Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Lovely
Life isn't easy on us, but for some reason I have become a lot more optimistic about things. I would say that life's troubles are beautiful, but they are not. Pain is not beautiful, but the the strength and inspiration that comes out of pain is beautiful. Sadness is not beautiful, but the compassion and support that comes out of sadness is beautiful. Suicide is not beautiful, but being able to feel so strongly about something is beautiful. Happiness can be beautiful, but it's too temporary to be truly beautiful. So I have been feeling sentimental about our lives and what experiences they bring us, but beautiful implies too much. They are lovely. Our lives are lovely and our experiences whether good or bad are lovely because they just are. Our lives are the way they are and there is certainly something lovely about that.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Who's University? Our University.
When I heard there was going to be a walkout over the budget cuts I was a little annoyed. I kind of rolled my eyes and said to myself if there is no money, a protest is not going to change that. I was happy my first two classes were canceled. Not because I wanted to go hold up signs and pump my fists in the air, but because my study group had an extra hour to go over our readings.
When I walked into the front gate of the University there were picketers and faculty in pink robes representing pink slips. The annoyance started bubbling a bit. What are these people going to get done? Why are they just standing around complaining? At least they have a job!
I went to my study group and then went to my lecture and when I came out the University was transformed into the grounds for the biggest demonstration I have ever seen in person. People were sitting on roofs, hanging off of railings, and sitting on window ledges. Various signs and banners were being displayed and people were pumping their fists in the air, and saying "Who's University? Our University!, Who's University? Our University!" I was a little frightened to be honest, but I stayed and watched. As I sat there and watched how passionate people were about the issues, and listened to the speakers I started becoming angry.
They were right. Why do I have to pay more for less classes? Why do I have to pay 32% more for underpaid, and overworked professors? Why do I have to pay 1,600 more a semester when classes for my major aren't even going to be offered? Why do I have pay the amount of out of state tuition because of an inefficient bureaucracy?
The students are the ones who live in closet size apartments, study day and night, and have gone through you name it to get into the fucken University. The professors wouldn't be able to do their jobs without the GSI's who are not only grad students, but they practically teach the classes! At the same time the professors are the experts, and their research, hard work, and dedication is paving the way for future generations in their field. We are the future of the University! We are the future changers of the World! This is our University!
Someone told me on Friday the protests in front of Sproul was the largest gathering since the Vietnam War. I realized I am part of something big. The Economy is bad. The state I live is bankrupt. Education is becoming less accessible. The U.S is fighting two wars. ( the airports are flooded with military service men leaving and coming home.) We have our first black President ( who I am still a huge supporter of ). People are angry, people are suffering, systems are crumbling, and the world is changing. Students need to be trained, not exploited. We need to arm ourselves and be ready to take on these problems.
We are the world changers. We are the future.
Who's University? Our University!
Who's University? My University!
We worked for it, we paid for it, we can change it!
Friday, July 31, 2009
UC Berkeley!
I start school in less than a month. We just found got the apartment we wanted in Albany, CA. Its super cute. Hardwood floors, real tile in the kitchen, old fashion stove, safe neighborhood, a block from the bus stop. Love it:) The only negative thing is its located in the town I spent my worst high school years. That wouldn't be a problem except for I hung out with some f-ups who never left and I REALLY don't want to run into them. Of course...I prob will.
I am very nervous about school, but I am ready. I am currently un-employed and am going to be living off of student loans and scholarships. At least till I get settled and know my work load.
*girlie scream* I cannot believe I am a UC Berkeley student.
I am very nervous about school, but I am ready. I am currently un-employed and am going to be living off of student loans and scholarships. At least till I get settled and know my work load.
*girlie scream* I cannot believe I am a UC Berkeley student.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Our lives come from Allah, and are taken from Allah.
I recently attended an Islamic funeral. I felt like I walked into another world, and ended up a little better for it.
I am very inexperienced at dealing with death. I have only attended two funerals, and only one of those was someone in my family. They were both open casket, so technically I have seen two dead bodies in my life. Although I was sad at these funerals, I never felt like the bodies lying in their fancy coffins were real. When it was my own grandfather I didn't even go say goodbye to his body, because I didn't feel like the body lying in the coffin was his. It was stiff, filled with chemicals, and dressed up like a doll. He looked like wax, and was simply a prop in a "ceremony" for the living.
