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move with grace Last night when I drove to work, the streetlights were off on the main road that I take on my commute and I have no idea why. It wasn't completely dark, because the lights inside the houses were on and visible as I drove by. I rather liked it that way. The houses seemed more sheltered in the dark and friendlier without the glare of the streetlights. It made everything more rural and inviting. Once again when I woke this afternon I was in a hyperactive mood. Maybe I didn't get quite enough sleep or maybe too much. Most of the time I can't tell anymore and just try to go with the flow. In this odd frame of mind I contemplated getting back into tae kwon do again. I've been away from the sport for three or four years and part of me does miss it. I wondered what it would be like to be shouted at in Korean again. To be more of a fighting machine than person for a few moments. To be something caught between fists and feet. A flash of a white sleeve and then an impact. To sweat more than I knew possible. To feel alive in the choregraphed violence. To do something other than ride a bicycle. Exercise with an edge. Then I started to load the cd player with song after song increasing the volume as I went to vent this excess energy. It lasted for about an hour and then I came back to my senses. If I did get back into the sport, it wouldn't be as pure as I would like it to be. I always had a hard time trying to tolerate some teenage student intent on inflicting as much damage as possible in a sparring match. That adolescent rage made the sport seem less dignified and crude.
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