Hello! This is where I'm posting my thoughts and experiences about things....all the things. I will be sharing the random thoughts that pop into my head. Some are deep, some are dumb. It's up to others to figure out which is which.
Ah yes, it is time for another post. And what am I talking about today? One of my favorite quotes. I don't actually know who said, "Civilize the mind, but make savage the body." I do know that they were absolutely correct. Now why is this fresh in my mind? Because I had my Krav Maga Level 2 certification test on Monday. Now the test itself was great. I had to disarm guns, fight people, etc. The best part, however, was that I was able to do "scenario" training. This is when the instructors all group up in the hallway and try to simulate "real world" shit. Now true, it's hard to simulate a real threat when you recognize the people. It is also hard to simulate a threat in a church hallway. Unless you're used to hateful Christians, in which case it makes perfect sense.
Didn't know I was a lesbian, did ya? On a semi-related note, my grandfather once announced that he was a lesbian. Evidently he took a quiz in Cosmo magazine, and "aced the damn thing". But I digress. The first simulation was to simply walk down the hallway. As I'm walking, I see people with knives and guns. Regardless, I kept going. I made it most of the way through, until there was someone distraught, asking for their cat. Eventually they decided to start the combat, and everything was done. I later found out that the instructors were expecting me to attack within the first several seconds. Little did they know that almost all of my friends carry knives, and most carry guns. It seemed silly to peck a fight with someone carrying heat, when they had not actually show intent to use said weapon.
Then I had the opportunity to run a different scenario. For this one, however, they gave me a large pad to carry. They gave me the pad, and said, "Here. To prepare you for parenthood, this is your child." Evidently, when my kid is involved, I elect to follow the more savage approach. Mind you this was a simulation, but damn did it trigger some reality.
As I am walking down the hall, a guy points a gun at me and asks for my wallet. I say that's fine, here you go. No problem. Then the guy says he wants my kid. That, I cannot allow. Two other people come up, looking to take the kid. I slowly move up on the guy, focusing on the gun, while I keep the others in the corner of my eye. As soon as they move, I grab the gun and pin it to the guy's side. I turn in, yelling to my son (the pad), "Hit him! Hit him, child! Claw the fuck outta him!"
While still controlling the gun, I turn and kick the other two people. I strip the gun from the man's hand, turn, and swing it like a club. I had enough wherewithal to pull the swing enough to miss his head. With that said, I beat the shit out of his fingers. There was a brief pause to make sure he was okay, which the guy was. He also asked if he can be presumed unconscious, and I confirmed that my original intent was to knock him the fuck out. The two other people are still there, and I turn the gun on them. I found an empty room and backed in, while holding the others at gun point. I closed the door, check the child, and verified that the pistol was ready to fire. Keep in mind that this was all fake equipment.
At that point, I found out that they expected me to walk much further down the hall. Someone came by the window and confirmed, "Yep, he's ready for a firefight." One person knocked, and I calmly asked, "WHO THE FUCK IS IT?" They responded, "Jehovah's Witness." I proceeded to yell, "I'm Jewish, go away." The scenario ended when someone tried to barge in and I "shot" them.
There was a follow up session, where several of the female instructors discussed what I should do if a woman comes up to take the child. They said, "This is not a safe environment for the baby. Let me take him to safety." I kindly responded that the child was safe with me, and safe with his mother, and that nobody else would be coming near him.
And that's when I realized that, as a soon-to-be father, I pity anyone that messes with my wife and kid(s). I hate using the phrase "my wife", or "my child", because it invokes too much control or "ownership". At the same time, I learned that they are a very easy trigger to insure that I tap into my most savage self. I was civilized enough to pull some attacks, but even attacking at "half-strength" is a hard fucking hit.
I don't know what has happened, since that test, but I have become more "aware". I have grown far more cognizant of the environment around me, and have taken far more strides toward preventative measure. I am not yet carrying a pistol, but I do take stock of the people around us. I do keep an eye on the exits, and keep a closer eye on all other people. I don't know if this comes form my Krav training, or if it is more due to the child being born soon. All I know is that I turning into a Papa Bear, and the little, old Russian woman in the back of my head is saying, "See. I told you. Strong like bear."
Moral of the Story: I'm certified for Level 2 in Krav Maga. Also, I looked up the quote. Turns out it was said by Chairman Mao. Not sure how I feel about that, seeing as how Mao was something of a dick, but the quote still stands.
HOLY SHIT!!!!! Where the fuck is that countdown music!? Oh wait, here it is:
Yes, that's a shitty quality clip from Arrested Development. No, I couldn't find a better clip. Fuck you, it's the best I got. And it does't fucking matter. WHY!? Because it's the final countdown! That's right! Last week, my wife and I went to the doctor. They said that the baby was making his way out and will be born in one, maybe one and a half, weeks. Now that wasn't a big deal, until we realized that this is 7-10 days! HOLY SHIT! My wife is already starting to dilate. I asked the doctor if he felt the baby, to which he said, "Yep. I was able to touch the top of his head." My wife and I both immediately bowed over and heaved. Here's an example:
Now this is a longer clip and includes a lot of added fluff, but my wife and I basically had the same dry-heave type of experience. Shortly thereafter, we each panicked and started getting shit ready. It turns out that you can pack an emergency hospital bag very quickly, when the time comes. We got all of our shit packed up, as much as we could, and then chose to tell our parents.