I have always thought of myself as a very logical person. The thought of a God up in the heavens looking over all of us with a plan makes me crazy. It doesn't make any sense to me. God makes us immortal, and that is why I believe people need him. He only feeds the "ego" that most religions say they are trying to filter out of us. People are capable of living perfectly moral lives without God or his words.
In the wake of studying mysticism and Confucius in my World Religions class, my husband’s grandfather got very sick. I have never watched someone die from cancer. They simply waste away until they are no longer. The cancer runs ramp id and takes all control from the person affected by it. Even though I did not know him very well, it deeply saddened me to see someone in this state. It makes me tear up just writing this. It is so sad, not because he didn't live a full life, but because no matter what life one has there are always memories, regrets, and a desperate need for more time at the end. We don't get more time though. It is the end.
It was the end for Kamel. We arrived about 5 minutes after he had passed. Like I mentioned before, I have never seen a naturally dead body. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. A man who had been in so much pain, and had been fighting his end so fiercely was finally calmed by death. He didn't look empty, as the bodies at the funerals I had attended. There was so much life left. He was calm, serene, and expressed a sense of understanding that was lacking in his face before. It was hard for me to look at him for too long, as I kept thinking I saw his chest moving, like he was breathing.
The living doesn’t understand death. Your brain plays tricks on you, and logic goes out the window. Perhaps he really was at peace or I projected my own hopes for him on his face. I really don't have an answer for you, but it made me realize that my logical thoughts about death were quickly challenged when I was confronted with it. I went outside, and I prayed for him and his family. I don't believe in God, so I don't know what came over me, but I had to do something. It was something for my brain to do. Wouldn't it be easier to deal with it, if I knew he was in heaven at peace with the wife that he missed so dearly? The thought calmed me, and the warmth from the sun outside seemed like a gift. The sun was out before he died, but after his death it felt different. Probably because I wasn't forced to feel it. I finally went back inside a little frustrated that because I had no religion I didn't have an answer for myself, and there weren't actions set out for me.
Kamel was Muslim, and because of this, there were rules laid out for us. There were rules about how to treat and bury his body, as well as how his loved ones should respond to his death. I felt like it was a much-needed gift for all of us.
His body was not to be messed with. He was washed by the Imam, and wrapped in a shroud.
On our way to the Islamic graveyard we passed a catholic graveyard. The grass was perfectly green, and cut. There were extravagant statues, graves, and exotic arrangements of flowers. It was beautiful, but again, somehow lifeless. When we arrived at the Islamic graveyard it was very empty in comparison. The grass wasn’t perfectly cut, and its color lacked the vividness of the catholic graveyard. There weren't bright flower arrangements everywhere. It was still, but not stiff. There are grave markers, but they all the same: plain.
The women were not allowed by the gravesite, because it was the man's duty to bury the body. Honestly it was a bit of a relief. I didn't know the prayers they had to recite, and I didn't know if I could handle seeing more bodies. There were three burials taking place at the same time.
We sat uncomfortably in the car as all the men arrived from the family of the deceased and the mosque. They were dressed either in native dress or very plain clothes. This is something I am quite embarrassed about, because while looking for something to wear to the funeral I realized my wardrobe is a bit extravagant. I had to go buy something plain to wear, and in the end I still dressed in clothes that I felt made me look pretty. I am embarrassed because it wasn't a time to dress up in the most fancy dress or suit one owns. No one was trying to draw attention to themselves. Unlike the funerals I have previously attended, this funeral wasn't for the living. It was a ceremony done to get the deceased into heaven. It wasn't to celebrate their life, and it wasn't to mourn their death. Our lives come from Allah, and are taken from Allah. It is one and the same, and a burial is simply done for its own sake.
The baby wrapped in a tiny cloth to the old men who had been blessed with a full life was one and the same to the Imams. When we expressed our sadness for the baby, we were responded to with indifference. "It is Allah's will." It may seem a bit harsh, but it was calming. My initial reaction to the man carrying the little bundle of cloth to the gravesite was of uncontrollable tears, and a little bit of anger. How is it Allah's will to take the life of a child? I quickly realized that was coming from my own attachment to this world, and my own fears about death. I was worried about the mother, because if I ever lost a child of mine I would be devastated. It was easier to deal with, if I emulated their attitude about it.
After the prayers we were able to get out of the car and watch the burial from afar. It was unorganized, but very organic. The men all crowded around the holes dug in the ground with shovels, as about 5 men clumsily carried the 3 boxes to the site. There was a lot of bustling and chattering, followed by silence for yet again more prayer, and then the shoveling of dirt over the boxes in the ground. All the men took turns shoveling. It was brothers helping brothers to get the job done. They were all equal including the three that were in the ground. It made sense, and it was wonderful to watch.
