Back in LA

Returned on Sun eve. Still coughing up green phlegm, but less. And the green is now more of a chartreuse than a Kermit. So of course it's a good idea to train tonight. And of course it's a good idea after that to go to Long Beach to check out an apartment. I looked at a place in LB and a place in Lakewood this morning. I liked the LB one more than the LW one and want to keep looking. Well, "want" is putting it too forcefully. But I'm going to keep looking, at least at a few more.

The thing is that I would like to find something furnished, near Santa Fe Springs. The combo seems to make it a needle in a haystack. But I'm not discouraged yet. And it's a good thing since I've been looking for all of 45 hours.

Finally posted the pics from the tournament.

And the best news of all is that I'm not crying hysterically. So I'm moving forward! Looks like the decision to settle in for the time being is a good one. More later.

More on the tourney and my week in Chicago

Here are some pics from Fri afternoon after we went shopping.

We tried to escape from the van many times during the 20+ hour trip out to Wisconsin. We failed every time.

Chrissy and Eoin trying to appear hard at work.

Mikebyrd, his old beard, and his new Ouano hat. Thanks to John for the gear he donated!

JB looking like he's striking a GQ pose, but actually being caught unawares.

Rick, Anahi, Lindsey looking pensive.

Me, looking all scoldy at Mikebyrd with my camera, and Brian, looking all Brian-like.


The morning of the tourney came wicked early, like it always does. By 6:30 am we were all piled into the van and James’ rental car to head over to the venue. The mats were right where we had left them: rolled out so they could flatten overnight, but still impossibly heavy. Fortunately, there were many more people to help with them in the morning (including a bunch of Marines), leaving me free to tote Joe’s Bad Ass Coffee and Sam’s NHBgear boxes to one end of the venue. Then Anahi, Lindsey and I set up for registration, which got underway a little after the official start time of 8am.

By this time, Anahi had pegged that Midwestern accent pretty well (just watch Frances McDormand in Fargo, William H. Macy too, to get a feel for it), so she was making me laugh. There were no major problems with registration, so Anahi had things well in hand when I went to the refs’ meeting.

Andrew ran us through the rules, which I had gone over previously, multiple times. I started to get a leetle nervous then, because there were 10 refs at the meeting and only yours truly was female. But then I reminded myself that that’s pretty much the story of my jiu jitsu life, being the only chick. So I took some deep breaths and remembered I was there to challenge myself, that I’m fairly intelligent (no comments from Marcel, please), and that it wasn’t a life or death situation.

Then there was the rules meeting for the competitors. Rudy and I got to show the positions as Andrew explained them, which means I got to hip toss Rudy, take Rudy down with a double leg, get the mount on Rudy, and put Rudy into a guillotine. (The day could have stopped there and I would have been happy.)

My first matches were kids’ ones. They were easy but not necessarily because of the no submissions rule. Unfortunately, they were easy because frequently one kid completely dominated the other and the dominated kid ended up on the verge or past the point of tears. Fortunately, there was a mercy rule, where if one kid was up by 12 points or more, I stopped the match. I used this rule a couple times.

Then it was on to white and blue, gi and no gi, men’s and women’s matches. My table workers were James, a white belt under Andrew, who kept time, and Jeff, a brown or purple belt under Lloyd Irvin, who kept score. So James would holler out the time at different intervals and when the match was over, he’d throw a little beanbag at me so I could stop the competitors. Jeff used a flipbook to keep track of the points I awarded. The flipbook had two sets of numbers, one red and one green. I had a red and a green wristband and the competitors wore a red or a green band around their ankles for no gi, and attached to their belt for gi. I signaled 2 or 4 or however many points (or an advantage, which is awarded when one competitor comes very close to successfully completing a position and is used to decide a match if the point score is tied) using the hand with the wristband color that corresponded to the ankle/gi band of the competitor who pulled off the move.

James and Jeff also kept me sane, reminding me of the number of minutes for each match (this varied by skill level), making soothing noises when I screwed up, and laughing at my dumb jokes. Thanks to James and Jeff! I hope we get to work together again at the next tourney (which, actually, is in Richmond the 3rd weekend in March—my father’s birthday weekend! It’s an all kids’ tournament.).

Speaking of mistakes, I did make some. But for the most part, I did all right. Here are the mistakes, the things I’m happy about, and things that were not mistakes but that I want to fix for next time:

MISTAKES
1. In one of the men’s blue belt matches, I missed giving knee on the belly points to one competitor. I was on the other side of him and he was very low, so it didn’t look like he was on his knee on his opponent’s stomach. I didn’t know I had missed the points until Henry “The Monkey” Matamoros, a Pedro Sauer black belt with an academy in Milwaukee, said, “Ref, he’s been in that position for quite a while now.” So then I saw that I had missed it. Fortunately, the guy was racking up points and went on to win by submission.

2. In one of the men’s white belt matches, I announced that wristlocks were not allowed, when they were. This came as kind of a surprise, because wristlocks are not usually allowed for white belts, but the point is that one competitor said he had a wristlock on the other at one point during the match and would have tapped him with it, but he pulled back because of what I had said. And the other person ended up winning by advantage. Whether this is true or not, the point is that I announced that a legitimate submission was not legitimate, so in one competitor's mind, I made a mistake.

3. In another men’s gi match (blue belt, I think), one competitor got the other in a really tight triangle, so tight that the trapped guy started to gurgle. But then he stopped and I figured he had found a pocket of air. But THEN, he started punching his opponent in the stomach (he was kneeling in his opponent’s guard). At first I thought he was tapping vehemently, but he was actually pretty much out; I think his fight or flight instinct kicked in. He didn’t hurt Roger, the other guy, but he was really dazed and I had him sit down and called over the EMTs. He was okay, but I think the next time I hear somebody gurgling I should call it.

4. In no gi matches, there is absolutely no grabbing of clothing. In one of the novice matches, one of the fighters pointed out to me that his opponent was grabbing his clothing. So that’s another thing to watch for that I wasn’t paying close enough attention to. It wasn’t a disqualifiable (is that a word?) offense, but it was still irritating and wrong.

5. One of the most explicitly covered rules was no slamming. Slamming is when you pick up your opponent and bring him/her back to the ground hard. Takedowns don’t count as slams. A slam is when you’re already on the ground and you pick up and put down hard. It’s supposed to result in an immediate disqualification. Well, in retrospect, in one of the white belt gi matches I reffed, I think one of the guys slammed the other. He didn’t lift him high, but he brought him down kind of hard. And I think I was so surprised that somebody would do that that it didn’t really compute. Again, in retrospect, I’m pretty sure this same guy used a can opener on his opponent (a can opener is when you’re in your opponent’s guard and you pull on his head to put pressure on the neck to force the opponent to open his/her legs). Not allowed. AND, this same dude walked out of bounds while in his opponent’s guard, which amounts to fleeing competition, which also should result in disqualification. So to the guy who fought this dude, I apologize. I made the biggest mistakes in that match, and I will never make these particular mistakes again. And that dude needs to learn some sportsmanship.

THINGS I DID WELL

1. I did a pretty good job of explaining rules to people before they competed, my wristlock mistake notwithstanding. In particular, I emphasized that people needed to stick their positions for 3 seconds before they’d get their points.

2. I blocked out the noise around me and wasn’t influenced by the fact that sometimes my friends or people I knew were coaching the people on my mat. For instance, Jeff said there were some imposing Brazilians yelling at me to give points, but I counted the 3 seconds before awarding the points instead of being intimidated by them. (Frankly, I don’t remember them—it’s probably just as well.)

