Sore.

I will come with my two fists
You will come with iron bars
I will stand up tall
You will knock me down
I will brave the worst you've got
You will crush me to the ground.

I'm preparing for a storm and I cannot predict it's strength. I am still not ready. Will I ever be? I don't know what to anticipate. Whatever I've gained, the storm's gained doubly. I cannot win, I will be defeated.

So I survived the ordeal of yesterday. Actually, it wasn't so much an ordeal, more like a mountain that had to be conquered. Work, kickboxing, and MMA. I got through all three. The Kyoshi increased the pain factor last night. Over our grunts of pain he said, "My goal is to make you stop coming to this class. After tonight you will never want to come back again. Hahaha!" I nearly passed out in kickboxing. I wanted to best last week's workout, so I kept up the routine without rest. This came back to hurt me when I was doing punching bags and I nearly blacked out. MMA was slightly better. We did tossing. I tossed Frank about two dozen times, and my shoulder kills today. Frank did the same and I could see the area of my skin turned red where it had been stretched and pulled. I felt like rubber. Frank complemented me as I wiped a bucketful of sweat from my head, "Your cardio's improved one hundred percent!" That man rarely talks, and so it meant a lot to me.

Today had been a day of rest. I should've run or something. I hate sitting around, it makes my muscles sore and cramped. Watership Down is scaring me. I fear a major battle is up ahead, and I'm not sure if the burrow can handle a full out attack.

I feel strong. Yet not strong enough. I've defeated every challenge that came unto me, but it's the one I can't that I fear.

The lull.

Today is a day of rest for me, before the fury of tomorrow.

Watership Down is engaging me in a way no book ever has. I passed what felt like a climax, but I know the end is far from here. I fear what might happen to the rabbits. They came out very luckily, but they might not be so lucky to escape death a second time. Never in my life have I been so worried for the fate of fictitious rabbits. I love them all dearly, but I fear that love will work against me; I fear one of my favourites will die before the end.

A recent conversation with a friend got me thinking about Blue Whales again. They're renewing themselves in my mind as my favourite animal. They are the biggest animal in the history of the Earth. They weight about 150 tons and are about 100 feet long (which is more than the length of two city buses). They are majestic and beautiful, having an almost hydrodynamic body, made perfect for swimming across their oceanic universe. Often found alone or in pairs, they inhabit all parts of the Earth's oceans. I love their solitude and loyalty. And their large size and patience reminds me of myself.

I'm feeling myself being pulled by my friends. No matter how nonpartisan I try to be I seem to be offending someone. I just want to love freely, to everyone in my life, why must I be pulled into their personal politics? A part of me fears that in the end I might lose them all, if I don't pick a side now. Choosing between loved ones, it's a game I don't want to play again.

I've rested the entire day today and I'm resting still tonight. Tomorrow will be a big day for me: work, kickboxing, and then MMA. I will be lucky to come out alive in the end. No, I am made of tougher stuff. I have steel determination.

Single.

Seeing people around me in love, it makes me yearn for someone for myself. I miss having that closeness, that intimacy, that bond. It made me feel like I belonged to something greater. Yes, I am happy with myself and the life that I lead now. I feel beautiful and I feel confident. I am strong and I fight every day. But why does every day have to be a fight? I'm tired of fighting. Being alone means braving the evils of this world. Running through the woods alone under the blanket of darkness. Why can't I rest? I am tired of running, tired of fighting. I want to be safe now. It gets so cold here.
It would be nice... that's all I'm saying.

"The Darkness"

Under the sun I am fearless
Can this strength carry me?
Or is it all folly and facade?
The muscles ache, a witness
To every punch made
Yet they cannot overcome you.
I cannot defeat you,
For I am too weak.
In the darkness I am still weak.

Sahanmas.

I had the greatest birthday tonight. And I really mean that. This was the happiest birthday I have ever had. Tonight reminded me of the amount of love I have in my life. Like the brightest stars in the sky, my best comrades shine through ever and ever. As they have in the past. I'm too sleepy and overwhelmed to reflect upon this. But I feel happy right now. And I cannot find any other words to describe this feeling.

The illusion of strength.

Sometimes I like to think I'm so strong that I can take on the world. Then the next morning I'd see something and it would remind me of how weak and broken I am. I can jab, hook, and break fucking walls. But I can't save myself from the demons in my head. Maybe I'm still messed up, who am I trying to fool?
Clair de Lune, it's a good song. Listen to it.

The ruins of Brampton.

I went for a walk once around my neighbourhood. I passed the lake behind our house and went into a maze of roads. This area was unknown to me so I thought it made for a great adventure. How wrong I was. This was suburbia, at it's worst. It was a labyrinth of houses. Every direction I turned there was a house; pink or brown bricks, with flat facets. They all looked the same. I was suffocated by them. But I kept walking, taking random turns, hoping I can find at least a leaf out of place in this concrete jungle. This reminds me of a Mayan civilization. An outcrop of stone in what was once a forest. I'd think that in a few hundred years, if our civilization becomes extinct, someone will stumble upon this site. This neighbourhood will be a remnant of our lives. As if all this concrete and brick will outlive the flesh and blood of those that lived here. Living, is that what they do here? Because I didn't see a single life in my walk. Just the bricks. I looked at these houses and saw how big they were, how large their lawns were, how they have big porches. What do they use these lawns for? Do they even sit out on their porches? Do they even take notice of their houses, spending so much of their lives indoors?

I thought about this and then how my parents do the exact same thing. This says a lot about their philosophy. They once said, "How can we accept her into our family? She has a different culture, a different religion. How will we communicate with her parents when they see us? What will we talk about?" I think about this statement and how revealing it is of their mentality. It is not about the ninety-nine percent of the time which I will be spending with her, but that one percent of time when they will have the inconvenience of meeting the inlaws. These houses are a physical manifestation of that philosophy. It's not about the ninety-nine percent of the living they will be doing inside the house, but it is about that one-percent of time when their relatives come over and they'll have the fortune of boasting the size of their porch. Hm.