After the bodies were buried, everyone dispersed from the gravesite. A group of men who had just a moment ago been so intimately working were now separated by language, and religious sects. It was a beautiful display of the nature of humanity. We are all capable of coming together, but it is simply more comfortable to separate ourselves. It all ended with the exchange of money for the burial services. Each family had to sign papers and write a check.
I will admit that I had many preconceptions about Islam. It seemed like a formal, lifeless religion to me. I felt like it was constricting to the human spirit. After experiencing their views and ceremonies around death my opinion has changed. We all are the same, and even though I don't believe we come from Allah, we all come from the same place, and leave the same way. That is something I believed before, and this experience only strengthened. Death should not be fussed over, or made to be a sickly display of status and wealth. It should be a time when people come together as people and deal with it in a way that makes sense for everyone. For me the Islamic funeral was just that. It made sense, for the deceased and the living. This particular display of religion was not constricting, or for the weak minded. It takes strength to believe and behave the way they did. In fact it is admirable, and something whether one is religious or a philosopher should be strived for. The philosopher and the mystic would agree that ceremonies like these are needed. Whether we believe the dead are going to heaven, or they are going back to the earth, they are gone. It doesn't change the pain caused by death. We come up with ceremonies to deal with difficult situations, because it’s the only thing we can do. Religion is a display of the best and worst in us, but in this situation it was of the best.
I just don't think my brain is set up to believe in God, but this experience has put a place for him when it comes to thinking about people logically. Believing in him brings logic and purpose to some. Certainly Religion gives us ceremonies that we all can benefit from, because we all need a little guidance sometimes. After all we are all simply human.
I am very inexperienced at dealing with death. I have only attended two funerals, and only one of those was someone in my family. They were both open casket, so technically I have seen two dead bodies in my life. Although I was sad at these funerals, I never felt like the bodies lying in their fancy coffins were real. When it was my own grandfather I didn't even go say goodbye to his body, because I didn't feel like the body lying in the coffin was his. It was stiff, filled with chemicals, and dressed up like a doll. He looked like wax, and was simply a prop in a "ceremony" for the living.
I have always thought of myself as a very logical person. The thought of a God up in the heavens looking over all of us with a plan makes me crazy. It doesn't make any sense to me. God makes us immortal, and that is why I believe people need him. He only feeds the "ego" that most religions say they are trying to filter out of us. People are capable of living perfectly moral lives without God or his words.
In the wake of studying mysticism and Confucius in my World Religions class, my husband’s grandfather got very sick. I have never watched someone die from cancer. They simply waste away until they are no longer. The cancer runs ramp id and takes all control from the person affected by it. Even though I did not know him very well, it deeply saddened me to see someone in this state. It makes me tear up just writing this. It is so sad, not because he didn't live a full life, but because no matter what life one has there are always memories, regrets, and a desperate need for more time at the end. We don't get more time though. It is the end.
It was the end for Kamel. We arrived about 5 minutes after he had passed. Like I mentioned before, I have never seen a naturally dead body. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. A man who had been in so much pain, and had been fighting his end so fiercely was finally calmed by death. He didn't look empty, as the bodies at the funerals I had attended. There was so much life left. He was calm, serene, and expressed a sense of understanding that was lacking in his face before. It was hard for me to look at him for too long, as I kept thinking I saw his chest moving, like he was breathing.
The living doesn’t understand death. Your brain plays tricks on you, and logic goes out the window. Perhaps he really was at peace or I projected my own hopes for him on his face. I really don't have an answer for you, but it made me realize that my logical thoughts about death were quickly challenged when I was confronted with it. I went outside, and I prayed for him and his family. I don't believe in God, so I don't know what came over me, but I had to do something. It was something for my brain to do. Wouldn't it be easier to deal with it, if I knew he was in heaven at peace with the wife that he missed so dearly? The thought calmed me, and the warmth from the sun outside seemed like a gift. The sun was out before he died, but after his death it felt different. Probably because I wasn't forced to feel it. I finally went back inside a little frustrated that because I had no religion I didn't have an answer for myself, and there weren't actions set out for me.
Kamel was Muslim, and because of this, there were rules laid out for us. There were rules about how to treat and bury his body, as well as how his loved ones should respond to his death. I felt like it was a much-needed gift for all of us.
