It is 6:27 AM and I’m at the gate in Oakland Airport for my flight to Burbank. These past few weeks have been a daze and I haven’t had time to write. I’m so busy with the new job that time marches by in a blur and I have to catch myself and take a moment to be mindful and appreciate life and all the small moments that make up our experiences.
Aside from work karate has also been at the forefront so let’s start there.
As I mentioned previously I love the Cobra Kai series on YouTube. It makes me remember the ’80s very fondly and how I really don’t like the times these days. Part of it is that I’m older and just remembering my youth. The other part is that the ’80s seemed more exciting and ‘pure.’ In the ’80s MTV had made its debut, the bands played actual music instead of being corporate and thus profit driven ventures, guys drove around in T-Birds and Grand AMs blasting Def Leppard looking cool! It was a time when being awesome was in instead of this PC, metro-sexual, safe space, participation trophy of today.
It is the Friday before the Fighter’s Cup which is on Sunday. At rest I’ve mentally prepared myself but during last Saturday’s fights I lost confidence very quickly. The issue is stamina of which I have very little and it depletes quickly when fighting. It is at that point I feel like I’m going to die and just want it to end. I’ve never been mentally strong when it comes to stamina and having to keep going.
It is 4:30 AM. I’ve been exercising and going to karate a lot recently and when I have a good workout I will always wake up early, it never fails. I really did want to sleep more but then thoughts enter my head as vivid dreams fade away and the day starts.
The winds of change are blowing for me. Of course this made me think of the song “The Winds of Change” by the Scorpions which I’m listening to right now. Usually I prefer silence when I write in the mornings but this morning I’m making a brief exception.
It is Tuesday morning on June 6th, 2017. It is a gray and foggy morning and just now I hear the garbage truck slowly making its way down the street. Then I hear the roar of its engine and squeaking of its breaks I am startled for a split second thinking if I have put the garbage out or not. Only once in six years have I forgotten yet the sound triggers the thought.