Let me start with a passage from perhaps my all time favorite television show, Sports Night.
Dan:Because nobody ever throws a haymaker.
Casey: Steven Green does.
Dan: Who's Steven Green?
Casey: Kid who beat me up in third grade.
Dan: He threw a haymaker?
Casey: Gave me a fat lip.
Dan: With a haymaker?
Casey: Yeah.
Dan: Shoulda seen it coming.
Casey: He also kicked, and, you know, there's
no defense for that.
I bring this up because last night I learned first hand that at least someone throws a haymaker. In fact one was thrown at me. For your edification a haymaker is , "A punch in which the arm is whipped sideways from the shoulder joint with minimal elbow bend".
Here's the story:
Last night I was working baxi. I was taking two girls back to their flat. We were in a quiet area and passed 4 young guys. One of the reach out and grabbed one of the girls breasts as we were going by. I cleverly responded, "Get off you fucking rapist". He did not take especially kindly to that. He jogged to approach us and I stopped the cab. I told the girls they should just start walking and not worry about paying. They didn't heed my suggestion and stayed there. The kid put up his fists. I didn't particullarly feel like fighting but what can you do. Luckily I don't think homeboy was much of a fighter. He went for the haymaker on the first punch, a rather poor strategy, it's a bit more of a finisher. Surprising myself more than anyone I rather deftly blocked in with my left arm. Now I don't consider myself I fighter either but at that point it would have been pretty easy to pop him in the nose. Fortunately, I restrained myself. His friends at this point, perhaps a bit embarressed by the actions of their friend pulled him away. In the end the girls got back in the cab and I rode them home.
There's a reason no one throws a haymaker.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Crazy
For some time Blake has been telling me that all women are crazy. For the majority of that time I disagreed. I maintained that there were some level headed, grounded, sane women out there. It's not often I admit that I was wrong, but I was. All women are insane. I'm okay with it though.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
A baxi driver and a prostitute walk into a bar...
So I had a bit of a strange end to my night yesterday. It was around 315am. Only Pjay and I were still working, we figured we'd keep going until things slowed down. A women seemed to want to get a ride but her male friend wasn't interested. eventually she jumped in and told me to follow him. We caught up to him and he begrudgingly got in, though he was good spirited about it. They asked me to take them to CJ's. I hadn't heard of it, but they told me where it was and it was close. When we arrived I saw it was a pink building with a a pink neon sign. It looked like a small bar, Wellington has plenty. They said I should come up for a drink, that she worked there. At first I said no, but they insisted and I aquiesed.
I locked up my bike and then went inside, they had already gone in. I had to walk up some stairs and through a door. When I went through there I had to go through yet another door which I had to be buzzed through which sufficed to say I found strange. I thought that maybe it was a strip club, it wouldn't be the first time I had been invited for a drink at a strip club while working (thanks Dreamgirls). When I went in it didn't look quite like a strip club, or a normal bar for that matter. There was a small bar, maybe 4 or 5 seats, a small cooler with some beers and other drinks and a small selection of liquor. There was also a few couches and a pool table in the back. Looking around more there also seemed to be a number of doors leading to small rooms. The place was almost empty save two women, both 55 years old if they were a day. One of the women got me a Heineken and there was some brief confusion before she realized that it was supposed to be free. Then the guy I came in with confirmed what I had at this point suspected; for the first time in my life I was in a brothel. Very strange.
Then for some unknown reason, though I suppose I can venture a guess, the man and women I arrived with left. I still had a 3/4 of my beer so I figured it was time to start up some conversation. I started talking to women sitting with me at the bar. I guessed she was 55-60, wearing a revealing dress and stockings and had a presumably surgically enhanced chest. We started by discussing the recent slowness in our respective occupations. This turned into a converstion about the many ways being a baxi driver is similar to being a prosititute. There were actually a lot of these though many of them could probobly have applied to a lot of jobs. In the end our jobs were both predicated on the people we intereacted with that night. We talked about all the great people we get to meet and having to deal with the not so great ones. It was a good conversation. I finished my beer and left. The brothel. Weird.
