Socially, I've always been awkward. As the years have progressed, I've picked up a couple of tricks to help me get through most social encounters. Smile. Listen. Be interested. Keep smiling. Make eye contact. That's the hardest one. It's so incredibly personal to look directly into someone's eyes. You could get lost in their thoughts and their past and never find your way out.
Scary!
When I am speaking to someone I admire, my eyes sometimes feel like they're going to cross because one part of me wants to make eye contact, create that bond, that friendship, and another part of me is hesitant to go there and discover that there is no bond or friendship, no connection or kindred spirit. Just another dick.
So I rarely actually speak to people at all unless I'm drunk or similarly intoxicated by adrenaline. I think many of my fighting friends that I meet at IMCF must now think of me as that creepy chick who smiles a lot and gushes about fighting. But I want to talk about things that are significant and meaningful. When I realise that what I have to say isn't significant or meaningful or indeed worthy, I just tend to smile or give compliments. So, yes. Me. Awkward as fuck. Who would have guessed it, me being a lecturer.
When it comes to getting along with people, every one of my SA team mates, with the obvious exception of Josh, will say that I am difficult. I have noticed it myself that if I have to deal with an authority figure, that figure had better stand up to some intense scrutiny or there will be no deal.
Unfortunately, everyone is human, so most days, there is very little in the way of dealing happening as far as I'm concerned. This has been a source of much consternation in the past, and always the politics will result.
I think that the more I attend tournaments, the more I understand the dynamics of myself. On the surface, there's the camaraderie and the smiles and the brotherhood that is our sport, and that is all genuine. But underneath, there is a questioning or a judgement on every call of a marshall, of every decision of a winner, of the progression or denial of every appeal, the pools, the times, the counters and whether there is a conflict.
The authority must successfully face some heavy scrutiny and come out of it mostly unscathed for the fighters to accept the results.
There will also always be an element of complete fair play and contentment; gratitude simply for the chance to fight, and that is what makes it better for everyone else, too.
In my case, the person who brings out that element in me is Josh. He is not about asserting authority over me, or being the person I want to be worthy of having a conversation with. He transcends all of that and is, just the other part of me. The part that is free to just enjoy the chance to fight.
The point that I think I'm working towards is this: no-one really knows what is going on inside or underneath (well, now I guess more people do in one respect), but you can bet it's not what you imagine it to be. So ignore all of the inevitable awkwardness, the politics and the shit-talkers, and all of the people who don't understand, and just focus on that part that is pure: the love of fighting.
Whatever happens, keep your head down and keep training and things will be fine.
This is what I tell my team, and now it has become clearer to me in a much larger context, but on a more personal level as well.
If I wanted to be flippant, I could end off with a remark about how this sport is cheaper than therapy, but it really isn't. It is, however, so much more satisfying.
Scary!
When I am speaking to someone I admire, my eyes sometimes feel like they're going to cross because one part of me wants to make eye contact, create that bond, that friendship, and another part of me is hesitant to go there and discover that there is no bond or friendship, no connection or kindred spirit. Just another dick.
So I rarely actually speak to people at all unless I'm drunk or similarly intoxicated by adrenaline. I think many of my fighting friends that I meet at IMCF must now think of me as that creepy chick who smiles a lot and gushes about fighting. But I want to talk about things that are significant and meaningful. When I realise that what I have to say isn't significant or meaningful or indeed worthy, I just tend to smile or give compliments. So, yes. Me. Awkward as fuck. Who would have guessed it, me being a lecturer.
When it comes to getting along with people, every one of my SA team mates, with the obvious exception of Josh, will say that I am difficult. I have noticed it myself that if I have to deal with an authority figure, that figure had better stand up to some intense scrutiny or there will be no deal.
Unfortunately, everyone is human, so most days, there is very little in the way of dealing happening as far as I'm concerned. This has been a source of much consternation in the past, and always the politics will result.
 |
| Me using KCs helm for longsword. You can see KC (left) and Bron (right) just behind me. Thanks, Caroline Walsh for the photo - you are an artist. |
I think that the more I attend tournaments, the more I understand the dynamics of myself. On the surface, there's the camaraderie and the smiles and the brotherhood that is our sport, and that is all genuine. But underneath, there is a questioning or a judgement on every call of a marshall, of every decision of a winner, of the progression or denial of every appeal, the pools, the times, the counters and whether there is a conflict.
The authority must successfully face some heavy scrutiny and come out of it mostly unscathed for the fighters to accept the results.
There will also always be an element of complete fair play and contentment; gratitude simply for the chance to fight, and that is what makes it better for everyone else, too.
In my case, the person who brings out that element in me is Josh. He is not about asserting authority over me, or being the person I want to be worthy of having a conversation with. He transcends all of that and is, just the other part of me. The part that is free to just enjoy the chance to fight.
The point that I think I'm working towards is this: no-one really knows what is going on inside or underneath (well, now I guess more people do in one respect), but you can bet it's not what you imagine it to be. So ignore all of the inevitable awkwardness, the politics and the shit-talkers, and all of the people who don't understand, and just focus on that part that is pure: the love of fighting.
Whatever happens, keep your head down and keep training and things will be fine.
This is what I tell my team, and now it has become clearer to me in a much larger context, but on a more personal level as well.
If I wanted to be flippant, I could end off with a remark about how this sport is cheaper than therapy, but it really isn't. It is, however, so much more satisfying.
No comments:
Post a Comment