His body was not to be messed with. He was washed by the Imam, and wrapped in a shroud.
On our way to the Islamic graveyard we passed a catholic graveyard. The grass was perfectly green, and cut. There were extravagant statues, graves, and exotic arrangements of flowers. It was beautiful, but again, somehow lifeless. When we arrived at the Islamic graveyard it was very empty in comparison. The grass wasn’t perfectly cut, and its color lacked the vividness of the catholic graveyard. There weren't bright flower arrangements everywhere. It was still, but not stiff. There are grave markers, but they all the same: plain.
The women were not allowed by the gravesite, because it was the man's duty to bury the body. Honestly it was a bit of a relief. I didn't know the prayers they had to recite, and I didn't know if I could handle seeing more bodies. There were three burials taking place at the same time.
We sat uncomfortably in the car as all the men arrived from the family of the deceased and the mosque. They were dressed either in native dress or very plain clothes. This is something I am quite embarrassed about, because while looking for something to wear to the funeral I realized my wardrobe is a bit extravagant. I had to go buy something plain to wear, and in the end I still dressed in clothes that I felt made me look pretty. I am embarrassed because it wasn't a time to dress up in the most fancy dress or suit one owns. No one was trying to draw attention to themselves. Unlike the funerals I have previously attended, this funeral wasn't for the living. It was a ceremony done to get the deceased into heaven. It wasn't to celebrate their life, and it wasn't to mourn their death. Our lives come from Allah, and are taken from Allah. It is one and the same, and a burial is simply done for its own sake.
The baby wrapped in a tiny cloth to the old men who had been blessed with a full life was one and the same to the Imams. When we expressed our sadness for the baby, we were responded to with indifference. "It is Allah's will." It may seem a bit harsh, but it was calming. My initial reaction to the man carrying the little bundle of cloth to the gravesite was of uncontrollable tears, and a little bit of anger. How is it Allah's will to take the life of a child? I quickly realized that was coming from my own attachment to this world, and my own fears about death. I was worried about the mother, because if I ever lost a child of mine I would be devastated. It was easier to deal with, if I emulated their attitude about it.
After the prayers we were able to get out of the car and watch the burial from afar. It was unorganized, but very organic. The men all crowded around the holes dug in the ground with shovels, as about 5 men clumsily carried the 3 boxes to the site. There was a lot of bustling and chattering, followed by silence for yet again more prayer, and then the shoveling of dirt over the boxes in the ground. All the men took turns shoveling. It was brothers helping brothers to get the job done. They were all equal including the three that were in the ground. It made sense, and it was wonderful to watch.
After the bodies were buried, everyone dispersed from the gravesite. A group of men who had just a moment ago been so intimately working were now separated by language, and religious sects. It was a beautiful display of the nature of humanity. We are all capable of coming together, but it is simply more comfortable to separate ourselves. It all ended with the exchange of money for the burial services. Each family had to sign papers and write a check.
I will admit that I had many preconceptions about Islam. It seemed like a formal, lifeless religion to me. I felt like it was constricting to the human spirit. After experiencing their views and ceremonies around death my opinion has changed. We all are the same, and even though I don't believe we come from Allah, we all come from the same place, and leave the same way. That is something I believed before, and this experience only strengthened. Death should not be fussed over, or made to be a sickly display of status and wealth. It should be a time when people come together as people and deal with it in a way that makes sense for everyone. For me the Islamic funeral was just that. It made sense, for the deceased and the living. This particular display of religion was not constricting, or for the weak minded. It takes strength to believe and behave the way they did. In fact it is admirable, and something whether one is religious or a philosopher should be strived for. The philosopher and the mystic would agree that ceremonies like these are needed. Whether we believe the dead are going to heaven, or they are going back to the earth, they are gone. It doesn't change the pain caused by death. We come up with ceremonies to deal with difficult situations, because it’s the only thing we can do. Religion is a display of the best and worst in us, but in this situation it was of the best.
I just don't think my brain is set up to believe in God, but this experience has put a place for him when it comes to thinking about people logically. Believing in him brings logic and purpose to some. Certainly Religion gives us ceremonies that we all can benefit from, because we all need a little guidance sometimes. After all we are all simply human.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Kids don't even like vegetables!