I locked up my bike and then went inside, they had already gone in. I had to walk up some stairs and through a door. When I went through there I had to go through yet another door which I had to be buzzed through which sufficed to say I found strange. I thought that maybe it was a strip club, it wouldn't be the first time I had been invited for a drink at a strip club while working (thanks Dreamgirls). When I went in it didn't look quite like a strip club, or a normal bar for that matter. There was a small bar, maybe 4 or 5 seats, a small cooler with some beers and other drinks and a small selection of liquor. There was also a few couches and a pool table in the back. Looking around more there also seemed to be a number of doors leading to small rooms. The place was almost empty save two women, both 55 years old if they were a day. One of the women got me a Heineken and there was some brief confusion before she realized that it was supposed to be free. Then the guy I came in with confirmed what I had at this point suspected; for the first time in my life I was in a brothel. Very strange.
Then for some unknown reason, though I suppose I can venture a guess, the man and women I arrived with left. I still had a 3/4 of my beer so I figured it was time to start up some conversation. I started talking to women sitting with me at the bar. I guessed she was 55-60, wearing a revealing dress and stockings and had a presumably surgically enhanced chest. We started by discussing the recent slowness in our respective occupations. This turned into a converstion about the many ways being a baxi driver is similar to being a prosititute. There were actually a lot of these though many of them could probobly have applied to a lot of jobs. In the end our jobs were both predicated on the people we intereacted with that night. We talked about all the great people we get to meet and having to deal with the not so great ones. It was a good conversation. I finished my beer and left. The brothel. Weird.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Sisu
As some of you know a while back I decided I wanted to run a marathon while I was in New Zealand. Looking at what the options there were I made an ambitious choice of marathon. It was an off-road marathon called the Motatapu Icebreaker. Unlike most marathons it isn't flat but runs over hills and other challenging terrain. You have to carry water and a rain jacket with you as aid stations can be as far as eight miles away. I had never run a marathon before, in fact I had never raced more than two miles. Still I had always had good endurance and it wasn't until March. I would be traveling during February but that still left me 3.5 months to train in Wellington and then I could just maintain while traveling. I knew it would be hard but I thought I could do it.
Unfortunatly not everything went as planned. Three weeks into training I went to an Ultimate tournament and banged up my knees pretty good. I had meant to take it easy, I knew that this was a risk with my knees. Besides I did not care that much about the tournament. However I have never been good at holding back when I play Ultimate. I don't say that with pride, I wish it weren't the case. I've played with great players that had that switch, that knew when it was worth it to throw your body around, to do whatever it took, but also knew when it wasn't. It was a lesson I never learned, I could never turn it off. I wish that hadn't been the case. It made me a worse player, and it didn't help my team. My only regrets from my college career were the times when I had to watch big games from the sideline after hurting myself in games I didn't need to. In 2007 I dislocated my shoulder in a game we were dominating trying desperately to make a grab, only to watch injured, as we lost two games by one point. Although I've gotten better it is still something I have to learn and because of that weekend and the fact that I was commited to playing through mid December my knees couldn't take long distance running.
So for the last two months I didn't run at all outside of on the ultimate field. A great workout but not at all the kind of training that helps one prepare for a marathon. So seeing as how I had trained for three weeks then stopped for two months I was effectively back at square one. I figured it might still be possible to still do it so I decided I would run for a while and if by the Jan 30 deadline I felt like I had come far enough I would register. I thought my knees were finally ready so yesterday I went on a 'tester' run of about 30 minutes to see how my knees felt. It went well so I went on a longer run tonight. A good way into the run I started thinking about my knees. They were holding up well on a pretty long run that included a good amount of uphill and downhill. I can't say they felt absolutely great but I haven't been able to say that about my knees in years and I don't know if I ever will be able to again. Still, they were strong enough. With that information I had to admit to myself that the question had ceased to be, "Can I do this?" and had become "Will I do this?". It was a tough question. I didn't have near the kind of time I had originally planned. Sure I knew I could finish the marathon, but that wouldn't be enough. Obviously I am not going to win this thing or even come close. Still, my performance mattered a great deal to me. I don't like losing but I cannot stand for being embarresed. If I run, I want to run a race I can feel proud of. That would take a lot. And this run, nowhere near what I was looking at was well, hard.
