I don't have time to screw around, but now I am in a lull moment and if I work right now, I won't have anything for the next four hours that I have to be here, so a couple of blogs later, I will be in a better position to stretch my workload out for the rest of the day.

It is going to make Monday yucky, though. I hate not having work to do. I hate being idle. All of my projects right now are waiting on other people, so I might just have to start bothering other people. That sounds fun.

Nice Blogger

Blogger does not recognize the spelling for "ineptitude." Maybe that is blogger's way of trying to make people feel better about themselves. If you can't say that you have unparalleled ineptitude, then maybe you will think that you are not so inept after all.

Ironically, I was adept enough to go to Merriam Webster's and look it up.

I spelled it right.

Blogger also does not recognize the spelling for "Blogger."

Blahg

I am finding I have lost my focus. I think the extended stress of the house, losing my childhood belongings, starting a new job, and sucking at Kung Fu is starting to take its toll.

I find it hard to do things that used to come easily to me. Kung fu has become difficult (and humiliating). My piano has a vendetta against me. My job expects more of me than I can deliver. Writing is right out.

This combination of ineptitude and lack of contribution to the world is making me even sadder. I feel very blah. Blah blah blah.

I need my focus back, but I am not sure that I can get that without correcting the problems at hand.

SPF keeps asking me what I can have control over, what I can affect change in, and I don't see anything. Without focus, I can't become better at Kung Fu, or any of those other things that make me happy. So without focus I have no control, but I don't seem to have any control over my focus. It is a Catch 22.

Yoga would help that. But I don' have time or money for yoga. Tai Chi (which I have already paid for) would help, but I am afraid of it because it is in the same place as Kung Fu, and that place is humiliating to me now. (Don't ask.)

CRAZY MAKING!!!

BLAH!!!

Phones

We may not have a land line for the rest of the week due to construction. If you need to contact either SPF or I, use our cell phones.

If you don't have our cell phone numbers, then you probably shouldn't be calling us.

We don't know you.

Stop reading this.

You are a STRANGER!!!

Amanda of the D'Ubervilles

I am beginning to feel like a tragic novel.

This weekend SPF and I went to retrieve some of our stored belongings that we had removed from the condo in fear that it would collapse. These would be items that we wanted to be sure were safe, so we pulled them out of danger and stuffed them securely in a concrete safehouse.

When we walked into the building, I first noticed that there were long, leaky cracks in the floor that had been solid concrete. Everything after that is as if in a bad dream.

Water was pooled in front of our storage unit. When opened, at least 60% of the floor was covered in water and those precious belongings - boxes containing my childhood memories, drawings, pictures, journals, letters and birthday cards, toys, and clothing - were sagging and rotting in the brackish water.

We carefully extracted the decrepit boxes and carted them home, after SPF yelled at the man running the storage unit and got nothing out of him. I closed our account.

We spent the next several hours trying to save what we could, but something like 2/3rds of it was damaged beyond saving. We painstakingly separated soaking papers to try and save stories and journals that I had written in my childhood and through high school. My negatives of my trip to Italy were destroyed, but we pulled them apart and dried them out anyways. It's harder to let go of some things than others.

My astronomy notes from college were protected, but poetry I had tried to so carefully protect became a catalyst to destroy everything it touched, having been written in pure ink that bled into every paper, envelope, novel, and t-shirt in its near vicinity. The pages themselves we spread out all over our kitchen, but they are illegible, excepting a word or two, or perhaps a phrase out of context. I do not remember what they were.

The stuffed bear that my grandmother gave me before she died has molded and made SPF sick when he tried to salvage it. My grades and comments from high school and college have bled into each other, but some of them we were able to dry out and keep.

I go back and forth between moving on and being thankful of everything that we still have, and weeping because I don't know what I have done to the universe to deserve these repetitive injuries.

If you are wondering why I would write all of this down, it is because I am sure that you will find out, and as much as I want to tell you, to apologize for somehow not being careful enough, I can't. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to be sad anymore. I am dehydrated and tired.

So now you know.