I am becoming increasingly happy with my choice of major( Asian Studies, with an emphasis on China). A lot of Americans are scared of what they don't know, and many of them don't know a lot about China. Hopefully I will be able to be of service when I graduate. Since I have gotten back from China I have found that there are far too many Americans who are scared of the Chinese. Not just on a militarilial level either. I know there are many people who think China is going to take over the world or whatever. I can live with that. After all there are enough of them to do so if they wanted. But what gets me is the lack of reason when it comes to conspiracy theories surrounding exports that we CHOOSE to buy.
I walked in the backroom at work and my manager was talking to another supervisor about the salmonella outbreak. I walked in the exact moment that these words came out of a 28 year old, college graduate's mouth:
"China can't kill our children with led anymore so they are contaminating our food." The other supervisor laughs and agrees.
I rolled my eyes and simply told her that was not true.
So she continues."Oh yeah. I forgot you lived there. I just said that to make you mad."
She didn't. She wasn't even talking to me and I wasn't there when she started talking about it. Not to mention she is not the only American that feels this way towards China. She is lucky she attempted to cover herself because I would have called Human Resources if she hadn't.
As far as salmonella and lead poisoning, Americans should blame themselves. We are the ones who want to buy our children cheap toys. We don't want to pay for the quality that we are expecting another country to produce. We are the country with the parents who don't watch there own kids. Who blame others when our kid ingests paint from a toy.
The toys China is exporting are the same, if not BETTER quality then the toys they are giving their own children. They love their children just as much as we love ours. They aren't trying to poison our children, and they are not trying to poison their own children.
As far as salmonella goes... Most of the time the chinese cook all their vegetables. I just want to reiterate. Its our fault we don't want to pay for locally grown food.( Which isn't even guaranteed to be free of salmonella.) We want fresh spinach salad ( which would be a luxury in most places), but we don't want to pay more for it. Go to the farmers market, wash your vegetables, or simply cook them!
Lets remember to use that mushy thing inside our skulls.
Lastly, Ponder on this:
If you wanted to kill American children would you go about it by contaminating vegetables with salmonella?
I wouldn't, and I wouldn't be so ignorant as to make accusatory statements about a country which I know nothing about.
I walked in the backroom at work and my manager was talking to another supervisor about the salmonella outbreak. I walked in the exact moment that these words came out of a 28 year old, college graduate's mouth:
"China can't kill our children with led anymore so they are contaminating our food." The other supervisor laughs and agrees.
I rolled my eyes and simply told her that was not true.
So she continues."Oh yeah. I forgot you lived there. I just said that to make you mad."
She didn't. She wasn't even talking to me and I wasn't there when she started talking about it. Not to mention she is not the only American that feels this way towards China. She is lucky she attempted to cover herself because I would have called Human Resources if she hadn't.
As far as salmonella and lead poisoning, Americans should blame themselves. We are the ones who want to buy our children cheap toys. We don't want to pay for the quality that we are expecting another country to produce. We are the country with the parents who don't watch there own kids. Who blame others when our kid ingests paint from a toy.
The toys China is exporting are the same, if not BETTER quality then the toys they are giving their own children. They love their children just as much as we love ours. They aren't trying to poison our children, and they are not trying to poison their own children.
As far as salmonella goes... Most of the time the chinese cook all their vegetables. I just want to reiterate. Its our fault we don't want to pay for locally grown food.( Which isn't even guaranteed to be free of salmonella.) We want fresh spinach salad ( which would be a luxury in most places), but we don't want to pay more for it. Go to the farmers market, wash your vegetables, or simply cook them!
Lets remember to use that mushy thing inside our skulls.
Lastly, Ponder on this:
If you wanted to kill American children would you go about it by contaminating vegetables with salmonella?
I wouldn't, and I wouldn't be so ignorant as to make accusatory statements about a country which I know nothing about.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Prime Time Challenge
After a week of training with one arm, I was able to start training with two. I was only able to train with two for a week before my fight. My fight was last night.
It was the one of the most intense nights of my life. Waiting around for the fight was one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced. I was nervous, scared, and extremely anxious.
I won my first fight! It wasn't easy either. The girl I was fighting has extremely large arms and is built like a pit bull. I did exactly what my trainer told me to do and just kept throwing. The crowd was going crazy. We got a standing ovation. ( blush) I don't know why or how it happened, but most of the gym was rooting for me. It was a bit surreal.
Because I won the first fight I moved on to fight again. I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was to take a nap. I couldn't of course.