Then I started thinking of the word written on my chest. My only tattoo. The word 'Sisu'. Ever since I got the tattoo people have inevitably asked what it means. Most people get the briefest of answers or none at all. Even to my closest friends and family I have never gone into the full explanation of what it means to me for fear of embarrising myself. I can tell some people really do want to know though. I figure now is as good a time as any to explain.
Sisu is a Finish word not directly translatable into English. Different people associate different English words with it; grit, toughness, guts, bravery, courage, stubborness, or sometimes longer phrases. In the end it seems that it is a word that simply means different things to different people. The one that resonates with me and is what the word means to me is, 'The will to resist'. The people I have told this often ask, "Resist what?". This is the part I usually don't elaborate on.
I am someone who believes that life is a series of choices. Some larger, some smaller in significance. In every decision there is a path of least resistance, an easiest choice and then other choices that are more difficult. Sometimes the least resistive choice is the right one, often it's not. What defines our lives is whether we have the will to resist, the sisu as it were, to make the harder choice, so that even if we do in the end choose the easier, it is because it is the right choice. Sometimes it is something simple. Maybe you are hiking and you have to choose between a higher, more difficult path, or a lower easier one. Sometimes it is much more complicated.
I hope, when I am an old man, that I will have been a good man who lived a good life. This may seem like a simple thing but it is not to me. I believe that most people are alright people who lived okay lives. That is fine. It just isn't what I want. I think living a good life or being a good man (neither of which I am close to having achieved) will neccesitate me making very hard choices many times from here to there. To be a great man or live a great life requires yet more and I think it is very possible that I have already taken the low road far too many times in my life to achieve those things. I often think of the times where I took the less resistive path when I knew it wasn't the right one, or convinced myself it was. Times I didn't train hard enough, didn't work hard enough on something I cared about, didn't help someone I could have, didn't take a chance with a girl. Times where I didn't have enough sisu. Those are the events that we call regrets. I think back to them and know that to be who I want to be and live the life I want to live I can never be so weak again.
This marathon was one of those choices. The path of less resistance was to call it a little bad luck, maybe do a half marathon, and maybe do a full down the road when I have more time to prepare. I thought about the word on my chest and knew that that wasn't the right choice, only the easier. So when I made it home, exhausted I registered for the marathon. I knew it would require a good deal of commitment and sacrifice. I would have to make it my biggest priority for the rest of my time in Wellingtona and continue to train while traveling. I would need to eat better, miss out on other things I would like to do, and train very very hard. It was the first choice, and the biggest, but not the hardest.
I've found, often it isn't that big choices that are the truly hard ones, it is the small. It is easy to finish a run, get excited and decide you are going to run a marathon. It is much harder to go run for three hours after a long day when you really don't want to. It is a lot harder to turn down the pizza you are craving for the beans and vegetables you aren't. It is a lot harder to tell the girl you just started dating that you can't see her that night, that you need to train instead. These things are hard for the very reason that they are small and easier to dismiss. It is these decisions that will truly test my sisu and determine how I perform in this chapter of my life. I would say that I hope I can do it, but it isn't a matter of if I can do it. It is only a matter of if I will.
Joey
Unfortunatly not everything went as planned. Three weeks into training I went to an Ultimate tournament and banged up my knees pretty good. I had meant to take it easy, I knew that this was a risk with my knees. Besides I did not care that much about the tournament. However I have never been good at holding back when I play Ultimate. I don't say that with pride, I wish it weren't the case. I've played with great players that had that switch, that knew when it was worth it to throw your body around, to do whatever it took, but also knew when it wasn't. It was a lesson I never learned, I could never turn it off. I wish that hadn't been the case. It made me a worse player, and it didn't help my team. My only regrets from my college career were the times when I had to watch big games from the sideline after hurting myself in games I didn't need to. In 2007 I dislocated my shoulder in a game we were dominating trying desperately to make a grab, only to watch injured, as we lost two games by one point. Although I've gotten better it is still something I have to learn and because of that weekend and the fact that I was commited to playing through mid December my knees couldn't take long distance running.