This is where everything took a turn. You see, my folks are traveling to New Orleans, and leave tomorrow. My mother-in-law flies in on Wednesday night. So now we have two different reactions. My folks want the child to be born before they leave. Every time I talk to them, they ask if my wife has gone into labor. When I tell them "no", they tell me that my wife needs to get up and move around to make the kid drop quicker. My mother-in-law, on the other hand, is the opposite. My wife talks to her and the first question is, "Did baby come out, yet?" When my wife says "no", my mother-in-law says good. Lay down and keep him in until I get there. We literally have one mother wanting my wife to stand on her head, and another wanting her to jump on a pogo stick.
What's more, they are both praying. My mother-in-law is praying to Jesus that the kid does not come before she gets there, and another praying to G-d that the kid comes before she leaves. That's right. This debate is turning into a battle of prayer. Who will win: Jesus, or G-d? I can picture it now...
Jesus: "Hey Pops, that kid really shouldn't be born until his grandmother gets to the US."
G-d: "No....I think he'll be born early."
Jesus: "Don't be a dick, Dad. Aren't you supposed to be all loving and all benevolent?"
G-d: "Boy, have you even read my memoirs? You're the nice one, not me. Don't believe me? Go talk to Pharaoh. I fucked his shit up!"
Jesus: "You damn it. This is different."
G-d: "You're just bitter over the whole 'I slept with my mom' thing."
Jesus: "No, I'm more pissed that you left me hanging....on a fucking cross."
G-d: "Me damn it, how often will you keep bringing that up?"
Moral of the Story: I may be going to hell. Also, I'm hoping the child is born on Wednesday morning. Both sets of grandparents would be unhappy, insuring that our son is born a disappointment. It would also give me a tremendous chuckle.
(And no, I don't believe in Jesus as the Lord and Savior. But it does make for funny stories.)
My wife is a badass. She is 36 Weeks preggers, and finishing up her degree. With that said, in her situation, she's getting fucked. Her boss is a fucking idiot, and trying to get out from her. Her committee is gridlocked, with one person supporting my wife's work, my wife's boss wanting shit done that doesn't matter, and two members that don't give two shits. As a result, my wife is being forced to get a Master's degree and graduate. Bear in mind that the university has a Concurrent Master's program that would literally let me wife get her Master's degree, and stay in the PhD program. Considering she only needs one more chapter for her dissertation, that's shitty. It made for a fuck-tonne of work for my wife, the graduate school, the department, everyone.
And why did I call my wife's boss a fucking idiot? The person works in water resources and didn't know that attenuation meant a reduction. Percent attenuation literally means percent removed or reduced. Now, I understand if someone outside of water resources doesn't understand. But for someone who has a background in treating water for pollution, you need to know the goddamn word. Even if she didn't, my wife's name is not Merriam goddamn Webster. It literally took me two seconds, just now, to Google the word "attenuation". Why did I Google it? To make sure there weren't ten different meanings. Guess what? There aren't. There are two. And the second definition? Literally a reduction in amplitude of signal, current, or oscillation. The second definition was just a more specific use of the first definition.
And to make things harder, my wife has to deal with this bullshit while 9-months preggers. Do you have any idea how hard it is to run around, filling out papers and delivering them on campus, when you are in Week 36? I don't either. But if it is half as hard as it is for my wife to get in and out of bed, it's gotta be a tremendous pain in the ass. Seriously, she looks like a turtle. She even said as much. She also equated herself to being a hippo. I told her that if she's a hippo, then she is the sexiest fucking hippo in the world. That's right, I know the right answer to that trap.
But I digress. The other night, my wife was in despair. She was dealing with the shit her committee had, she was having roller-coaster mood swings, and to top it off, it was fucking Valentine's Day. Nothing says "love" like filling out a transcript approval form. Let me tell you. Finally, after hearing her mope and wallow, we had a pep talk. Now that makes me sound like a dick. Keep in mind that I was working my ass off to shift her focus toward a bigger and brighter future. I wasn't blowing smoke either. Her future is fucking great. But finally, we had a talk.
And how did I manage to snap her out of her funk? I gave it to her straight. Warning: vivid and explicit imagery. Hide your inner child.
I told her that she is getting fucked. I got fucked in my degree, and her situation was far worse. In the world of fucking, this was a prison fucking. And her roommate is a big-ass motherfucker named "Tiny". And Tiny was fucking her. At this point, my wife interjected, "in the butthole". And I said "exactly". There isn't even a courtesy reach-around. In fact, Tiny is fucking her every goddamn day. In the butt. No lubricant. You know what Tiny uses for lubricant? Spit. And what makes it worse? It's a dry spit. It's a dry spit, after he has started dipping tobacco. That's right, she was getting dip fucked. That's just fucking unpleasant. In fact, it is so unpleasant, that I think that will be my new insult for people. This program was taking her to prison, and serving cock sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And yes, much of this was borrowed from Boondock Saints: All Saints Day.
