Melanie Gibson Class Diaries, Training Tips

The Devil is in the Details

The_Robot_Devil
I couldn’t find an image that accurately reflected my thoughts. Here’s a picture of my favorite Futurama character, the foppish Robot Devil.

“I’m not good with this technical mechanical stuff!” I shrieked in mock-desperation after a number of flubbed attempts at hand-to-hand techniques (painful twists and joint locks) with my partner. Including my instructor there were only four of us in advanced red and black belt class. It was getting late, and three of us were already worn out from an intense sparring class beforehand, so we were all getting a little loopy and giggly. Throwing in complicated and intricate self-defense work after a long day only fried my brain even more.

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Melanie Gibson Uncategorized

My Inner Child Has Been Replaced By an Inner Rapper

henry hill I don’t claim to be a rap aficionado; I only know the mainstream artists and have a few comforting favorites. Before college I was solidly a classic rock fan. We all listened to the “Dazed and Confused” soundtrack on school trips. I have fond memories of Foghat’s “Slow Ride” blasting through my Walkman headphones as we glided along the vast, cotton field-flanked West Texas highways. I have no idea what music was popular in the 90’s because I listened to the music from my parents’ school days. The Beatles had formed my foundation in junior high, accompanied by Led Zeppelin in high school, and later The Who in graduate school.
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Melanie Gibson Class Diaries

Perfection is Perfected So I’mma Let ‘Em Understand…

perfectionist-grass_BartCo_226x150

“Calm. Down,” whispered my instructor for the third time as we practiced the finer intricacies of hand-to-hand combat, i.e., twisting the crap out of each others’ wrists. Even though I was physically exhausted and wrung out like a dish rag from sparring class I was buzzing with manic energy during the red and black belt class. It came to a head when, jittery and frustrated, I flailed my hands and giggled apologies in a shrill self-deprecating tone after another failed attempt to reduce my “attacker” to a writhing heap on the floor.
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Melanie Gibson Class Diaries, Self-Development and Leadership

Is This the End or Just Beginning?

funny-new-years-resolutions-card

“Any New Year’s resolutions?” my instructor asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly at the end of class.
“To not write 2014 on my papers,” remarked one of the teenage black belts with a  smirk. Even though his smart-assotry gets old pretty quickly I giggled at that one. My instructor rolled his eyes and bounced his question back to the rest of the class.

“To get my black belt,” said a classmate proudly. Damnit, he took my idea! My mind had wandered off to my usual internal hippie daydreams like meditating more, being more mindful and present (ironically I wasn’t), start swimming in the early mornings again like I used to, juicing when I what I really want to do is get curly fries at Arby’s. I had forgotten what was so obvious and looming for a few of us:
Black belt. This is it. This is the year.
Holy crap.

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Melanie Gibson Class Diaries, Mental Health, Self-Development and Leadership

Happiness Ultimatum

“What’s your plan?” asked one of the instructors as we warmed up before class. I had just gotten my red belt so I thought he meant my training plan in preparation for the downward slope to black belt. I was about to list some of the cross training exercises I did, perhaps make a vague promise to cut back on wine, but he had a funny look on his face and narrowed his eyes. “You mean am I going to get black belt and then quit?,” I said. “No way.”

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