3. I gave a crap. I really think people can tell when you care and when you’re phoning it in. Not that the other refs didn’t care, but maybe some of my greenness was counterbalanced by the fact that I really wanted to do a good job, and I’m hoping that came across.

THINGS TO CHANGE FOR NEXT TIME

1. This time around I just held up my fingers so Jeff could see who got points, so competitors had to rely on their coaches to know whether they got points. Next time, I plan to call out the points, like, “Two points, red!” in addition to holding up two fingers, so competitors can know the score while concentrating on the task at hand.

2. I need to be more uniform when awarding advantages. I always awarded advantages for people when they passed to half guard and established a secure position, but I wasn’t always as consistent with submission and sweep attempts. So I have some work to do there too. Advantages are extremely subjective, so I need to figure out some of my own criteria for what constitutes a true advantage and then apply those criteria to every match. That way, even if people don’t agree with my criteria, I’ll be able to explain them and to assure everyone that they are being applied uniformly across competitors and matches.

3. Stalling. I don’t really think anybody was stalling on my mat, fortunately. But I heard there was stalling on other mats. So I want to watch some footage and/or talk to people about what constitutes stalling so I can call it when I see it.

4. I was pretty nervous, and I think that came across as matter-of-factness. There’s nothing wrong with that, but especially with kids, I want to focus more on how competing is supposed to be FUN. So next time I’m still going to be professional and objective, but I’m going to smile more and wish people luck more consistently.

So there you have it, my reffing experience.

As far as other aspects of the tourney go, there were also two 8-man professional divisions in addition to the regular divisions I and others were reffing (professional in that the competitors stood to take home some money if they won). One division was for guys who weighed 160 and under, and the other was for 205 lb and under guys. The 160 and under division was full of my friends: Johnny, Jimmy and Rudy (who both flew in from LA and were not happy about the 10 degree weather), Mark Vives, and Andre Leite from Carlson’s. Ryan Hall was supposed to be there too but the airline had other plans.

Congratulations to Scott Bieri, Cobra Kai brown belt, who won the whole thing, beating Johnny by points in the final. I had met Scott in November when I trained at Cobra Kai; he was working at the On The Mat store there. He was as friendly this time around as he was back then, and I was glad for another chance to say hello, especially because this time I remembered to get a picture with him:

I also got to practice my Portuguese some more with Fredson, and snapped this picture of him and Trey. Mostly the three of us made fun of Dave Jacobs in his absence. That's hilarious in any language.

I didn’t know as many people in the 205 and under division, but I’m happy to be able to congratulate Rick Macauley on winning the whole thing, by heelhooking his opponent in the final. Hooray for Rick and Scott!

One of the crappy things about being a ref is that you have to pay attention to your mat, even if more interesting matches are going on elsewhere. Fortunately, they stopped the action on all the other mats for both professional division finals, but I didn’t get to see much of the qualifying matches. So I didn’t get to see Rudy and Andre’s matches, among others I had wanted to see. There will be video, though.

I’m also so happy for my friend Natasha, blue belt under Carlson and Carlson, Jr. She competed this past weekend after a year-long hiatus, and kicked butt. She beat both her opponents, including a tough purple belt. Natasha works her ass off at BJJ and, as she puts it, has an anger inside that can’t be taught. Obviously, these two things together make a winning combination.

Tourney cleanup was worlds easier than setup—thank you and Semper Fi, Marines! I spent a little time walking around talking to people including Pete the Greek and his awesome wife Patricia, Moike, Yeshua (Carlson blue belt), Aaron (Carlson black belt), Fredson, Scott, Ryan Gregg (newly minted Rigan black belt and On the Mat guy), Joe and Alexa of Bad Ass Coffee fame, Johnny. Even after doing the pro division, Johnny had a superfight against Henry “The Monkey” Matamoros at the evening MMA event. We all went back to cheer him on, though the crowd was so big he didn’t even know we were there.

Here is a pic of me with Pete the Greek, his awesome wife Patricia, and Moike. They are behind the counter of the On the Mat store at the event. I am the nobody who is not cool enough to be behind the counter, though Ryan Gregg did give me a free pair of shorts! Thanks, Ryan! And I forgot to get a picture of me with him. Boo to me! For some reason, this pic looks like an album cover to me. Like we're in some kind of freakish rock band.

It was quite a match—lots of acrobatics and showmanship. Klint did a great job of reffing, and Henry ultimately won 11-6. Congrats to both guys, because they put on a really impressive show. Then it was back to the restaurant next to the hotel, a steakhouse where about 15 of us ate, some of us drank, and I polished off a salad with about a half pound of Wisconsin cheddar on it. I tried to capture the group—here’s the attempt:

Yeshua, Aaron, JB, Brian, Chrissy, James, Justin, Trey, Papa John, Klint, Rick, Anahi, Jimmy (behind napkin), Rosey, Eoin, Andrew

So then I broke up the group a little. Here are a pooped but happy Brian and Chrissy:

Me, mid-blink, and Jimmy enjoying his post-competition meal.

Papa John, right, holding court with Justin and Trey (also mid-blink--sorry Trey!)

JB, obviously happy he isn't a) outside and b) moving mats.

Mikebyrd and Amanda having a lovely cocktail at the bar

So after my half beer I was ready to sleep, as were my roommates Anahi and Rick (Lindsey stayed out). Some of the group did the same, and some of the group stayed at the bar drinking Jaegermeister shots courtesy of Jeff the scorekeeper.

The next morning, James, Justin, Klint and Lindsey left ass early, so Anahi, Rick and I watched TV and ate granola until it was time to check out and go to breakfast with the rest of the group. Yes, we ate breakfast before we ate breakfast, and then we headed out: dropping Rick and Anahi at the Milwaukee airport and then me and Jimmy at O’Hare. Jimmy flew back to LA, never to be seen in the Midwest again, and I took the El into town to catch up with Andy, Laura, and Laurie and to start my visit in Chicago this week.

They went to the movies and to sushi and I dinked around on my computer at a Starbucks until they were done. Then we went back to Andy’s, in my old neighborhood, where we had ice cream and Entenmann’s chocolate chip cookies for dinner. Well, for me it was dinner. A great training dinner. Not really, but I’m 36 and I get to do whatever the hell I want. So that was my dinner. And then we spent an inordinate amount of time at the Carl Winter site I blogged about earlier. He’s a USDA scientist who has put his thoughts and beliefs about food safety to music; he has written some original pieces, but mostly he changes the words of pre-existing songs to reflect his conviction that You’d Better Wash Your Hands (I Wanna Hold Your Hand), It’s Fun to Work at the USDA (YMCA), and Stomachache Tonight (Heartache Tonight). Check out the site. There are videos too. (No need to thank me. And by the way, he is available for professional engagements.)

Monday was Presidents’ Day, so Andy had the day off. (When you don’t have a job, you tend to forget what day it is, let alone when the holidays are.) So he and I went to this awesome restaurant/market on Southport that I had always wanted to try. There was a little bit of a wait, so we went to the CVS to read US Weekly and check our blood pressure. I willed mine down within 15 minutes from 123/83 to 117/71, while my pulse stayed steady at 49. I think Andy’s diastolic pressure was lower than mine, but my systolic pressure AND my pulse were lower than his. In your face, Andy! And yes, it was demented and sad, but we had a good time.