Fortunately for me, I gave this rant as Big Papa Z and my wife started laughing her ass off. We then had a real talk about what her dreams were, how she would achieve them, and the fact that getting a Master's would likely do more for her than a PhD. Yes, PhD's have the title of "Doctor". But let's be real here, nobody is asking someone with a PhD in engineering or literature to help someone having a heart attack.
"Is there a doctor in the house?"
"I'm a doctor."
"What should we do?"
"Call 9-1-1. Duh."
While I believe that the PhD degree and title used to mean something in the past, the value has become trite. Modern science is driven by money, not by mystery. PhD projects follow the funding, not the actual scientific need. If, on the off chance you get a good project, you still need a good adviser. And by that, I mean an adviser who will put forth the effort to actually support, encourage, and empower the student. Fortunately, my wife has heard this same complaint and rant from several others - including one of her committee members. She has also recognized where her Master's will be far more useful than a PhD, when working in engineering.
Moral of the Story: While my wife may be in metaphorical prison, Tiny is about to get shanked. Also, she is the most beautiful hippo/turtle I have ever seen.
Now I can tell you, working and striving to be Alpha is a process. And as you do it more and more, you get better and better. As you get better at slipping into Alpha, it also gets easier to modify into whichever state you need. I'll use training as an example. I have another post coming that will elaborate on this, but one example is the deadlift. When I deadlift heavy, and I mean heavy, it puts me in a Beta state. For those that don't know, the deadlift taxes the entire central nervous system (CNS). As a result, I get jittery like a motherfucker. My adrenaline gets pumping, my heart gets jumping, and I feel like I'm on coke. Disclaimer: I've not actually tried coke.
What do I do to prevent this? I breath deeply and listen to calming music. It allows me to slow my pulse, calm my mind, and focus on the lift. I take out the ego, take out the mind, and focus on letting my body do what I know it can do. There are other training times when you want to let yourself go. If I am doing a sprint, trying to go as hard and far as possible, as quickly as possible, then you bet your sweet as that I am pushing myself into Beta. Click the link below, to see a heavy deadlift to Adele.
The same happens when I am fighting in Krav. I work hard to maintain Alpha. Why? Because I need that calm and focus. With that said, there are certain occasions that a Beta approach is better. I have sparred many people, using a "crazed" Beta approach. Why did it work? Because I allowed myself to be loud, aggressive, and chaotic. It added a psychological component to the fight, which forced my opponent to hesitate. Transferring that energy into an attack, I was able to overwhelm them with strikes. Notice in the video below, how the instructor blends the Alpha mentality of decision making, with the Beta mentality of attack. Note: This is not me in the video, and I am not this good (yet).
Now with all that being said, I can still tell when I am slipping into Beta. It happens at random times. I may have a long day at work. I may have a short day at work. I may wake up a certain way, or fall asleep a certain way. Regardless of the trigger, I have learned to recognize when I am slipping into a Beta state. This also happens to be when I am the most reactive, combative, and hypersensitive. When that happens, I step back. I isolate myself from interacting with others, so that I can regather my composure. Sometimes I still fuck it up. Even so, I work to correct myself, and then correct my actions.
Now why did I mention this? Because I slipped into Beta, got shitfaced, and ended up buck-ass naked in the tub. Read my second Baby Daddy/What the Shit, China crossover episode. But something good came from that. Noelle made the comment that she gained satisfaction from the story, because I always have my shit together. Little does she know that I ain't got shit together. I have literally been white knuckling it, praying not to fuck up beyond all reason (FUBAR). BUT! I have been working to maintain an Alpha state of mind.
The final bit is the responsibility of the Alpha. Being Alpha is great. It is. You have confidence. You give negative fucks (fucktosynthesis!!). You feel genuinely, appropriately powerful. At the same time, being Alpha means that you are a fucking Alpha. If you are going to be the big, bad wolf, or the King/Queen lion, you need to be ready to look after the pack. Taking an Alpha role means that you are accepting the Alpha consequences. I fucked up last weekend. I acknowledge it. I accept it. And I corrected it. I am owning my fuck up, and making it right. That is Alpha. Being Alpha is recognizing a potentially dangerous or volatile situation, and taking precautions to prevent it. Being Alpha is showing up, helping people, when they need it. Just as being Alpha means that you embody fucktosynthesis, you also have to give all the fucks. You can harvest power from the fucks that don't matter, but you sure as shit need to use that power to give fucks for the people that do.
Moral of the Story: Know yourself, be confident in yourself, and achieve Alpha status. Also, you can be Alpha as Fuck without having your shit together.
For further listening, here is a great video that discusses "being Alpha". He says the same shit I do, but adds a bit more of a hippie-dippie perspective: (warning: possible language).
