I went to the dance studio for the first time since prom last night, and it seems I went at the right time, because it was salsa-chacha night, and omg, I love salsa, and I adore chacha.

Christine was my dance partner the entire first half of the evening, since she knows how to lead and we're eternally short of men.

Throughout the night, I danced more with Christine, Nate, Jose, Dave and some dude I don't even know, but gave me the dance of my life through chacha - - he was throwing in stuff I didn't even know!

Nate nabbed me for a dance club, our studio's own dance, which I hadn't done in over a year, and I think I followed really well.  I do love that dance, but he insisted on plastering me up against him for half the moves.  Ack!

I plan to start taking the Thursday classes next month.  I'll just have to tell my boss that I'm not regularly scheduled for Thursdays, and there's no way I can work.  That way, I can go to karate at 7:00, but then at 7:45-8:00 I have to get the heck out of there, 'cause dance starts at 8:15.  It'll make for a busy Thursday evening, but it'll make me happy, and I'll learn to tango!

I love dancing.  Have I mentioned that?  Specifically, I love the chacha.  Almost nothing can distract me away from the chacha once I'm out owning the ballroom floor.  So my hips don't move in a latin fashion (I'm self-conscious enough about my booty without making it more noticeable, thanks,) but it's my favorite, and the boysknow that when that music comes on, somebody'd better grab my hand, lest I become testy.

So my good friend, whom I will call Mr. N, grabbed my hand first.  He led me out to the farthest corner of the floor, where he continued to lead me not only in the basics, but also the things I had never been taught formally.  He commented, "Somebody's been practicing their chacha!"

Of course, being at college for about 8 months, I hadn't beyond my few scattered visits to the studio.  I told him, "Not really, I'm just a natural."  

He laughed and replied, "Could be all that karate." 

Honestly, I'm not sure what exactly karate has to do with dance, beyond the fact that in order to 'get' the chacha spins I had to think "Nunchaku turn, 360 degrees!!"  I may, in fact, be a dork.

He likes to 'overdance' me, but that's okay.  It's kind of like doing a kata 5 belts off - - you may not get it now, but with continued persistence, you'll eventually WOW yourself....and in this case your dancing partner, who will be absolutely astounded that you kept up (you should have seen his eyes pop out of his head when I followed the weird turn-y thing he did.) 

Last night was also our anti-prom.  See, in 2006, all the graduating seniors decided they didn't want to even bother with the real prom our school offered, and instead set up our own at the dance studio.  We went all out.  We had tablecloths, goblets ($1 at the Dollar Store,) sparkling grape juice, and we all dressed up.  Well, we decided to do this again - - it's now a tradition.  We'll be 80-year-olds and we'll still have our own prom, damn it!

All the adults were suprised to see us in such fashion, and Mr. D (the dance instructor,) described us as "the mob scene," when he explained why we were all so absurdly formal-like.  Everyone made sure to complement us on our dresses, and they, once again, loved it that we wanted to have our little prom at the dance studio.

Aren't you supposed to dance at a prom?  I don't know if I count what you do at the 'real' proms as dancing. 

It was great.  It was like a reunion, as most of us hadn't been together for almost a year.  I'm so excited to see my real friends again.

First off, don't get me wrong.  I love kids.  Kids are great.  The problem is that last night at the dojo I had to work with one.

Despite having helped Mrs. A with the Lil' Dragons program, I still don't know how to work with kids.  They're like fine china - - don't give one to me because, OMG, I might break it.

I can handle working with just about anybody else, even people who need me to be more gentle or patient or whatever; older autistic kids I can give my patience.  Pregnant women I can be more gentle with, but little kids....can I pass here?

There are two kids especially I don't want to work with.  Those are Big I and Princess (Mr. and Mrs. A's daughter,) because if I do break one, I'll have very pissed of parents who could probably kick my sorry butt.

Jerry Falwell died recently - - you can't have missed it as the general media's been having a field day.

One thing that, perhaps, you didn't know is that the Westboro Baptist Church plans on picketing his funeral.  http://www.godhatesfags.com/fliers/may2007/20070515_jerry-falwell-funeral.pdf 

While I may not agree with Mr. Falwell's theological or political views, I also believe that in a person's death he or she should be shown just as much, if not more respect in comparison with his or her life.  Funerals are not only for the now dead individual (if you imbue a funeral with any religious significance,) but also a service for the family, friends and other relations.  It is a custom which allows for a formal and communal mourning to take place.  This is especially important in this society, which tends to downplay the mourning process to an unhealthy digree.

The fact that these people would infringe upon such an important social institution is disgusting.  That they would spread their toxic gospel or dare to call it a "love crusade" is even more abhorrent.

May Mr. Falwell rest in peace and may his family and friends be given the courtesy to mourn in their own peace.