So for the last two months I didn't run at all outside of on the ultimate field. A great workout but not at all the kind of training that helps one prepare for a marathon. So seeing as how I had trained for three weeks then stopped for two months I was effectively back at square one. I figured it might still be possible to still do it so I decided I would run for a while and if by the Jan 30 deadline I felt like I had come far enough I would register. I thought my knees were finally ready so yesterday I went on a 'tester' run of about 30 minutes to see how my knees felt. It went well so I went on a longer run tonight. A good way into the run I started thinking about my knees. They were holding up well on a pretty long run that included a good amount of uphill and downhill. I can't say they felt absolutely great but I haven't been able to say that about my knees in years and I don't know if I ever will be able to again. Still, they were strong enough. With that information I had to admit to myself that the question had ceased to be, "Can I do this?" and had become "Will I do this?". It was a tough question. I didn't have near the kind of time I had originally planned. Sure I knew I could finish the marathon, but that wouldn't be enough. Obviously I am not going to win this thing or even come close. Still, my performance mattered a great deal to me. I don't like losing but I cannot stand for being embarresed. If I run, I want to run a race I can feel proud of. That would take a lot. And this run, nowhere near what I was looking at was well, hard.
Then I started thinking of the word written on my chest. My only tattoo. The word 'Sisu'. Ever since I got the tattoo people have inevitably asked what it means. Most people get the briefest of answers or none at all. Even to my closest friends and family I have never gone into the full explanation of what it means to me for fear of embarrising myself. I can tell some people really do want to know though. I figure now is as good a time as any to explain.
Sisu is a Finish word not directly translatable into English. Different people associate different English words with it; grit, toughness, guts, bravery, courage, stubborness, or sometimes longer phrases. In the end it seems that it is a word that simply means different things to different people. The one that resonates with me and is what the word means to me is, 'The will to resist'. The people I have told this often ask, "Resist what?". This is the part I usually don't elaborate on.
I am someone who believes that life is a series of choices. Some larger, some smaller in significance. In every decision there is a path of least resistance, an easiest choice and then other choices that are more difficult. Sometimes the least resistive choice is the right one, often it's not. What defines our lives is whether we have the will to resist, the sisu as it were, to make the harder choice, so that even if we do in the end choose the easier, it is because it is the right choice. Sometimes it is something simple. Maybe you are hiking and you have to choose between a higher, more difficult path, or a lower easier one. Sometimes it is much more complicated.
I hope, when I am an old man, that I will have been a good man who lived a good life. This may seem like a simple thing but it is not to me. I believe that most people are alright people who lived okay lives. That is fine. It just isn't what I want. I think living a good life or being a good man (neither of which I am close to having achieved) will neccesitate me making very hard choices many times from here to there. To be a great man or live a great life requires yet more and I think it is very possible that I have already taken the low road far too many times in my life to achieve those things. I often think of the times where I took the less resistive path when I knew it wasn't the right one, or convinced myself it was. Times I didn't train hard enough, didn't work hard enough on something I cared about, didn't help someone I could have, didn't take a chance with a girl. Times where I didn't have enough sisu. Those are the events that we call regrets. I think back to them and know that to be who I want to be and live the life I want to live I can never be so weak again.
This marathon was one of those choices. The path of less resistance was to call it a little bad luck, maybe do a half marathon, and maybe do a full down the road when I have more time to prepare. I thought about the word on my chest and knew that that wasn't the right choice, only the easier. So when I made it home, exhausted I registered for the marathon. I knew it would require a good deal of commitment and sacrifice. I would have to make it my biggest priority for the rest of my time in Wellingtona and continue to train while traveling. I would need to eat better, miss out on other things I would like to do, and train very very hard. It was the first choice, and the biggest, but not the hardest.
