Perseverance

When I was 12 I saw this guy stick two fingers in his mouth and out came the loudest whistle I had ever heard. At the time, it was the coolest thing I had ever seen/heard and I was determined to learn how. For days I walked around in a state of frustration and determination with my fingers in my mouth, blowing and blowing, leaving a trail of saliva and an echo of an awful hissing sound. I remember my dad yelling in annoyance one night at the dinner table that he had enough and I should quit immediately. Quit? How could I quit? If I quit then I would be a quitter and that's out of the question. And besides, I had this idea that if I could master the loud whistle then I would be cool and maybe someday some little kid would be inspired by me, similar to how I was inspired by the whistling stranger.

I can still remember with exact clarity the sense of fulfillment when I heard the first resemblance of a whistle ripple over my water soaked wrinkled fingers. After that, the progression to a level of whistle mastery was quick. It was so strange to me how something that seemed impossible suddenly became simple. This lesson in perseverance was a valuable one to learn.

Whenever I watch footage on television of boxers training I am in awe of how they can dance with a skipping rope. I always had this dream of being able to do that someday. Nine months ago, as part of my new adventures in fitness, I decided that I was going to learn to dance with a skipping rope. Now, if you've ever seen me try to dance with my two left feet, you'd wonder why I'd be foolish enough to add a third obstacle. For some reason, in the fantasy world that's my reality, I was sure I was going to be a natural at it. Wrong!!

My first goal in developing jumping rhythm, strength, and stamina was to learn to do a double under. One jump, two rotations of the rope. On certain days, I hid in the yoga studio of my gym and desperately tried to do a double under. And with every failure and feeling of impossibility, I kept replaying that feeling of my first loud whistle, knowing that one day everything would click and I would complete a double under. Last Thursday I was successful. After waiting and wondering when the moment would occur, it finally happened. It was a joyous and very proud moment. It was another victory to add to the mental checklist of why I persevere.

Sammy vs. Nico

Last night Nicole and I went to see Marie Chouinard's Orpheus and Eurydice. I wasn't impressed. Nicole loved it. I wasn't going to blog about it. Nicole said I had to. As a loyal friend, I reluctantly agreed.

This is the second draft of my review. The first was started as soon as I got home. At around 1:00 am, and hundreds of words later, I realized it was too long for a blog entry and went to bed. To summarize, I thought it was choppy and repetitive. There were brief elements of wonderful creativity and beauty but as a whole there wasn't enough original content to justify sitting in the uncomfortable seats of theatre Grand for over an hour.

If you're going to call the show Orpheus and Eurydice then I expect the story. There was no story. The dance highlighted Orpheus' quest to save Eurydice and unsuccessfully tried to connect it with the quest for finding one's voice. These two ideas carried the entire show and resulted in a final twenty minutes of complete boredom where everything that was presented before was repeated with exagerated intensity in an attempt to drive the choreographers disjointed message home.

Instead, the show should be titled "My name's Marie and I'm feeling uncreative today so I'll be lazy and throw something together. Oh, and maybe I'll reference a tiny part of a Greek Myth to feign story". Maybe that's a little harsh, but I'm out $57 for a show that was maybe worth $25. It was interesting to learn from the dancers at the post show Q & A that the Greek myth was only implanted after the show was first conceived. Confirmed my suspicions all along.

I always enjoy watching dance, the movement, the endurance, the commitment. This performance wasn't lacking in superb dance skill and striking body movement and so it wasn't a complete waste. I was just looking for a little more especially compared to other great shows I've seen and paid a lot less for. Now I'm going to email Nico and tell her to leave a comment for this blog entry with her review. But, personally, I would not believe a word she tells you. ;-)

To Whom It May Concern

Dear lady that was driving with a cigarette in one hand and a cell phone in the other,

You're an idiot.

Love,
Samina

Random ponderings

Things were amiss when I got up this morning. Yet, I managed to drag myself to the gym. After the usual warm up I jumped on the rowing machine and froze, completely unmotivated. But rather than engage in an internal speech of self motivation my mind wandered elsewhere. Here's what I thought about for 10 minutes.

1. Why doesn't God offer his services as an interior designer? After searching for months for a way to decorate my empty apartment I have noticed that nothing man made compares to the awe and comfort of nature's design. The perfect mixture of shades in a sunset, the subtle placement and striking color of a person's eyes, the seamless blend of trees, mountains, and rivers. Even the finest decorated homes can't compare.

2. This sweet woman in her nineties tells me often about the shows she watches on television. She lives alone and is recovering from knee replacement surgery. Maybe television isn't bad after all if it helps someone fill lonely space?