In the evening I trained at Carlson’s with Issac, Natasha, Amy, TK, Tony the Tiger and other old favorites, and then Natasha and I went to dinner at Dunlay’s, a restaurant near her place that has this awesome chocolate chip cookie a la mode that’s served in a cast iron skillet. I laughed so hard with her that my stomach hurt. I miss that a LOT, laughing with Natasha whenever I want to. And when I got back to Andy’s I shot the breeze with him and fended off insults about my reffing from an internet troll, an internet troll who 1) didn’t actually see me ref and 2) is a good friend of mine. I was laughing my ass off about it, and what’s nice is that several people asked me if I wanted them to kick this guy’s ass. I do, but not because he was trolling me about my reffing. But I have good people in my corner.

Tues was a noon class with Kedar, lunch with Natasha, coffee with Fat Tony, training at New Breed. Busy busy! Sparring with Kedar was awesome, and in the evening I got to spar with Chuong, my loyal reader! Sadly, there are no pics of me with Kedar or me with Chuong in my triangle. Just pics of me with Mark Vives and Johnny, aka Mr. Sweatybritches. Would you learn BJJ from this man?


Wow, I look chunky. Thanks to Mark for a great class, and congratulations too; his fiance may be giving birth to their daughter even as I write this!

Tues morning is also when I started to feel sick and cough up fluorescent green phlegm. Nice. Anahi, Chrissy, Brian, JB all got REALLY sick, like begging for sweet death sick, so I’m still convinced I got off easy, with just a headache and a little bit of a cough. Amazing what kinds of funk you can pick up when you’re cooped up in a van with 13 people playing R-rated Mad Libs.

The rest of this post is just quick observations that I’ll flesh out later. Just want to get them online, though.

At New Breed, we covered 6 submissions from high guard. Before that we did the warmup, which was no prob for me because I’ve done it a ton at the SFS NB. These guys weren’t happy, though. Then more nighttime QT with Andy.

Wednesday, breakfast with Colette @ Maxim’s, lunch with Gary at Keeffer’s Kaffee, chatting with Felicia, walking and shopping, dinner #1 with NT at Frances’, and dinner #2 at Cornelia’s with Eshanthika. Love them all! Best More eve QT with Andy, though I was pooped.

Thurs Junior showed up at class! He taught a sweet knee bar from a sweep. I got to talk to him re: LA and get his blessing. Training with Kedar, lunch with NT, coffee with Brooke. This weekend spending some time checking out Craig’s list, and I get back to LA on Sunday.

Weary and a little sick

I am still going to post a write-up of the Milwaukee tourney and the rest of this week. But it's been difficult because:

1. I'm having a great time in Chicago, training, seeing friends, eating.
2. I'm a little bit sick with a sore throat and flourescent green phlegm (probably caught something from one of the 13 hacking people in the van en route to Wisconsin)
3. 1 and 2 are leaving me pretty tired.

So I have a ton of notes and some more pics from the week, but have yet to put together the posts. Right now I'm gonna get some sleep, and tomorrow I may have time to post. It will happen eventually!

Meantime, go here and listen to the musical stylings of Carl Winters, USDA scientist, who has revised popular songs to deliver messages about food safety. No need to thank me. You'd just better wash your hands.

Telling the tournament story in installments

I’m tie-ood. It’s late and I will sleep soon. But I want to blog too. To blog, perchance to write some stuff. Where to start? Lots has happened since my last big post. Good stuff. So I guess I’ll go chronologically.

Last Wednesday I had lunch with Jen* in DC. She is in the process of leaving her job to steal away to London, get married to her fiancé, and start a new life as an expatriate (her fiancé has a job there and she was ready for a change anyway, so she and her pug Mimi will move across the pond this spring). But before she does that, she has to extricate herself from the job. Easier said than done; her first mistake was being competent, so now they want her to stay on and are sort of in denial about her imminent departure. God, I so know that feeling of having taken a huge step and having to wait until the effects of the step are really felt. But she’s doing fine and looking to April, when her time will be done. Hooray for Jen*!

Jen* is a dear friend of mine from college, as is Julie. And while I got to know them in an environment where we were drinking too many beers, “studying” Chaucer and John Donne, and getting our dander up over important social issues such as the spork controversy (one of the best dining halls on campus insisted on providing only sporks, which suck as forks because the tines are too short and suck as spoons because the tines make spilling an inevitability. So there was a huge, indignant uproar about getting rid of sporks and providing normal plasticware. I think we won that battle, praise Jesus), our friendship has only deepened over time, so now, close to 20 years after I first met them, they are still two of my greatest friends. I am grateful that although our choices have been completely different we are still compatible. And I can’t wait to meet Julie’s son in May and go to Jen*’s wedding in London in July!

Later in the afternoon I was supposed to train with Seph and Ryan, two young’uns at Lloyd Irvin’s academy, but it fell through. The weather was crazy bad anyway, so it was just as well, I guess, though I was disappointed. But I hung out at Julie’s until it was time to pick up Anahi, who came to town to meet up with the US Grappling group on Thurs morning. And the three of us shot the breeze a little bit at Julie’s place before Anahi and I left for Rosie and Eoin’s in MacPherson Square on Thursday morning, where the van came for us.

Thanks to Julie for showing me such hospitality and fun!

Thursday we drove ALL DAY to get to Milwaukee, including sitting in traffic in DC for about 2 hours, I think. “We” is Chrissy, Brian, Andrew, Amanda, Trey, Lindsey, JB, Anahi, Mikebyrd (who must always be called Mikebyrd, not Mike), Klint, Rosie, Eoin, and me. We left DC at 9:30 (keep in mind that the Richmond contingent had been driving since 5am) and arrived in Milwaukee at 1am local time (2am eastern time).

In between, we sat on our asses, stopped for gas, played Mad Libs (the rule was that for every Mad Lib, Mikebyrd had to be the third noun—or plural noun, which was even better, because you can never have too many Mikebyrds), ate roadside diner food, and made enough condensation with our breath to frost the windows of the van on the inside.

I got to sit next to Trey, a BJJ Revolution brown belt under Rodrigo Medeiros and Julio Foca, and I picked his brain about reffing, which was so helpful, but we also talked about everything under the sun, from his wife and daughter and other interesting relatives (Bonnie Parker of Bonnie and Clyde, Jimmy Swaggart, and Jerry Lee Lewis, to name a few, as well as a bunch of hairdressers) to the punk bands he was a roadie for to his job as a carpenter. Trey is my new best friend. Seriously, I had met him before at Andrew and Eric Burdo’s academies, but this was the first time I had gotten to really chat with him. And he kicks ass.

James and Justin met us out there, as they had to leave on Thursday evening because they couldn’t take multiple days off. Unfortunately, we knew there was trouble for them when they called and said, “How long were you guys on the NJ Turnpike?” We were on several turnpikes, but NJ’s wasn’t one of them. So by the time they called, they had driven several hours out of their way, and when all was said and done, it took them 24 hours to get from Richmond to Milwaukee.

When they called on Friday, we were out running errands while a sick Andrew slept all day. Poor Chrissy was sick too, but she was in better shape than Andrew and muddled through. We bought a bunch of stuff at Target (water and snacks for the volunteers, disinfectant for the mats, first aid stuff) and then at the grocery store. By this time Rick had arrived, and he is a welcome addition to any group, so I was thoroughly enjoying Anahi’s impressions of Jerry Springer guests, JB’s stories of the time he spent in Iraq recently as part of his military duties, and everyone’s incredulity at 1) how freaking cold the Midwest can be and 2) how hilarious the Midwest accent can be if you’re not used to it. For the time being, I had blotted out the fact that we had a crapload of work to do the next day, including, for me, reffing for the first time. Freak out.