The girl I was fighting was lucky, and didn't have to do more then one fight. It doesn't seem exactly fare, but thats what happened. I did pretty good against her. I was exhausted, and gave one really good round. The fight got stopped three times because my head gear kept coming off. The velcro wasn't sticking so my trainer had to put tape on me. Danny Bonaduce helped put tape on me. I ended up losing, but not by much. I gave my best, and I was happy with my performance, as was everyone else.
I was the a huge relief to be done with the fights and be able to have some beers with all my friends and family. It was a really good night. It was nice to have so many people support me.
I am looking forward to a week break from training and then getting right back into it.
There will be video of the fights soon!
I won this fight!
And lost against Dangerous Dee.
The guy in the blue shirt is Danny Bonaduce. ( he works for me :) )
It was the one of the most intense nights of my life. Waiting around for the fight was one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced. I was nervous, scared, and extremely anxious.
I won my first fight! It wasn't easy either. The girl I was fighting has extremely large arms and is built like a pit bull. I did exactly what my trainer told me to do and just kept throwing. The crowd was going crazy. We got a standing ovation. ( blush) I don't know why or how it happened, but most of the gym was rooting for me. It was a bit surreal.
Because I won the first fight I moved on to fight again. I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was to take a nap. I couldn't of course.
The girl I was fighting was lucky, and didn't have to do more then one fight. It doesn't seem exactly fare, but thats what happened. I did pretty good against her. I was exhausted, and gave one really good round. The fight got stopped three times because my head gear kept coming off. The velcro wasn't sticking so my trainer had to put tape on me. Danny Bonaduce helped put tape on me. I ended up losing, but not by much. I gave my best, and I was happy with my performance, as was everyone else.
I was the a huge relief to be done with the fights and be able to have some beers with all my friends and family. It was a really good night. It was nice to have so many people support me.
I am looking forward to a week break from training and then getting right back into it.
There will be video of the fights soon!
I won this fight!
And lost against Dangerous Dee.
The guy in the blue shirt is Danny Bonaduce. ( he works for me :) )
Friday, December 12, 2008
Fight
I am sparring again tomorrow! This time I am a little more nervous because I know what to expect. Plus I have been training everyday this week and my body is exhausted.
My trainer also informed me today that the fight I will be fighting in is tournament style. Which means if I win its a double edged sword, because I have to do another fight. In the same night. And if I win that, I have to do yet another one.
Its really starting to kick in what I have gotten myself into. I love boxing, and it has really changed the way I feel about myself. But its not easy. Not in the slightest. I have to constantly fight with myself. Its only 10 more push ups, only 30 more seconds, you can do this, why are you stopping, its only jump roping, its only two minutes. Then when I am not working out its, I can't eat this, I can't drink that hot chocolate, no desert, no beer, no second cup of coffee. Its mentally draining.
I think the greatest part about it is that for some reason I don't want to quit. I love the challenge, and I love the pain. I know it is making me physically, and mentally stronger. I have never pushed myself so hard in my life, and its invigorating.
So come see me fight! I might not be a champ, but it will at least be entertaining, as most people who know me have never seen this side of me. I am a feisty girl in the ring.
My fight is on Saturday December 27th at 8 p.m in Roseville:10600 Industrial Ave. #150 ( its behind pump it up)
It cost 10 dollars or 25 dollars with beer and wine.
Come and enjoy!
And I even had a custom shirt made for me. ( I feel so special)
My trainer also informed me today that the fight I will be fighting in is tournament style. Which means if I win its a double edged sword, because I have to do another fight. In the same night. And if I win that, I have to do yet another one.
Its really starting to kick in what I have gotten myself into. I love boxing, and it has really changed the way I feel about myself. But its not easy. Not in the slightest. I have to constantly fight with myself. Its only 10 more push ups, only 30 more seconds, you can do this, why are you stopping, its only jump roping, its only two minutes. Then when I am not working out its, I can't eat this, I can't drink that hot chocolate, no desert, no beer, no second cup of coffee. Its mentally draining.
I think the greatest part about it is that for some reason I don't want to quit. I love the challenge, and I love the pain. I know it is making me physically, and mentally stronger. I have never pushed myself so hard in my life, and its invigorating.
So come see me fight! I might not be a champ, but it will at least be entertaining, as most people who know me have never seen this side of me. I am a feisty girl in the ring.
My fight is on Saturday December 27th at 8 p.m in Roseville:10600 Industrial Ave. #150 ( its behind pump it up)
It cost 10 dollars or 25 dollars with beer and wine.
Come and enjoy!
And I even had a custom shirt made for me. ( I feel so special)
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