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Children of Men"
Truth in fiction? With articles about decreased sperm count in men living in industrialized countries, hormone-laden food affecting our kids' development, and now inadvertent cocktails of every drug ever administered forming from human bodily waste that filters into our water supply... One figures that whatever eventually happens in reality will defy and exceed even the extreme speculation in movies like this one.
Really, really good movie. Nihilistic as hell (until the 'morrow at the end), but very accurate depictions of human reactions under stress.
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Ξ August 27th, 2003 | → Comments Off | ∇ Fitness / HEMA |
Had another epiphanic realization on the road of personal growth — my friends are swordsmen!
I was watching Chris Cunningham skirmishing with Steve Palmer a couple weekends ago.
Chris was making excellent use of cover, using the parry-to-guard with the Guard of the Woman, and making countercuts at Steve. There was no shame in being clobbered by Steve 2 out of 3 times. :)
Pretty soon, they’ll be smooth as butter, and then it’ll be time for me to stop teaching them new stuff, and start drilling myself against them.
Today’s entry suffers from multiple personality disorder, and covers everything but the kitchen sink.
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As I type, I can count at least six fresh bruises in varying stages of flowering.
Considering the number of times people have recently tried to hit me, I think I should be glad it’s only six bruises, and only one of which is particularly debilitating.
That one was self-inflicted.
So I’m fencing, right? Rapier and dagger for once, something with which I’m somewhat unfamiliar, since I’ve been focusing on single sword techniques.
I keep my dagger in guard, and on David’s lunge on the inside, I parry with my rapier into quarta, fully intending to pass the parry and bind to my dagger and subsequently make my own counterthrust.
The Right-Hand Committee failed, however, to take note of the Left-Hand Committee’s frantic memos and updates on its most recent spatial coordinates.
My dagger weighs about 1.5 lbs, and my rapier weighs about 2.5 lbs — both heavier than some of my metal-working hammers. I slammed them together with about the force that an angry teenager exerts on the typical bedroom door. …With my thumb being an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire.
I spent 15 minutes thereafter with my newfound best friend — a bag of frozen peas. My thumb’s just now flowering nicely into shades of green and purple down just past the second knuckle.
And just last week, I punched myself in the knee with my quillon on a low parry.
I consider these lessons well-learned. But where do I stand skillwise? I certainly don’t feel skilled…
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In a freak occurrence last night, the weather actually stayed nice for fencing practice. The 84°F (well, 29°C, but I did a quick conversion) evening was an unexpected and very welcome treat — Kevin and I drilled rapier lunges and counterthrusts until he couldn’t hold his weapon steady anymore. The cool breezes kept us going for significantly longer than we normally go — I think we got in 200 repetitions of our drills.
In the post-practice wind-down, someone had brought Woodchuck cider. We tweaked that old tongue-twister a little: “How much beer could a woodchuck chug if a woodchuck could chug beer?” It turns out that the alternating voiced and unvoiced velar plosives (k and g) cause some major havoc with pronunciation, whether or not one’s motor skills are alcohol-impaired.
I handled an Irish blackthorn walking stick last night. Heady stuff. Light, slim, gnarled, and capable of turning a backsword (which is why shilleleaghs were illegal in England for 5 centuries). I also had the chance to examine some very fine modern knives, but I have little taste for modern stuff. I mean, I only have reproduction weapons (no antiques), but they’re all rooted in history. But then, when you get down to it, the knife dates back to being one of the first weapons / tools Man ever created 40,000 years ago. About the only thing more historical is the Stick(tm).
Read on for a tip on how not to seek employment. Your mileage may vary (YMMV).
Since I don’t believe this blog has any way to link to the archived entry (and the fellow doesn’t seem to have any interest in further updates), I’m cribbing a passage from his entries:
2132 :: Thursday, June 20, 2002
First things first.
Okay–the job. As I promised last night. I am indeed employed again, though I won’t start for a couple of weeks. Why the delay? Well, I discovered a few years back that it’s much, much, much easier to find a new job when people think you’re already employed than when they think you’ve been laid off. Being unemployed has a taint that’s very difficult to shake off. So when I went on the multiple interviews for this position, I naturally told them I was still working but, you know, I really want a better job. More responsibility and growth, I’ve gotten all I can out of this one, yada, yada, yada. Luckily they bought it (partly because I had all my references cued in to what I needed them to say). But when it came down to the offer, I had to, of course, pretend to give my “current” employer two weeks notice. So.
The weird thing is, this really is a step up. I was seriously concerned about the salary, which made me worried about what story I was going to concoct about why I was taking a pay cut to change jobs, but I guess I had them sold enough on my skills and potential that they not only matched my “current” salary but even bumped it up.
Anyway. Word to the wise: Never tell prospective employers that you’ve been canned, if you can at all help it. Five years ago, when I left the sole law firm I’ve ever worked for, I told just about everyone I talked to the truth: that the partners at my firm knew I was looking for another job. I went on at least 50 interviews before I realized what it was doing to my chances. I changed my story and had a job within a month. This time, older and wiser, I said “No, they don’t know, I like my current job, but I’m looking for more room for professional advancement.” Total employers interviewed before offer: 2. T-W-O. Don’t think it was an accident.
My thermometer was reading 88°F earlier. Or rather, it read 32°C. The weather outside felt like it was maybe 80°F or so. I love cloudy weather and cold fronts. :)
Alas, thundershowers are an inescapable byproduct of such days. I was prepared with an umbrella, though.
Equally inescapably, I left it by my desk when I crossed the street to the main CMH building. Just in time for it to rain.
Serendipity was with me, however, and I had the aluminum pot previously mentioned. Through clever deployment of the commercial-grade cookware, I estimate that only 94% of me got wet.
In other news, I feel distinctly pregnant. If only b/c I actually had lunch today, and I’ve had random urges to play XCom.
I bought a pot today.
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And lo! It was good.
Finished up the gauntlet this past weekend. Look for pics of it in sidesword play in a few weeks.
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