In the evening, some of the group went to help with the participant weigh-ins. God, how I wanted to be part of that group! But I went with the strong guys to help move mats. Unclear why, unless I was bragging about how everyone at Yamasaki thought I had freakish man strength. That’ll teach me about the sin of pride. Poor James and Justin came straight from the highway to the high school where we borrowed 5 wrestling mats and 7 smaller but equally unwieldy mats.

Okay, I have no idea how much these mats weighed or their dimensions, but let’s just say 60 tons and a million feet by a million feet. That’s at least how they felt. At other tournaments these guys run, we have just used the mats from Andrew’s Burdo’s and this other guy Brian’s academy (not to be confused with Brian Linzy). Those mats are probably 6’ x 3’ apiece, so there are a lot of them to move, but one person can move one mat.

These mats were huge, like the length of the bedroom I’m sitting in right now—maybe 10 or 12 feet? (I’m terrible with estimates like that), and weighed hundreds if not thousands of pounds. Plus, we had to carry them up a flight of stairs to get them down to the door. PLUS, we had to get two of them out of their storage closet in the gymnasium, which meant waiting for the half time of the basketball game that was going on. Nobody really knew who we were. I felt creepy, hanging around a high school.

I can describe the mats in more detail later, but for now, suffice it to say that they were humongous and heavy as all get-out, and we didn’t have enough people to help us with them. So 4 hours later, we were tired.

Speaking of tired, I’m gonna call it a night, but more tomorrow on the tournament itself and all the cool people who were there! Oh, and PICS!

After the Milwaukee tourney

Been helping out with the US Grappling circuit's first Milwaukee tournament. It happened yesterday. We're lounging in the hotel right now, getting ready to rally again.

Great tournament, awesome people, and I have pics! I will report on the whole thing sooner or later.

The winter, and my returning content (ment)

Okay, I have somewhat of a hit. Well, at the very least, I have a plan for the next couple months. I went back to first principles: what’s important to me right now? These things: training, competing, and finding a place to plug in so I can have a sense of community and a more regular routine.

So I figured out that LA is the place for me to do that for the time being. On the training front, my game has improved by leaps and bounds since I’ve been in LA, thanks to Johnny, Felicia, Jimmy, Rudy, and everyone else I’ve gotten to work with. On the competition front, the PanAms (the biggest BJJ competition in North America) will be in LA at the end of March, and the Mundial (the biggest BJJ competition in the world, usually held in Brazil) will be in LA in the summer. There will also be a crapload of competitions in between, and there is Abu Dhabi to help Felicia prepare for. (Ridiculous side note: Tim Sylvia, a UFC fighter, mistakenly referred to Abu Dhabi as “Abu Dhabu.” So during the week Anahi and I were basically joined at the hip, that morphed into “Hibbedy Dibbedy.” Doesn’t take much to make me laugh.)

And on the community front, I really did start to plug into the BJJ community there, again thanks to Johnny, Felicia, Jimmy, Rudy, and everyone else. I’m also still looking into muscle activation therapy; it just so happens that an internship starts March 23rd in Irvine, CA, so I sent an email to the organization to see if there’s still room in it for new registrants. And there are Trader Joe’s-es everywhere, so I can see if they’re hiring. What is it about me and Trader Joe’s? I don’t know. I just like the place, the food, the fact that Adamarie had such a good experience. So I could really build a network in LA.

Interestingly, I’m convinced that the first thing I need to do to build that network is move out of the academy. You’d think that living in the academy would signal my commitment to LA and to training, but it actually feels very transitory. Maybe that’s why I was able to live there for so long, because I knew I could pull up stakes anytime. And that’s probably part of what freaked me out about considering finding a place; finding and moving into a place will take effort, while crashing at the academy took none. So if I take the time to find and move into a different place, then it won’t be as easy to come to the academy, so coming there will be more of a commitment. I’ll still be spending a crapload of time there, but this way I can retreat when I need a different kind of energy. And lest I sound ungrateful, I’m not. New Breed has been my home in more ways than one for a while now, and it will continue to be. I’ll just sleep and pee and cook elsewhere—not all in the same room, mostly.

Anyway, speaking of cooking, I just also want a kitchen for the first time in the better part of a year. So since I decided that being in LA for the next couple months will help me meet my main goals of training, competing, and creating a community, I have been checking craigslist and thinking about what I want by way of domicile. Here’s what I want (I’m a firm believer that in order to get something you want, you first have to be very clear about what that is.) I want an apartment that I can sublease for 3 months (March 1-June 1) that:
1. is furnished
2. costs less than $1000/month
3. has ample parking
4. is in a safe neighborhood
5. is within 20-30 minutes from the academy on the San Fernando Valley side (so, west or northwest of the academy. Long Beach is okay too)
6. is a single occupancy unit (no roommates)
7. has no smokers living in the area
8. has laundry facilities in the unit or on the premises
9. is near some good restaurants and coffee shops
10. has wireless access

If I think of other things I’ll add them, but those are the basics. That will enable me to try LA on for size, sort of dip my foot in the pool. As my friend Julie, whom I’m staying with here in Silver Spring, MD, said, I’ll be going from the 10,000 foot view of LA to the 3,000 foot view. Julie has been a great sounding board too. She has basically said what others have said, which is that committing to any place is scary, but she has faith in me that I can make it work, no matter where I choose. This is why Julies are good to have around; when I forget to believe in myself, she and the other people who love me do it for me.

She and I also talked about how committing to a place means re-entering a world and a set of responsibilities and mundanities (is that a word?) that I had been able to push aside for a long time. I probably imagine that reentry means the end of the fun. But it doesn’t have to be that way. I just need to remind myself of that and make this situation fun rather than letting it freak me out. As she said, this could be a really exciting time in my life if I’d let it be. So that’s the intention now. Find a place to live and have fun doing it. Check the doubts at the door for 3 months so I can really give it an honest go. And the rest (job, community, routine) will fall into place thereafter.

This means that for the time being, I won’t be moving to Philly. But I don’t regret taking this trip for one minute. I had a BALL there and look forward to the next time I get to go. Plus, I saw some old friends and made some new acquaintances there that I’ll probably get to see at the PanAms. Heather, for one, said she’s coming, and she’d better be wearing her fight panties.

And I’m still working through why I needed to go there. Again, Julie was helpful with this. She observed that the experiences I was looking for when I decided to take the trip in the first place—excitement, a sense of adventure, all things new—are not necessarily the same experiences I would be looking for when it’s time to “re-enter.” Upon re-entry, I’m looking for things like stability, familiarity, a measure of predictability (but one that doesn’t devolve into boredom, of course). LA is completely foreign to me, so it makes sense that in the thick of the trip I would be drawn there. Philly is familiar in a lot of ways—I can’t tell you how familiar—so it makes sense that I would be drawn there upon completion of the trip.

But in a weird way, it seems that once I realized I have options, that realization freed me to be intrepid again. I think I was feeling a little trapped when I got to LA (oh my god, it’s so far away from my family, it’s forever, it’s different), and my trip to Philly gave me some much-needed perspective. And as I mentioned, it also enabled me to go back to my first principles, which are that I want to train and compete, and I want to build a community. And for now, I have decided, LA is the best place for me to do those things. I can change my mind at any time after May 31, but for the next 3 months, I’m committed to making a go of it in LA.

And lest Philly lovers get on my case for not choosing it or making it sound boring, believe me when I say that I could build a very happy, very exciting life there. I just know on some level that at this moment, it’s not the place for me. Doesn’t mean it won’t ever be, or that it isn’t right for everyone who does choose to live there. I lived in its shadow for 18 happy years. But right now a different choice is what’s best for me. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

So as Adamarie would say, I’m taking care of business. Slowly but surely. First thing is to find a place to live, second thing is to ENJOY MYSELF. Actually, switch those first and second things. Third and fourth and infinity things will then fall into place.