 ++++

I think the thing that scares me the most about Westboro Baptist Church is that I sometimes wonder if they are the truest representation of Christianity.  If it really is, then I'd be more than happy to worship other gods - - gods who may be angry, wrathful and harsh at times, but gods who don't hate the world they created (in mythology, they themselves are  often creations of the universe themselves,)  and who don't send people to hell to glorify themselves. 

There's just something really, really, REALLY wrong with a god who would do that.  In my mind, a perfect being, the supposed "alpha and omega" wouldn't find it necessary.  I cannot accept a god so lacking in compassion or understanding for his created.  Billions of people roasting in a hell for all eternity is not glorifying in the least - - it is shameful and a sign of selfishness and vanity...but wait...aren't those sins?  Hmm....can a perfect being sin?  I'll leave it up to my audience.

Furthermore, if that is the god of creation, I will not bow down to that god.  That god is a spoiled, selfish, rotten, hate-filled monster undeserving of my worship. 

The Westboro Baptist Church says that Americans hate god - - I think Americans hate and fear their god, because (I believe,) for the most part, Americans are good, moral, love-thy-neighbor-as-thyself type people, Christian or not, and cannot fathom or comprehend a god so completely contradictory to their values.

Their god is at the very least sociopathic.

If, one day, I stand before their god and he condemns me to hell, then to hell I will go joyfully.  Why would I want to spend eternity in "heaven" with such a monster and his hateful children, when I could spend eternity in "hell" with the kind, loving people he would condemn?

1.  What's the most important thing you learned on your way to Shodan?

 I think the most important thing I learned was actually a quote from Mr. A.  He said, "The biggest difference between a white belt and a black belt is that the white belt thinks he has to be perfect; the black belt knows he's not," or something like that.  Either way, that's the form in which it got stuck in my head.

A lot of the time, I beat myself up because I'm not doing things perfectly, because I mess up, and this isn't all just in karate.  I get mad at myself for messing up all kinds of things.  Maybe I didn't say something just right, or react in the ideal manner.  Maybe I didn't spin in that chacha in time...it doesn't matter; I'm always telling myself how stupid I am for doing _____________.  And then I'll dwell on it for a good 2 years.

Sometimes, I'll even remember that quote and calm down a bit and remember that even the people you look up to aren't perfect, and when you get to the point where most people think you've reached the top....you still aren't perfect.  I'll never be perfect, and while I know that intellectually, I have yet to internalize it.  Maybe some day! 

My best friend is LDS (Latter Day Saint; Mormon,) and I agreed to visit her church with her one Sunday morning, not having had a church loyalty at the time and ever being curious about the beliefs of my friends. 

The building was plain...extremely plain, most certainly not as pretty as my high-church-inclined self would like, but it was a church, nonetheless.  We sat in pews and most people were chatting quietly before the service (led by the people themselves, btw.  A different member of the congregation gives the sermon each week.)  My friend took out her Book of Mormon and began reading.  I, not particularly fond of the Bible and even less fond of the BoM (the Bible can be viewed, if not as divine revelation or as an insight into God from the ancient Hebrews then at least as a historical mythological text; the Book of Mormon is more like a book of tall tales in my mind,) observed the people.

And boy, were there plenty of them.  I'm not sure who likes church more, Catholics or LDS (they don't like being called Mormons.)

I can't remember a lot of the service, really not much of interest.  A woman talked about the importance of Scripture (The Bible, KJV version only, The Book of Mormon, The Pearl of Great Price, etc,) and young boys blessed "The Sacrament," which they passed around in dishes with tiny "shot glasses" of water.  My friend assured me that it was okay for me to partake, that they only believed it was water and bread.  I denied it, being theologically at odds with The Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints; if I wouldn't partake in a Catholic church, why should I in an LDS one?  Something just seemed plain wrong about it.

Afterwards, they had little classrooms where everyone would go.  Some to study the OT, a class for men, etc. and one for newcomers.  And that's where they ushered me.

There were two young guys, think 19-22 leading a class of would-be-Mormons.  Today the discussion was about Prophets...and here's where it got ridiculous and hilarious.

The 19-22-year-old-guys were "Elders" also known as Missionaries.  They're the guys who show up on your doorstep and try to share their faith with you.  If two of 'em show up at your door, play nice - - if they don't do it, their church will condemn them and their family will be shamed.  They're expected to do it.  If you slam your door on them, make sure their noses won't get bloodied in the process.

The topic of the day was "How do we know Joseph Smith was a prophet of God?"  Their 'proof' involved the following:  We know Abraham is a prophet of God because he followed God.  We know Moses was a prophet of God because he parted the sea, etc. etc.  We know Joseph Smith is a prophet of God because he translated the Book of Mormon.

They had a weird language version of the BoM with, which they had us all "attempt" to read, which they used as further "proof."  Absolutely ridiculous.

First off, you'd have to get me proof that any of the previous prophets did what they Bible claims they did.  Second, you'd have to prove to me that Joseph Smith didn't BS the BoM.  So, he wrote a book.  Big deal.  That doesn't mean he's a prophet, it means he suckered all you fools into believing him - - that was his biggest effing trick.