3. Tennis. I always think about tennis; technique, strategy, fitness, goals. There are some places I belong and others I don't, and I haven't quite figured out which is which. But when I am on the tennis court I'm never in doubt that I am in the right place.

4. Rogue was so playful this morning before I left. That's the best, when she gets all excited and does crazy somersaults while attacking her little stuffed bear. I wish her energy had rubbed off on me. Damn I love that munchkin.

5. Should I buy a house? Should I buy a couch? Should I buy a TV? Should I buy a couch and a TV before or after buying a house? Should I just exist in limbo for my remaining years?

Accepting reality, I left without breaking a sweat and started the work day. Guess it wasn't a good day for a work out.

Resolution check (part 2)

At the start of 2009 I made a 20 lb weight loss resolution. By April I had successfully completed this goal. Good for me! Fresh off my weight loss high I was ambitious and created a mid year resolution to lose another 20 lbs. It is September and I hang my head in shame as I admit that the second goal failed miserably. It is the eating thing that's my biggest battle. Although I have continued to workout there was a span of a couple months in the summer that I ate very poorly. With the stress of work I just wasn't planning my meals properly and didn't have any energy (or time) to do any cooking. Excuses, excuses!

To get back on track with my mid year resolution I have entered a weight loss 'competition' with my personal trainer. In hindsight, it was probably not a good idea. We are talking about someone who is schooled in nutrition and, as I learned today, rows 6,000 km in 25 minutes. Have I lost my mind?!

Regardless of the outcome, it feels great to get on track again with my goals. Weight loss is hard and it sucks but with a little will power and perseverance I'm looking forward to the lighter me. Imagine the havoc I'll wreak on the tennis court without this extra weight in my way.

I Love September

Can't say I'm disappointed to see this summer end. It has been mediocre at best because I've been working like crazy. Thankfully September's finally here, oh how I love September. Not only does it mark the beginning of theatre season but I have also started the countdown to the International Film Festival.

The film festival is by far my favorite Calgary event and it is not uncommon for me to see 20 films over its 10 day span. Didn't volunteer this year and I'm quite sure I am not going to be volunteering for CIFF again because the festival’s growing in size and there is too much bureaucracy now. I enjoyed volunteering in the early days when there were maybe 10 people running the show and everyone knew everyone. That's when it was purely about the art and love of filmmaking and less about scoring the most popular movies or lining up 'famous' names.

This year's theatre season is looking mighty fine and I'm kicking it off with Marie Chouinard's 'Orpheus and Eurydice'. The last time her dance company was in town was about four years ago.
I'm eager to see what beautiful weirdness she's got in store for us this time around.

Ah yes, September. The (far too brief) magic of changing leaves and a foreseeable completion of the idiotic work project that destroyed summer. Is it wrong to love a month so much?

My Brain

I am so frustrated with my tennis game these days. It's like I am a complete beginner again and nothing is working. I have the footwork resembling someone with two left feet and I can't hit a proper top spin forehand on a good day. I quit!

Okay, breathe. That's crazy talk.

I am not quitting, but it is ridiculous loving something so much even though it makes me bonkers. I'm a slave to the silly game. That's why I fork out $2000 dollars a year so I can play on indoor courts in the winter at an overpriced gym. It is the reason why I get up every morning at 4:30 so I can work out and get in a few rounds with the ball machine before work. And it is responsible for turning my usually calm self into a swearing lunatic on the court when things aren't going right.

There is, of course, a perfectly good reason why my games sucking these day. My coach has decided that I am ready for the next step in advancing my level of play, it's called hitting early. Basically, if you watch professional tennis and compare it to the average joe/joelene on a tennis court, one of the biggest differences you'll see is contact point. Professionals can hit the ball a lot earlier and that's how they generate speed. And although it may sound simple I am learning it's extremely difficult to do.

In order to master 'hitting early' one must learn to trust their instinct. When you make contact out in front it is almost like hitting blind, you have to trust that your body's in the right place and just swing. Your brain is going to try and fool you into waiting, hitting when it's safe and after you've fully processed where the ball actually bounces.

It's a strange mind fuck, hitting the ball before you're brain has fully determined it's okay. And, although I feel like I have taken two steps back with respect to my skill level, it is amazing to discover that instinct trumps the almighty brain. I need to remember this the next time my brain commands my hands to reach for a chocolate bar even thought my gut is telling me NO.

Alright enough rambling, got to get to bed because I'm up again at a ridiculous hour tomorrow morning so I can practice 'hitting early'. I hate tennis. I love tennis! I'm so confused!