In other news, I had a great weekend. Julie and Patrick were out of town, so after I set off the house alarm, things were relatively quiet. All day Saturday and all day Sunday I was at Mario and Fernando Yamasaki’s academy in Rockville, MD, where my friend Dave, aka DAB, trains, and where Fredson Paixao was conducting a seminar.

Fredson is an unbelievable expert in jiu jitsu, and he specializes, at least lately, in wristlocks. For the civilians, hold up one hand. Grab the fingers of that hand with the other hand. Keep your forearm pointed toward the ceiling while pulling your fingers down toward the floor. Do this until it hurts. Now push your fingers back the other way so your palm is facing the ceiling. Do this until it hurts. Now imagine getting your hand trapped in your opponent’s gi, against your opponent’s chest, or between your opponent’s forearm and hand until you feel this pain. This is a crude description of a wristlock.

He showed some great setups for wristlocks, and during the training session the next day, you’d periodically hear his sparring partners—myself included—yelping in pain as he threw them on; they come on fast. He also showed some good guard passing details and moved so smoothly, unlike the flailers among us (read: me).

Fredson is also a very nice person, and I was lucky to get a chance to chat with him a little as well. Of course, he speaks limited English, and I speak limited Portuguese, so that made it kind of an adventure. I find Portuguese to be difficult to understand under the most optimal conditions, and Fredson has a tendency to swallow his words, so our conversations were probably amusing to observe: me taking 5 minutes to formulate and spit out a sentence or question, Fredson mumbling his response, and me smiling blankly and asking him to repeat himself 9 or 10 times until he got frustrated and wristlocked me.

No, that last part didn’t really happen. He is a patient and kind person, and he made me feel better by saying that even his wife, who speaks Portuguese, doesn’t understand him most of the time. So if I ever get to the point where I can understand him, I’ll really understand Portuguese. I’m not holding my breath. But it was fun to speak it! I want to work at it more.

I did get to spar with Fredson, where “spar” = Fredson reclined comfortably and hummed a tune while I spazzed around looking for some kind of opening and periodically tapped to the wristlocks he’d throw on with no apparent effort. I kid you not, I wasn’t even able to pick up his hand from the mat, because he didn’t want me to. I couldn’t get my hand under his neck. I couldn’t move him in any way. It was like trying to get position on a bag of sand.

Training with people like Fredson is so humbling, and it’s also simultaneously inspiring and depressing. It is possible to become so good at BJJ. And I have such a long way to if I ever get there. Eventually I offered to get Fredson a book or a magazine to look at while I tried in vain to force an opening because he was just so unchallenged. Next time we spar I’ll get someone to give him a manicure or something.

Here’s a cool thing: he saw my Team Estrogen patch and wanted to know where he could get some, both for his wife (who is a blue belt) and for his own competition gis. The women who post on the Team Estrogen forum have had this conversation before, about who can wear the patches. I think anybody who supports women in grappling can wear them, and I have made presents of them to several men who train. So I am really stoked that Fredson wants some and have already placed the order with my friend Alicia to get them to him. I can’t wait to see if he really puts them on his gis!

Here’s a pic of him loving the patch, along with me and Dave.


Here’s just me and Fredson.

Here’s me with Fernando Yamasaki, who graciously welcomed me to the seminar at his academy. I like his glasses! (You can't really see in this pic, but they have red stems.)


Here’s me with Daniel, my training partner for the seminar. I should really crop these pics. Too lazy.


And here’s me with Rosie, aka Supervixen, who was at the seminar but feeling under the weather. Feel better, Rosie!


I unfortunately didn’t get pictures of myself with Will, a purple belt who stirs the turd on the forum as Wannabe (and was a fun sparring partner), or Morgann, a black belt who kicked my ass up and down the mat—in a good way—and gave me lots of pointers. It’s funny; all those guys, including Fredson, told me that I’m as strong as some of the men who train. And by strong I don’t mean technique-wise, though I think they were pleasantly surprised by my technique too. I mean physically strong. Like they asked me if I lift weights or take supplements. They stopped short of asking if I take steroids, but maybe they wondered about that too. The answer to all of those questions is no. I guess I just have freakish, thirtysomething woman strength, which has certainly been enhanced by the jits.

Of course, I still can’t do a single pull-up. Well, maybe one. But that’s seriously it.

So thanks to Fredson for a wonderful and humbling BJJ experience, Dave for being my host, Fernando for welcoming me into his academy, and Morgann, Daniel, Will, and Luis for kicking my ass for about 3 hours straight. Life is good!

In other news, there’s a huge snowstorm gripping the Midwest, northeast, and here in the DC area. This is not good. Day after tomorrow a bunch of us are getting into a rental van and driving to Milwaukee for the tournament. And on Fri night Jimmy is getting a red eye from LA to Milwaukee to compete in the tournament. He is NOT happy. I’m just hoping that things will blow over by then and we’ll have snow on the ground to contend with but not coming down on us.

Meantime, tomorrow I’m having lunch with Jen*, some kind of interaction with Ken and his lovely daughter, and scary/awesome sounding training with Ryan and Seph (their academy, Lloyd Irvin's, will be closed because of the weather, but the instructors are going to get together in the empty building and have at it. Yoiks.).

Finally got Philly pics posted!

So you can go back to the post where I promised pics of the Migliarese brothers and Little Tony Pacenski, etc, and see what I mean now. And here's one more pic from Philly for my mom and dad, taken in the Italian Market area. It's a mural of some entertainers from their day: Eddie Fisher, Chubby Checker, Bobby Rydell, Frankie Avalon. A lot of those Brat Pack type guys were from the Philly/NJ/NY area; in fact, my mom went to high school in Belleville, NJ, with Joe Pesci and Connie Francis (whose real name is something like Conchata Frankinero). And there's a musical out now called Jersey Boys.

So Mom and Dad, this one's for you and your neighborhood!

BTW, I forgot to mention: my parents live in Florida, so when the tornado hit, I was pretty concerned. But it hit north of them, and it turns out that they were blithely going about the business of being retired and didn't even know how serious the situation was. So I'm glad you're safe!

And I'm in the middle of a post about my latest "hit," the Fredson Paixao seminar, etc. So I'm no longer freaking out, at least for now. Watch this space for more details and more pictures.

Random tidbits from DC

Okay, you may have noticed that some of the pictures are posted and others aren't. I was getting some good wireless at Rick and Anahi's yesterday and then it went out on me. And now I'm getting no wireless at all (posting from Julie and Patrick's computer). So I'll post the rest of the pics later.

Meantime, a couple things:

1. I forgot to mention that when I was sparring with Little Tony the other night, he asked me if I'm a wrestler because when he was trying to take me down, I spontaneously did a "shin whizzer." Here's a description of a whizzer: Imagine you are facing your opponent and he scoops under your right arm with his left arm. That's a bad position for you because your opponent can lift you up, off balance you, and take you over. You can neutralize that bad position somewhat by turning your right shoulder down and putting your weight on your opponent so he can't lift you up. That's a whizzer. A shin whizzer is when your opponent has scooped under your leg and you grab your own shin, turning your shoulder down and putting all your weight on your leg.

I am not a wrestler. I just did the shin whizzer without thinking. It makes me happy that it was a good thing to do. Hot damn. My stand-up/takedowns still suck donkey butt, but they are better than they used to be!

