Matsui himoshono tiletito
I hardly have time to write this but I need to before it leaves me. Two saturdays ago, Sarah and I went to a yoga class at the YMCA here in Dallas to see what it would be like. I was a little skeptical, given that my impression of Yoga'ers was that they were wierdo new age people. However, I thought, it cant be that wierd at the Y, right?
Long story short. It kicked my butt. Lots of stretching, very little wierdness involved. I kept my eyes open most of the time, bar those times when I was wincing in pain or when sweat had just dripped into my eyes. I was really sore the next few days, as I am not a routine 'stretcher.' Not the ambulance kind, but the kind that does stretches.
So then we decided to go to power yoga this past Saturday. Harder, lots more push-ups + lots more sweat = lots of hurting. But a good hurt, of course. I am thinking about buying my own mat, is that wierd?
Superman: A Super Man and a Homewrecker
After a wonderful time of worship at PCPC yesterday, Sarah and I went and saw a matinee showing of Superman- Part 2 I think. It had the normal crazy story lines of all of those amazing things that superman can do. It showed superman in his blue tights, which are really tight, which made me want to wear them for Halloween next year, no matter what physical shape I'm in. The fatter the better, there would be awkwardness aplenty.
Here's what gets me. Lois Lane won't marry her boyfriend Richard, whom she is living with in a gargantuan house across from the NYC skyline, because she still loves Superman deep down. We all know that though. What really gets me is that Superman can just come in and out of these movies and never tell Lois that he is going to marry her, thus meaning that she and her boyfriend Richard will continue to have unmerited relations, and make people to think this is okay.
"This is not okay, Superman, and I, for one, am not afraid to tell you. You need to quit going back home to Krypton and freaking marry Lois Lane. You are breaking Richard's heart because he likes Lois, but knows that she loves you. You need to claim responsibility for that kid of yours, or at least start paying Lois something. You are a bad father, and didn't even do the necessary testing to see if Jason was your child. You waited for Lois to tell you. Weak sauce, Superman, weak sauce. Why don't you be the man who fills out those blue tights for once in your life?"
Disgruntled,
Brent Corbin
On fireworks...
For the last two nights I have stood with my neck in a fixed position as I gaze skyward at perhaps one of the things that gets me more instantly excited than anything else. From the first i-think-that-might-give-me-a-heart-attack-and-i-think-i-like-it boom until the paralyzing grand finale, I have realized that my childhood fascination with fireworks still looms large in my life. It is resurrected once/maybe twice a year (depending on where New Year's lands me) and for some reason, watching a fireworks show is absolutely riveting to me.
I was talking to Sarah the other day about my dismay with her having to work on the 4th of July. She didn't seem to think it was such a big deal (coming from a medical family), citing the fact that hospitals don't shut down for holidays. Understandably, she said that her family never celebrated the 4th very much growing up. After I started breathing again, we began to have a conversation about fireworks, and I would like to have an alliteration here and say "fireworks and freedom", but I'm afraid this time, it was just about fireworks.
Growing up, my brothers and I would blow undecent amounts of money on fireworks (one of my brothers still does, which i love). A little later in our childhood, we began to experiment a little more with homemade fireworks, and our money was turned to gunpowder, salt peter, pvc pipes, and cannon fuse. We made all sorts of little "pseudo" bombs and we would entertain ourselves for days playing in this manner. When I was a sophomore in high school, there was a big field party at some guy's land outside of Duncan. Once the night had worn on and the partiers were pretty saucy, I made my move.
I had constructed a 10 inch long bomb, more effectively like a small stick of dynamite. I put a 2 ft. fuse on it b/c i wanted to have time to run a long, long way before it blew. When the time was right, I lit, and I ran. And I watched, and i listened. BOOM! Actually, i didn't even need to listen. The freaking thing blew the end caps off of the pipe and was more like a giant sparkler. I was mad, but I think more, I was disappointed because I wanted the older kids to think I was cool.
Thats okay, I don't have to impress people anymore. I can sit and enjoy them with Sarah and other friends and family. But enjoy them I will, until my neck hurts and beyond. Little ones that you throw at others, ones that can catch your yards on fire, ones that you wish your eyes were bigger to take it all in, and ones that take the air from your chest when they break in the air. I love them all, and I ever will.
