A while ago there was a meme that asked a person for five things they associated with me. nezumiko
1. Prednisone (which tastes like ass)
2. Martial arts
3. New York City
4. Unbridled energy
5. and Katsuko.
I now bring you numbers 1-3.
Prednisone (which tastes like ass)
Ah, prednisone. Your bitter taste shall be the fuel for my nightmares for years to come. I'm on my university's crew (rowing) team, and we're out rowing on the Genesee River every day. Fall in Rochester is moist, windy, and cold. Last year around November, I start coughing in the boat. Nothing serious, at first. Nothing that would mess up my rhythm in the boat.
Then my chest starts hurting.
Okay, okay, well, I thought, I'll see the doctor this weekend. I just have to finish this one
Then I barf up what feels like the entire lining of my lungs during a six-mile race in Ohio. Boy, was it fun in the bus coming back from that.
Walking pneumonia, the doctors say. They confine to bed and give this bottle of absolutely shitty
tasting pills called prednisone. I took them for the first time and spent the next hour gagging. I wailed to Nezu online that they tasted like ass. I guess the comparison stuck. :P
I love martial arts. Love
it. I started taking Isshin-Ryu karate at a nonprofit dojo the summer I turned nine. I won't say I took to it immediately--quite the opposite, in fact. I hated the constant drill, the techniques I had to practice over and over to engrain into muscle-memory. The beginning of my "martial arts career" (hah) consisted of me trying to get out of karate class every day and failing.
Then I discovered sparring.
Oh noes, I thought, wimpy nine-year-old that I was, I'll get hurt. But then the light switched on.
Holy crap. I get to kick guys in the nuts really hard and I won't
get in trouble for it.
Thus started my love of karate.
New York City
Rochester is about 7 hours away from the Big Apple, 3 hours if you go on plane. I go there with friends or family whenver I have an extended break. It's--
Gray concrete and flashing steel girders, the roar of traffic and the smoke of car exhaust. The chaos is muted in the morning, but barely just. Vendors line the streets, hotdogs and halal side-by-side with the peanut sellers.
In some places, the skyscrapers block out the sun.
The people are the most interesting, though. All different ethnicities, freaks and geeks and naked cowboys. (look it up on google. naked cowboy, nyc. you'll see.) I make new friends every time I go to the city, not to mention a few enemies.
It's not exactly beautiful, this smelly city, but it's pulsing with life.