I've found, often it isn't that big choices that are the truly hard ones, it is the small. It is easy to finish a run, get excited and decide you are going to run a marathon. It is much harder to go run for three hours after a long day when you really don't want to. It is a lot harder to turn down the pizza you are craving for the beans and vegetables you aren't. It is a lot harder to tell the girl you just started dating that you can't see her that night, that you need to train instead. These things are hard for the very reason that they are small and easier to dismiss. It is these decisions that will truly test my sisu and determine how I perform in this chapter of my life. I would say that I hope I can do it, but it isn't a matter of if I can do it. It is only a matter of if I will.
Joey
Saturday, January 3, 2009
I need to be quicker
For the second time in a row now I've meant to ask a girl out on a date and been beaten to the punch. It seems like a foolish thing to be upset about, but I think I need to get better at asking girls out. I need the practice. I guess I have to stop being such a wuss and ask sooner. Too afraid of rejection I suppose. Either way I've got a coffee date tomorrow with a women name Fluer. She's a secondary school teacher (a kiwi). We met tonight, I gave her and a friend a baxi ride. Were meeting for coffee tomorrow at my favorite cafe, Astoria. Hope it goes well.
Joey
Joey
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Could I do it?
If the holidays do nothing else they certainly make us think of the people in our lives. This is usually for one of two reasons: either because we are with those people or away from them. That statement may seem rather absurd. Obviously at all times we are either near or away from people. What makes the holidays unique is that suddenly we become acutely aware of it. If we are near them we interact in a much more personal and focused way than normal. There are meals together which we attach special significance to, gift giving, all sorts of merriment. We travel great distances to be together bearing financial burden, awful airports, long drives. If we are away from each other than we go to special lengths to be in some kind of contact. We make sure to call or write even if we haven't for months. We make others a priority even if only for a few moments. Even if we are used to being away from people we can't help but think of them in these times.
Although I have never been good at keeping in contact I miss people terribly when I don't see them for a while. It is very hard for me. That being said part of what I like most about getting away from everything is that it makes me appreciate what I've left behind and what I am coming back to, particularly my friends and family. Those are the key words the, 'coming back to'. No matter where I've gone and what I've done I've always been coming back. Even though I don't know exactly what I'm doing when I get back to the states, I know I'm coming back.
It's got to me thinking, could I really just leave it all behind? I've always liked to fancy myself someone that could go anywhere, could set up shop wherever I pleased and make it work. Sure I would miss people but I could always make new friends, and anywhere I went I'd have me. I'm not so sure anymore. Even out here, with some of my best friends in the world, some of the people truly closest to me it's hard. There's still the people I left behind. I talk to my friend Stephanie out in Spain and how hard it is for her to be away from her friends and family, but that's her right not me, I'd be fine, right? 2 or 3 years ago I would have thought so, now I really don't know.
Joey
Although I have never been good at keeping in contact I miss people terribly when I don't see them for a while. It is very hard for me. That being said part of what I like most about getting away from everything is that it makes me appreciate what I've left behind and what I am coming back to, particularly my friends and family. Those are the key words the, 'coming back to'. No matter where I've gone and what I've done I've always been coming back. Even though I don't know exactly what I'm doing when I get back to the states, I know I'm coming back.
It's got to me thinking, could I really just leave it all behind? I've always liked to fancy myself someone that could go anywhere, could set up shop wherever I pleased and make it work. Sure I would miss people but I could always make new friends, and anywhere I went I'd have me. I'm not so sure anymore. Even out here, with some of my best friends in the world, some of the people truly closest to me it's hard. There's still the people I left behind. I talk to my friend Stephanie out in Spain and how hard it is for her to be away from her friends and family, but that's her right not me, I'd be fine, right? 2 or 3 years ago I would have thought so, now I really don't know.
Joey
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