I wonder how they aren't Muslim, 'cause the same arguement would work there, too.  "How did Mohammed get the Koran?  God had an angel dictate it to him, therefor we know he's a prophet."

Good job.  It's still silly, and it still makes me laugh inside.  Seriously.  Funniest BS ever.  But you know, I could just be an elitist bitch.  It's very possible.

Mr. A's talking about second degree again and I don't know what to say.  I think the easiest answer regarding my feelings on whether or not I'm going to test for second degree is, "It's complicated."

I'm not going to go into detail regarding my experience testing for black belt - - that would be rude, but suffice it to say that it wasn't exactly a great experience.  It left me not just with a black belt, but with a feeling of deep, simmering inadequacy, like I didn't really deserve what I got, but I had been given it, anyway.  The whole thing left a bitter taste in my mouth, and less than a year later, it's just as disgusting.

Now, I've always had an inferiority complex - - I was going to leave testing feeling like I didn't deserve the rank or like I hadn't done as well as other testees either way, but the whole scenerio stripped me of absolutely any pride I could feel in being a black belt.  For days after, people would ask me how I felt about my new rank and all I could do was shrug.  They would chide me a bit about it, but it didn't make me feel any better - - the damage had been done.

So, how do I feel about testing for second degree?  It's not entirely a question of when I will test, rather of whether or not I even intend to. 

I feel as if I'm a mediocre martial artist at best - - as I already mentioned, I feel as if my rank was given and not earned.  It's been 9 months of on-and-off training since I went to college, so I'm more than a little out of practice.  Any abilities I may have had in July of 2006 have most certainly fizzled; it would be nothing short of a miracle to regain them in the 8 weeks I would have to prepare, assuming I intended to test.

And what does second degree mean, anyway?  The further development of my martial arts capabilities, yes?  In 8 weeks I may be able to re-learn how to do all my kata up to standard for the first degree test (even that's pushing it!) and learn the two open-hand and three weapons katas I would need.  I may be able to develop decent bunkai if I cram enough..but that's all it would be.  I would have crammed for my second degree black belt.  What the hell is that?

I may or may not cram for college exams (I'm not admitting to anything, you can't make me!) but somehow it would feel wrong to cram for this, especially considering the markedly bad attitude displayed the year previous.

To begin with, testing in only one year after that fiasco, I would think that those who are the-powers-that-be would react as if those of us testing in that small time-frame were rushing it.  If I crammed and it showed, which is likely, wouldn't that merely solidify in their minds that I didn't really deserve that first degree, much less convince them of my deserving of a second degree?  Showing my face again this year would most likely be disastrous.

So, if I don't test this summer, I could probably work all summer on whatever material I would need for second degree.  And then, at the end of August, I'm going back to college.  Winter camp is probably about 4-6 months later, during which time I wouldn't be home enough to have my material fixed and tweaked.  No way in hell am I testing then.

Two months after that I return home in the same mess I am now.- - out of practice, just praying I didn't forget most of my weapons kata.  Two months after *that* is summer testing again.  Oh, boy, what to do?  At least this time I wouldn't look too gutsy. 

And then there's the option of never testing again.  This option is the most self-preservational.  There are certain people I heartily wish to never see again; testing would require me to be in their presence for a minimum of 3 days.

Does that make me a coward?  Probably.  Am I okay with that?  Yep.

Writing that paper on the differences between Aset and Isis has really thrown me.  Lately, I've been pretty apathetic about the gods; I haven't been studying or researching like I normally do, probably because I'm not sure which mythology to study.

Currently, I'm very interested in studying the Mysteries.  It's not a topic I've ever been too keen on before, despite the fact that I know a guy who ranted and raved about them for months (soon as he was done with Nietzche, that is.  He's now moved on to post-modernism.)  During my research on Isis, however, I stumbled once more upon the mysteries; this time I found myself a bit more enchanted than before, particularly with Kybele and Dionysus.

I plan to read "Conceptions of God in Ancient Egypt: The One and the Many."  Maybe before this I should finish "Dionysus: Myth and Cult," considering the library will want it back within the next two weeks.

I've come to realize in my one year at college that my abstinance from all questionable activities has placed me in a rather interesting positition.  Because I do not participate in these activities, I'm the one everyone seems to come to in their various states of inebriation.

Drunk or high, sick or emotionally disgraught, my room seems to be the place to go for water, food, medication (I can get this free from security,) vitamin C pills (which I shove down infected peoples' throats,) or a shoulder to cry on.  Sometimes, they show up in combinations of the above.

While I've not mastered the fine art of keeping drunk people in their beds or away from security guards, most of my friends have come to the conclusion that my room is "safe" and I am a "mama bear."  Those are direct quotes from my friends. 

I didn't necessarily intend to play this role, but it seems I've slipped into it rather easily.  Gods, I just hope I do more good than harm, and I hope I don't let anybody down.