2. I have left Philly. I loved it there and had a ball with Anahi, Rick, Jared, Sharon, and the people I met there, especially Heather/Balance Babe, who is my new best friend. (Not really, because we've known each other for about 48 hours and that would be creepy, but we got along great and cracked each other up. Good sign! Another good sign is that I made Rick Migliarese laugh by pretending to propose to Anahi the way Rocky Balboa did to Adrian: "I wondered if you wouldn't mind marrying me too much" and I made Phil M. laugh by describing Carlson Sr.'s "Gracie diet": Chipotle and Starbucks brownie frappucinos) I still have no idea whether I belong there long term, but the people I met and trained with were so welcoming and I know I could be happy there.

3. I am now in DC in my friends Julie and Patrick's place in Silver Spring, MD. Julie gave me clear instructions on how to get into the house and turn off the alarm. I managed to not be able to do it, so the alarm sounded and eventually the police came to make sure I am not a criminal. I am a good houseguest.

4. The tentative plan tonight is to train with Dave Jacobs at the Yamasaki in Rockville. In addition to Dave, the other draw is Fredson Paixao, who is in town to do a seminar tomorrow. Fredson is amazing, and Dave has a man crush on him. It's funny to hear him talk about him and will be hilarious to see him interact with him.

So I'm back in DC for the time being. Still questing, I suppose, and working on what my plan will be once this trip is over. More on pictures, etc, later.

Oh. My. God. It is FREEZING

Okay, here I am in Philly. Freezing my badonkadonk off, as Joe Rogan would say. (Joe Rogan is a commentator for the Ultimate Fighting Championship who talked about some fighter’s badonkadonk. Most people agreed that it was a bad idea and that he should never do it again). It’s dangerously cold here, in the single digits with below freezing wind chills. And just Sunday the zipper on my Ouano Sherpa broke, so now I’m kind of bundling up as I can. Anahi loaned me a hat and another jacket. Holy crap, it’s farging freezing. And just last night Mother Nature added insult to injury by throwing down some snow. Not enough to wreak havoc, just enough to say, “That’s right, people. You are my own personal chew toys.”

Needless to say, my friends in LA are having a field day; texting me about how warm it is there relative to Philly, giving me a hard time about cheese steaks (Britt keeps sending me pictures of them—delicious looking), etc. The other night I IMed with Wen, who informed me that it was 78 degrees in LA on Monday. And I have to admit that sounds pretty nice right about now.

I am having a great time here. I arrived last Thurs evening and had a nice dinner with Sharon, Jared, and Flash. Friday I absolutely did not make Jared’s 7:30am gi class. I blamed it on feeling sick and also being jet lagged, but mostly I’m just a wuss. Once I deigned to wake up, Sharon, Anahi, and I hung out together; Sharon was getting ready for a trip to Hawaii with her family so she took the day off from work, and Anahi and I are between jobs right now. We had awesome subs from a place called Primo’s (sopressata, where have you been all my life?) and walked around the Italian Market area of Philly.

Here’s a picture of me and Sharon in the market. Sharon is claiming the black eye as her handiwork; she’s the first of many who have.

In the evening I crashed at Sharon’s and petted Flash for a long time. He’s so cute. I finally got a picture of him; here you go:

On Saturday Brad Daddis, one of Jared’s students and friends, ran a very fun tournament with an 8-man professional division (165 lbs and under). There was some amazing talent, including JT Torres, a 17-year-old phenom who submitted his first opponent via rear naked choke; Mike Easton, another game up-and-coming young’un who stepped in at the last minute to replace his sick teammate Ryan Hall; Andre Bacaraba, who had to cut a lot of weight but had no problem winning the whole thing; and Andrew Smith aka Goatfury, who won his first two, including one by footlock, before losing by 2 to Andre. One disappointing turn of events was Andrew’s fight against Ken Primola, also a very game competitor and former D1 wrestler. Ken was in the middle of passing Andrew’s guard in the first match of the division when his knee popped 12 seconds in. I haven’t heard how Ken is doing since the injury, but I know I join everyone who saw him at the tournament all the best and a speedy recovery.

Here are a few pics of Andrew’s matches (his girlfriend forgot her camera, so I took some pics and am using them for my own evil purposes before sending them to her). You also get to see some of the other competitors this way. I also meant to get a pic of Jared reffing the pro division; he did a terrific job. All the refs did. But no pics of him this time. I think I was too busy watching.

Andrew adjusting his fight panties, as Heather would say:

Andrew vs. Ken Primola, before the knee injury. Would have been a great match!

Andrew and Mike Easton squaring off. Hey, there's Jared in the blue, reffing!

Andrew and Andre:

Andrew getting punked by Brad Daddis (with his back to camera in STAFF t-shirt) at awards ceremony. No, actually, my camera has a weird delay that I can't figure out how to change, so a split second earlier, Brad was honestly shaking Andrew's hand, congratulating him on his second place finish. Andrew just LOOKS like a big dork with an imaginary friend, who may very well have coached him in his excellent performances.

Amanda and Andrew

Me, Anahi, Amanda. I am a giant.

The tournament was a lot of fun and really well run. I also finally got to meet Steve72, whom I have known for about 4 years on the forum but never actually met in person. He is as funny in person as he is online, and is a terrific ref, as evidenced by the great job he did all day. My first words to him were, “Fuck you, clown!” (See, Steve likes to call people and leave messages explaining the clown joke, a long boring story about a guy with a personal vendetta against clowns. It seriously takes about 5 minutes to tell/listen to. That’s 5 minutes you can never have back.) He, too, claimed credit for my black eye:

In the evening there was a UFC with some pretty good fights, including a barn burner between Tyson Griffin and Frankie Edgar. 155 and under. They pushed the action the entire time; the smaller guys generally have a quicker pace to their matches. Anahi, Rick and I went to Heather’s place; Heather is a blue belt at Balance Studios who also posts on the forum. She lives close to Rittenhouse Square. I’ve known about Rittenhouse Square my entire life from listening to 94.1 WYSP and 93.3 WMMR, Philly classic rock stations that I would blast in my car on the way to and from high school once I got my license (the station headquarters are on RS), but had never actually seen it. On Saturday night I got to see it!

It’s a big square. With grass. And a parking garage on the south end, which was very interesting to me after about 20 minutes of looking for a spot on the street to no avail.

So that was kind of fun, to see it after all these years. I haven’t yet looked for Rocks at Robbins’ at 8th & Walnut, a diamond seller that ran commercials on the above radio stations and on TV, featuring a dude who wore a diamond in his beard (part of the jingle, sung to the tune of Rockin’ Robin, went “Joey has a diamond in his beard/Lots of people think that’s really weird”). Maybe it’s not there anymore, but I’m guessing it’s one of those longstanding businesses that will never go away. Even though the guy with the beard is probably old and infirm by now.

Everything here is very familiar and very new at the same time because I grew up so close by but was away at college by the time I was old enough to spend time getting to know the city. I did come to town periodically in high school to see concerts; my first concert in Philly was the Kinks at the Tower Theater. I’m pretty sure that’s also the first time I drove outside of NJ. I remember it because we had to get gas on the way home. This is notable because in NJ, you don’t pump your own gas. It’s not an option. There are attendants who do it for you. It doesn’t cost more, but it’s a union thing, I think. So having grown up in a state where you never pump your own gas, it was kind of mind blowing for me and my three giggly high school friends to have to do it ourselves.

In fact, we sat at the pump for about 15 minutes before we figured out that nobody was going to wait on us. And then we had to figure out how to work the pump. Not rocket science, but again, not something we had been anticipating. Plus, we were 17 and, as I mentioned before, giggly. So the other customers laughed at us, but we didn’t care. We must have seemed like such prima donnas—don’t they have people to pump the gas?

