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An update to this blog was requested by this drop-dead gorgeous girl that I know, and I really can't help myself when it comes to that kind of thing. So again, I find myself writing a blog just because she told me to. It's a wonderful system; in fact, I highly reccomend it.

Life goes on as usual; I shall be finished with school soon, and then I shall begin my packing. I realized that I have exactly three weeks as of today until I leave. Next Tuesday I go to Iara's athletic banquet; the Tuesday after that will be the end-of-year party at youth; the Tuesday after that, I will have left. The thought of it sort of mellows me out; sometimes I am simply overwhelmed with nostalgia as I walk the familiar routes to the store, to a friend's house, etc. Yes, it will be nice to get out and explore something totally new; but on the same token, it hurts like hell to leave. You never fully realized how attached you are until you have to let it go. I will definitely miss this place; I will miss my favorite biking trails and walking paths; I will miss the Rec Center; I will miss Chapters with that bloody Starbucks where I've wasted so many Saturday afternoons; I will miss the ten hours a week that I should've spent doing homework but used for Jujitsu instead; I will miss our crazy dojo. The kids from Jujitsu threw me a farewell party on Sunday night. It was a really special time. One of the student's fathers barbequed hamburgers, and over dinner, we played Jujitsu/Dojo/Brahm trivia. They also had a surprise for me: there was a row of approximately fifteen balloons attached to the mantlepiece in the basement, and I was told to pop them all, with one of them designated to be popped last. Using Sensei's pocket knife, I stabbed the first one open. (I actually used an assortment of knife strikes to pop the balloons. It was a lot of fun.) As the first one popped, a wad of cash fell out. As I continued popping the balloons, more and more money kept falling out. In the last one was a note writting by Laura assuring me that I will be missed, and telling me to use the money to come back for a visit. I am hoping to come back sometime in August, possibly for Iara's and my six-months. I can come back and party and get some training done with my Shinki Ryu friends. It will be a good time.

I think my parents think there's something wrong with me; more specifically, I think they think I'm depressed. Well, maybe not my mom. But I think my dad thinks/knows so. I'm pretty sure I'm verging on depressed. Not in any serious way, just mildly. Not as much as a lot of people think/though that I am/was. I was depressed fairly seriously in March; it was mainly my jujitsu friends who noticed and helped. Sensei gave me a decent talking to about my attitude, I apologized to everyone for being an ass-hat. They forgave me, and I proceeded to have a really awesome couple of weeks, just enjoying life. I guess I've just mellowed out significantly over the past few months. With the move being really, really close, I am feeling a profound sadness about leaving.


Black belt testing is on Saturday, and there is a few of us going for shodan in iaido. (for the unindoctrinated, that means blackbelt in swordfighting.) I am not so much nervous as I am excited. I am excited to see all of my Shinki-Ryu Jujitsu extended family again; I am excited to get another piece of paper saying I kicked butt. I am excited to wear a dress. Yes, I just said that I'm excited to wear a dress. For swordfighting, we are required to wear Japanese trousers called hamama. They are extrememly baggy pants. My pair is a little bit long, so I find myself tripping in them when I try to walk. I thoroughly enjoy them. Tying them, however, is another story.

I have nothing left that I am currently inclined to discuss with you, my dear reader. I trust this post satisfies curiousity. I apologize if it does not do justice to all mentioned.