And away we go....

Grapplecamp 5 starts in T-minus 8 and a half hours. Felicia, Emily and I spent a bunch of time today planning the first day in detail and sketching out the rest of the week. Thus, what will happen is what always happens: Nothing will go according to plan and we will be improvising the entire time. I'm not complaining. That's part of what makes it fun. And weirdly, it also improves my confidence in my grappling, teaching, and leadership abilities, because if everything went according to plan, then things would be pretty easy, and the trained hamsters we got for camp could do a heck of a lot more for us.

It's a great time. And we are working on making things more efficient and planning for longevity. It's all very exciting.

Almost as exciting as my evening yesterday. After a fantastic Grapple Girls tournament, during which I saw some pretty crazy grappling, Renee and Heather, two Toronto locals who are friends of the camp and sometime campers, took me and some of the other out-of-towners to a restaurant called the Firkin and Church Mouse (and if that doesn't sound Canadian, I don't know what does. Except for guys with names like Blair, Shane, and Remy) and then to a cross-dressing show at a bar whose name escapes me (I have a receipt from some drinks I bought, but the receipt is across the room and I don't feel like getting up right now).

It was a fantastic night. Heavenly Heights, Teran, and Nicolette were the evening's entertainment, and entertain they did. There were costume changes, lip-synching, obscene finger and mouth gestures, and even an almost-altercation between me and the least attractive, most irritated entertainer. She was angry b/c I was texting while she was doing her act, but I was texting myself details of the evening so I could share them with my dear readers. She seemed to be okay with that, and even spelled her name to be sure I got it.

It was fun to be part of that group of "lesbian ninjas," as HH called us. Thanks to Heather and Renee for the great time! And to all the ladies who came out (pun obviously intended) for some sparkly, sequiny, sexually muddled fun. I hope the members of the group who were a little traumatized are recovered sufficiently to start camp TOMORROW!

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to camp I am

I'm in Toronto for installment 5 of the women's grappling camp. Hanging out at Alaina's place with Emily and Chrissy. Well actually everyone went to sleep, but it's not even 9pm according to my body clock, so I'm awake, a little bit hepped up on chocolate Riesen.

Tomorrow is a women's grappling tournament. I think Emily, Felicia and I get to hang out, watch good grappling, and eat snacks. And then in the evening some of the lady campers are supposed to take us out on the town (note I reisted the urge to say "oot and aboot." Well, I resisted until about a second ago).

More to follow for sure. I have been thinking a lot about my next steps and have a bunch of ducks that I'm trying to line up. They keep waddling around, but I think I'm tiring them out.

It's almost been a month since I got promoted. The belt is a little bit floppier with wear (when I got it, it was stiff as a board), and it feels a little more comfortable, though I still stare at it sometimes. And it got me an exit row on the plane home from vacation--not first class, but still more legroom than the typical seat.

I didn't think things would change after the promotion, but they have, almost imperceptibly. While I was with my family on vacation, my mother commented that I carry myself differently, and that she doesn't worry about me the same way anymore. We talked about it a bit, and it sounds like she has breathed the same sigh of relief she did when I successfully defended my dissertation. I'm not in limbo anymore, and I don't have that uncertainty hanging over my head. I still maintain that I have a crapload to do to live up to the promotion, but now that it has happened, I am trying to settle into it and "own" the status, if that makes any sense.

No, that doesn't mean I'm acting like a self-important douchebag with a sense of entitlement (at least, no more so than I always have). I do keep joking that I'm going to gain 200 pounds, make people call me Sifu Val, and surround myself with white belts who can pick up my dry cleaning and get my car washed (because that's how they can acquire my grappling knowledge).

One thing that is true is that I have this weird mixture of relief and anxiety. On the one hand, I feel like I have nothing to prove anymore and after 12 years, I can finally get down to the business of learning how to grapple. I've been pretty mellow in my training in the past month (although for me, "mellow" is relative), and I'm spending more time watching other people train, with an eye to thinking more strategically about teaching, and about improving my game through observing others.

On the other hand, I also feel the weight of the belt. Not just in terms of wanting to be worthy of black belt status in my technique and my rolling, but also because there are more demands. One of the only things I remember from my college graduation, dazed and hungover as I was, is the college president talking about how we are now graduates, with all the "rights and responsibilities pertaining thereto." It's the same here. I get some cool perks as a black belt, some cool professional courtesies, but I also have some responsibilities and some visibility that are always going to be there.

There's more, but I'm still ruminating. I'll keep you posted, as always.

It's working its magic

I swear, my life is going to be divided into BBB and ABB (before black belt and after black belt), because I'm telling you, that thing has magic powers. *I* don't have magic powers--IT does. But I get to wear it. So I'm just along for the ride.

Case in point: I'm in Canada right now with my family for a vacation. I had to take a redeye from LAX to New York on Saturday night, and without boring you with all the gory details, I somehow went from panicking that I wasn't going to get on the flight (despite the fact that I had a reserved seat and was at the airport 2 hours early--thanks, Mom and Dad for passing on the "overly anal-retentive traveler" gene) to sitting pretty in first class. Even though I have no empirical evidence to support my claim, I'm convinced that if I hadn't had the black belt in my carry-on bag, I'd still be at LAX trying desperately to get to the Great White North.

As it was, I got a hot towel, a free chicken dinner (winner winner!), a fully reclining chair with a real pillow and blanket, and the smug satisfaction of knowing that, if only for one transcontinental flight, I was better than the people behind the curtain, the people in that other class that rhymes with "roach." That knowledge kept me warmer than the blanket. And my seatmate was a very nice, Natalie Portman-lookalike from Zimbabwe who had been bumped from her previous flight and then upgraded too. So we laughed about how we wanted to get some sleep, but at the same time we wanted to stay awake to enjoy the first class-ness of it all.

I'm sure I'll have other examples of how the black belt makes my life easier. I just need to have it on me at all times. Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my trip and planning to train at Gracie Barra Niagara on Wednesday. More on all that later.