Another thing that’s familiar is the accent around here. Anahi and I have been trying to imitate it all week; it’s a tough one. Maybe someday I’ll figure out sound bites and post one. Till then, just trust me that the Philly accent is very distinctive.

I’m tooling around in a little red rental car this week. A Chevy Aveo, I think. Coincidentally, it’s the same kind and color as the rental I had when my Toyota was in the body shop after my fender bender on New Year’s Eve. The Chevy Aveo is pretty small, which prompted Britt to call my first one the Speck, and claim that it doesn’t come in colors, but rather flavors. But the old Speck did me right.

And then they gave me one here in Philly too. (Are you sensing a pattern of me renting the cheapest possible car?) It’s little and funny, but it fits snugly into my gym bag and starts right up, even in this bitter cold. In fact, when Rick’s car died on Monday, we used it to get to John Hassett’s academy in New Jersey, and then yesterday morning I drove it up onto the sidewalk to give Rick a jump. So the Speck is badass, even according to Rick, who has his manliness to consider. Here is a picture of the Speck right before I had to say goodbye to it at the rental place. The rental guy was incredulous that I wanted to take a picture. But I'll have that--and the memories--forever.

That’s why it’s too bad I did the Speck wrong yesterday: I left my sweaty training clothes in the trunk, forgetting that they’d be affected by the cold too. They had frost on them this morning, and my sports bra is frozen solid. I have made clothesicles. I won’t be dealing with them until it’s time for laundry, probably tomorrow.

Another word about John Hassett’s: his academy is a converted church, and he is a funny guy and a good teacher. I forgot to get a picture with him. Rick taught the advanced class and showed some fun gi stuff even though he’s way more interested in no gi these days. Truthfully, I am too, though I just like to spar, gi or no gi. Plus, the Pan Ams, the biggest jiu jitsu competition in the US, is coming up at the end of March, and that is gi and no gi, so I need to focus on both. I also need to focus on conditioning a LOT.

Sunday I went with Rick to Balance Studios, which is run by Phil and Rick Migliarese, black belts under Relson Gracie. Phil told me today that Carlson Jr, my teacher, always calls them Mafiosos when he sees them. They play it up by having t-shirts that say The Guardfather (for the civilians, the guard is a basic jiu jitsu position, where one person is lying on his/her back and the other person is on his/her knees. The person on the back wraps his/her legs around the other person and is said to have that person in the guard), with that little puppet logo from The Godfather. They weren’t there that day because they were opening an affiliate academy in Aruba. Tough duty. They were back today, so when Anahi, Heather and I met up with Rick at the open mat at Balance today, I got to meet them and will get to train with them tomorrow night when we all go back. Here is a picture of us: Rick and Phil Migliarese, me, Rick Macauley, and Heather, aka Balance Babe. Now I am a midget.


In the evening on Sunday we went to Rick’s sister Danielle’s place for the SuperBowl. I wasn’t that interested even though the Bears were in it, so I chatted with Anahi, Anahi’s mom, Rick’s mom, Danielle, and Danielle’s mother-in-law Sue. Everyone was very cool and there was all kinds of awesome food. Anahi’s mom and brother have just moved to Philly from Miami, and we’ve run some errands with them in the Speck: bank, groceries, Ikea. Anahi and I also went to the Trader Joe’s in town, both to shop and for me to see if they are hiring. They are always taking applications, but I can’t just fill one out. I need to come in with about a half hour to spare so they can interview me too. So I’ll think about that. I borrowed Anahi’s mom’s computer today to check my email, and had a little chuckle at her George Michael screen savers. She loves the guy.

Last night I trained at BJJ United, Jared’s academy. He showed a cool Americana (shoulder lock) from the north-south position and a nice judo throw. I got to spar with some nice and technical guys, including Jared himself. He gave me some good feedback on a mistake I make consistently as I try to pass the guard using one of my favorite passes. I hung out with him and Flash last night, and this morning Flash tried to hump my leg again. I escaped, though, and Jared took me for breakfast at the South Street Diner. Thanks to Jared for awesome training and great hospitality! (BTW, Sharon is still in Honolulu enjoying warm weather and delicious food; she left first thing in the morning on Saturday. She is dead to me.)

Then it was on to the Italian Market neighborhood where I tried to get some wireless at Anahi’s favorite coffee shop, E’s. It wasn’t working, but soon enough she and Heather showed up, so I shut down and we went to Balance to train, to Tampopo to eat Japanese, to Anahi’s mom’s to check on her and her brother, to Anahi and Rick’s to watch Tucker Carlson, and then to Little Tony Pacenski’s academy in Levittown, PA. Little Tony is a black belt under Rodrigo Medeiros, and his school is part of the BJJ Revolution team, as is Johnny and John’s in Santa Fe Springs. He showed a nice way to set up some sweeps from when the opponent attempts to pass the guard by scooping under the legs.

Here are some pics. Thanks to Little Tony for great training! And for reading my blog; he said he laughed out loud at some of the definitions in the glossary I put together. He also said he wants to add some things to it. So Little Tony, feel free! Send me some more terms and I’ll add them, giving you proper credit, of course.

Me and Little Tony. He's not that little. I guess he's called that b/c he was a kid when he started BJJ.

Heather, Tony, Anahi:

Me, Heather, Tony, and Tony's students Will and Mike:

Then for me, Anahi and Heather it was on to the Ontario Diner for grilled cheese and tomato soup and kind of tasteless chocolate chip cookies (why do those cookies always look better than they taste?), and now here I am. Still in a quandary about what to do/where to live/etc. I guess the good news is that I could truly be happy in either place, LA or Philly. I just don’t know how to decide. I still keep waiting for the hit, and I still keep worrying about why it isn’t coming to me—and about why I need a hit in the first place. But I have more than 2 weeks left on this leg of the trip, and a lot can happen in that time. So I’m just enjoying myself immensely—and that is a fact—and looking forward to going to DC to see other friends, Wisconsin for the tournament, and Chicago to see still other friends.

I’m realizing that I like being relatively free, with no job, no worries about BJJ politics, etc. I like being able to do what I want, just like Cartman. Maybe part of why I’m scared/reluctant to commit to a place is because I’m worried that I will lose that freedom. I know I’ll need to choose an academy and stick with it for the most part, but that’s okay. I’m ready for that, I think. Especially if I end up in a place like LA or Philly where the BJJ scene seems to be pretty tightly knit, so even if you don’t train regularly in a certain place, you can still be friendly with the people who do. I also know that I will need to bring money to me in some way. I intend for that not to be a huge cramp in my style, and now just need to figure out how to make it happen.

And as for the issue about LA being so far away, Felicia told me that she thought at least some of that was in my head. And she’s right. Some of it feels real, but I’m sure some of it is just fear of starting over in a new place, and the distance factor just seems like something easy to grab onto. That’s important to keep in mind when I’m thinking about my plans. I intend to make my decision for the right reasons—joy and excitement—rather than the wrong ones—fear and anxiety.

Well, I may not be any closer to a resolution, but I sure am having a damn good time, notwithstanding the fact that I have already died about 5 times from frostbite. So tomorrow’s going to be another great day: I’m here at Anahi and Rick’s and will do some planning for the DC part of my trip, maybe train with them in the afternoon, drink some tea, make a pro and con list for Philly and LA, and train with them at Balance in the evening. And then it’s on to DC for about a week, where I’ll darken Julie and Patrick’s door, train at various places, and try to stay warm before heading to Wisconsin.

