Tears, Tempers, Tiaras, Tylenol.
OH, I feel it, a snuffly wuffly teary smeary sensation. As I gather my bag up and make sure I have taken some pre-Memnoch painkillers, my heart is heavy.
Today is my last class with Memnoch, that vicious being who mocks me, rolls his eyes at me, and-on occasion- puts me in hospital with concussion. Here is a man, a cold stone brute of a man, who quite frankly, let's not beat around the bush here, does not really like teaching women and thinks we are too pathetic to be in his dojo, and I'm upset over his departure.
At the start of my path with Memnoch I was outraged by this sexist nonsense. Furious over his confident air that we ladies wouldn't last long and that he was only humouring us by letting us stay. There were five of us ladies and anything the lads could do we could do! I said it so it must be so!!
As the months progressed there was ample time for me to reconsider those views.
As the five whittled down to four, then three, then just me and Claire I was forced to deal with something my brain refused to accept but my body already knew.
Memnoch was right. Memnoch is always right.
Once I had learned this the hard way- rounds with the Canadian flinging me about lie a rag doll, pad holding for Memnoch, where he would strike the pad so hard I would be forced backwards and my head would ache at the sheer force of the blow, conditioning where after circut laps my leaden legs would wobble and my bile rise, occasional ceiling watching-I felt liberated. I started to accept other things too, Most men are stronger than us, so what? We have only one third of their testerone, of course they are! We're not in direct competition with each other.
How liberating.
No longer did I worry about being tougher than the lads. Claire and I shut out yaps and decided to learn what Memnoch had to teach us. And new calm washed over me.
And now, having broken us and rebuilt us, our master, our tormentor, the man we -male and female alike- respect deeply, fear greatly, and bow to equally deeply- is leaving us.
For sodding Hamburg.
If he notices I am a bit teary today I will tell him there is something in my eye. Like Claire's fist for example. He'll like that.
Stupid change.
I am totally and utterly against it.
Today is my last class with Memnoch, that vicious being who mocks me, rolls his eyes at me, and-on occasion- puts me in hospital with concussion. Here is a man, a cold stone brute of a man, who quite frankly, let's not beat around the bush here, does not really like teaching women and thinks we are too pathetic to be in his dojo, and I'm upset over his departure.
At the start of my path with Memnoch I was outraged by this sexist nonsense. Furious over his confident air that we ladies wouldn't last long and that he was only humouring us by letting us stay. There were five of us ladies and anything the lads could do we could do! I said it so it must be so!!
As the months progressed there was ample time for me to reconsider those views.
As the five whittled down to four, then three, then just me and Claire I was forced to deal with something my brain refused to accept but my body already knew.
Memnoch was right. Memnoch is always right.
Once I had learned this the hard way- rounds with the Canadian flinging me about lie a rag doll, pad holding for Memnoch, where he would strike the pad so hard I would be forced backwards and my head would ache at the sheer force of the blow, conditioning where after circut laps my leaden legs would wobble and my bile rise, occasional ceiling watching-I felt liberated. I started to accept other things too, Most men are stronger than us, so what? We have only one third of their testerone, of course they are! We're not in direct competition with each other.
How liberating.
No longer did I worry about being tougher than the lads. Claire and I shut out yaps and decided to learn what Memnoch had to teach us. And new calm washed over me.
And now, having broken us and rebuilt us, our master, our tormentor, the man we -male and female alike- respect deeply, fear greatly, and bow to equally deeply- is leaving us.
For sodding Hamburg.
If he notices I am a bit teary today I will tell him there is something in my eye. Like Claire's fist for example. He'll like that.
Stupid change.
I am totally and utterly against it.
posted by fatmammycat at 9:42 a.m.
17 Comments:
Change is never easy but the trick is not to see it as lngative Ie losing a master but see it as positive you will have a new teacher and be all the more eager to prove yourself. Of course that is a load of tripe all change does is cause hassle and discomfort. Like Me and My good wife planning our move home, firstly it is saying good bye to friends, Saying good bye to the sun shine, the great food, no traffic jams and no taxes. On the flip side it is saying hello Longford, Hello half my salary going to the Government and hello rain nearly every day. Sod that I am staying , No bombs going to drive me away from Lebanon.
Hamburg is the most boring city in Europe, makes Brussels seem exciting. He'll be back, you wuss!
Ah, you're just like Daniel-san when Mister Miyagi married that Vegas showgirl and moved to Bangkok. You are now truly a sensei.
I never saw a dame yet that didn't understand a good slap in the mouth or a slug from a .45
- The Humphry Bogart character in Woody Allan's Play it Again, Sam
Welp, with any luck, you'll get a replacement who's even more sadistic.
I take it all back, the bastard half killed us...something for us to remember him by. My left arse cheek is numb and I seem to have bitten half the tip of my tongue off.
Sigh, I'll miss him so.
MacDara! Are you returning to our fair shores? When might this be now?
Let me see , Well the house should be finished being built June, Few months to do the inside, One last Summer here, All being equal I'd say we will be leaving around November.Of course the way things are going that date is moveable.
Oi! Brussels isn't that bad... I live here!
It's better than bloody Dundalk though, that's for sure.
Yikes, that's going to be some change. No beer in the swimming pool for one.
Hey, I"ve just noticed my right knee is really sore and starting to swell slightly. Oh Memnoch...we hardly knew ye!
If you walloped him one on the way out, I think he'd know you cared.
These poor/lucky Germans.
No Swimming pool ....
You'll always have this to remember him by:
The Cat is Back!
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