And I’ll calmly await the “hit” about what my next step should be. Well, I’ll await it, at least. “Calmly” may be a bit of a tall order.

It's farging freezing

Having a GREAT time in Philly save for the small matter of the cold that will kill me if I stay out in it too long. Single digit temps and below zero wind chills. Holy mother of God.

Anahi, Rick, and Jared are showing me a fabulous time. There was a cool tournament on Sat and I got to train yesterday and today with Rick and Anahi. Tomorrow the plan is to train with Jared.

Right now I'm on kind of an iffy connection, so I'm writing a longer post offline, complete with photos, and will try to make it to a coffee shop with wireless to get it posted.

I'm also still on LA time, so my body clock is all confused, or as Carlson used to say, "confooz." I'm up now and likely to sleep till 11 or 11:30 if I have my way, but we got stuff to do tomorrow, so I may not have my way.

Still no real certainty about where to live. I think some of it might just be that I need to pick a place and commit to it. I'm not sorry I came out here, though. I'm having a terrific time, and I think one of the purposes of the trip was to show me that 1) I can build a life in more than one place and 2) anyplace I build a life will have some aspects of familiarity and some things that are foreign.

That's a pretty good lesson. Now I just need to decide which coast to land on. Or, as some of my friends keep saying, maybe I don't. But I'm ready to, or so I believe. So we'll see how the rest of the time here goes.

More later; now it's time to huddle under blankets, maybe burn some furniture, maybe kill a tauntaun, cut it open, and get inside to be warmed by the steaming innards. (They were called tauntauns, right?)

RIP Carlson Gracie and headed to Philly

I haven't come up with an appropriate memorial statement for Grandmaster Carlson Gracie, my BJJ teacher, who passed away a year ago today (Feb 1, 2006). That was a terrible day, starting with a hysterical phone call from Natasha telling me the news. I was in the passageway between the train and my office. Then I got absolutely nothing done at work, as I spent the day on the phone and on the message boards. And the rest of the week it was more of the same, with a viewing (they laid him out in his gi and his black belt, with a red belt coiled near his hands--red belts are reserved for only the absolute top instructors and fighters, of which Carlson was undisputably one, but he'd never wear a red belt because he said they were for old people), a memorial service, and the interment of half of his ashes in a cemetery in Evanston (the other half went back to Rio, where he was born). And there was lots of crying.

God. I know death is a part of life, but it's kind of a sucky part.

There is a very nice video tribute to him at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPSCtjzco7M. There will also be a memorial service for him in Chicago, which I'm disappointed to miss. But I will be there in spirit, of course, as will he. Carlson, thank you for touching my life in so many ways. Rest in peace. I’m so grateful to have had you as a teacher and a friend.

I got up early today to catch my flight to Philly. Sitting in LAX right now, and Sharon, Jared, and Flash are expecting me on the other end, which is nice to know. I'll be gone from LA until the 24th: Philly till the 9th (including a tournament in New Jersey), DC till the 15th, Wisconsin till the 18th for the US Grappling tournament, and Chicago till the 24th. It should be a great trip, and I'm feeling confident now that I will learn my next step while I’m there. So I'll just enjoy the ride. Had another "sign" yesterday: ate with Vince, Johnny and Sean at a restaurant in Whittier called Rocky Cola, and noticed that it is on Philadelphia Avenue. Every time I looked up from my breakfast burrito, I saw the street sign out the window. So I'm supposed to go to Philadelphia, and sooner or later I'll learn why. And if I’m supposed to be back in LA, well, no harm no foul. I’ll know for sure (or at least for sure-r), and will have had yet another traveling adventure before really settling down.

Meantime, I'm EXHAUSTED. Did two classes last night, and both of them started with cardio conditioning. I won't enumerate all the drills we did, but one notable one is this crazy thing where your partner stands and keeps his/her balance while you jump guard (wrap your legs around him/her, facing him/her). From there, you have to climb around him/her like a monkey without letting your feet touch the ground. Try it. It's really tiring. I was clinging to Steve, my good-natured partner, like a koala bear. It’s difficult for the person who’s holding you up too; s/he has to stand there and keep his/her balance while you shift your entire body weight around their body. I was able to keep my balance while Lili climbed around me, so that’s cool. She also weighs about 10 pounds less than me, so that could have something to do with it.

The good thing is that after all the conditioning, I was so tired during sparring that I had to rely completely on technique. So I actually pulled off a cool half-guard sweep that Johnny showed me on Tues, multiple times, on multiple belt levels. I really like that one and will definitely be able to incorporate it into my game, even when I’m not tired.

In other news, I have yet another black eye, which I may have mentioned. Errant elbow from sparring on Sunday, though it was literally just a tap on the cheekbone. I swear, all you have to do is breathe on me and I bruise. But only on the face. So it’s another couple weeks of enduring people’s sympathetic and frightened looks, which frequently confuse me because I forget about the shiner until I see myself in the mirror.

So that’s an interesting contrast to my new haircut. Johnny’s student Peter is studying to be a hairstylist at Toni & Guy, which is apparently a really big salon chain. He needed a hair model for a class he was doing, and I desperately needed a haircut (when Peter saw me a couple weeks ago, I didn’t have the shiner, but he gave me the same kind of look, which I’m assuming is because I had a huge hairdon’t), so I went in on Monday and he cut my hair while his instructor supervised. It took almost 3 hours, but we chatted the whole time and it was fun. It looks really good when I take care of it, but when I don’t, like this morning (I slept on it wet and didn’t wash it again this morning), it makes me look like Leather Tuscadero. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. And I found out that he got 8/10! Congrats, Peter, and thanks again for the great haircut! I have a before pic, and once I have showered again, I’ll take an after one too.

Tuesday I had lunch with Felicia and Britt. It was rainy in LA. People in LA treat rain the way people in colder climates treat snow: if you can stay off the highways, you just stick close to home. If you have to go out, you allow tons of extra time, make sure you leave lots of distance between you and the car in front of you, and just generally act like a giant sissy. I guess you just deal with what you’re used to, even if it’s being wimpy about rain. It took me an hour and a half to travel about 20 miles. But we bought shoes, and that’s always good.

Yesterday was packing for my trip. In addition to Johnny putting up some prize money on behalf of New Breed for the superfight that will take place at the Milwaukee tourney between Jeff Glover and Fredson Paixao (for the civilians out there, this fight is along the lines of Ali-Foreman or the Superbowl and is kind of a cool old- vs. new-guard thing; Jeff is about 22 and American, and Fredson is in his early 30s and Brazilian), Ouano donated a bunch of schwag: rashguards & board shorts for the winners of the superfight and the pro divisions, t-shirts, hats, belts, etc. Needless to say, their generosity is pretty sweet. So I crammed all that stuff into a carryon bag and then had to cram my own things into my training bag, including 2 gis and gear for no gi, which take up a crapload of room, not to mention my “normal” clothes.

And then it was crazy conditioning classes, dinner at midnight, and crashing till about 6:30 this morning. And here I am, a beat-up Suzy Quattro lookalike just realizing that the muzak track that just finished playing here in the boarding area was If She Knew What She Wants by the Bangles. That sounds kind of fitting.

Well, I know what I want. I want to be happy. And as a wise woman told me recently, “Finding happiness is hard. And most people just stop looking.” So I guess I just suck it up that happiness is elusive sometimes. But I also intend to figure out when happiness just takes a little extra work in the place I am right now, and when it really is clear across the country. This trip should provide some clarity on that. I’ll keep everyone posted.