This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.

Post workout, pre shower. Post "whatever" and pre "why did I post that pic?"

I AM JOE'S EVER-REACHING TIP-TOES

Knock knock. Kim’s Martial Arts Store. It’s a tiny place that I used to pass by all the time back in college; half wanting to go inside, half thinking it was better suited for the Jean Claude Van Dumbasses out there.

It actually seems smaller on the inside than on the outside. Three steps and you are in the middle of it already.

Clean white gi’s (“uniforms”) line the shelves. Exotic and frighteningly sharp weapons whisper in glass display cases. Walls of Bruce Lee posters transport you into an arena of mirrors with the last person you’d ever want mad at you.

I am expecting one of those Chuck Norris types behind the counter, but instead I see a Asian woman with her baby and granny (all talking in Corean). The family scene brings familiarity, reminding me of Amy, Sun Su, and sweet baby Ooseung (the posters make me think of an action-oriented Sun Su).

“May I help you?” the woman asks.

“No thanks. Just looking,” looking for something, that is.

I browse wistfully over the Corean books: Tae Kwon Do, Hapkido, Tang Soo Do, Kuk Sool Won, Hwarangdo. I feel a bit guilty for not choosing one of them.

I’ve always liked the science behind fighting but actual martial artists used to creep me out a bit. Seems like there’s always some Steven Seagal wanna-be or a dirty-looking guy with too much hair coming out of his clean white uniform just brewing to beat someone down under the guise of “self-defense.”

I knew a guy like that growing up. “Tip-toe Joe,” the neighborhood bullies called him because he’d walk on his tip toes all the time (so his calves would get stronger). We were pretty good friends back then - he was like an older brother in some ways. But after a while, being around him wasn’t the most comfortable thing.

When he took up karate, he got a little weird and a lotta obnoxious. He’d show off by throwing punches or kicks too close to your (as in “my”) head. If you accidentally “surprised” him, his hand would be around your neck before you could say “Hey Jo-“. This got very annoying, and a little scary.

They say martial arts help find your center. I think this can be true. It’s just that sometimes your center isn’t such a good place.

My "who forgot to change the toilet paper again" look.

The Corean mother/owner hints once again,

“Is there anything else you’d care to see?”

“Oh… you’re closing?”

“Yes we are. Sorry.”

“Okay. I’ll look more later. I, uh, do you have one of those …,” I search for alternate words for “athletic supporter.” Yeah, I am looking for a cup. A jock strap. A ball sling. A nut sack. A gourd guard. A pinky protector. A cock blocker. A platemail palanquin for Ye Ole King’s Ransom. I just can’t say “athletic supporter” because it makes me think of a euphemism for cheerleader or over-zealous fan and I just can’t say it with a straight face. So I said,

“Um, one of those … groin … things?”

Where’s Chuck Norris when you really need him?

“Ah, right here,” she says as she pulls out a cup the size of a Viking shield. My eyes double in shock as I think,

I don’t know what you’ve heard about half-Asians, but I’ll pass on the “Magnum Monstercock Elephantiasis” cup. Give me the “normal but adequate” one. Thanks.

She notices my surprise, “Oh, you want one to wear under your clothes.”

“Yeeeah....”

I’m taking classes in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

I don’t particularly want to punch or kick anyone. I don’t particularly want to be punched or kicked by anyone either. Instead Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is all about grappling, like wrestling in a way (but different).

It is the art of ground fighting, takedowns, arm locks, leg locks, and choke holds. Struggling man against man, muscle against muscle, technique versus technique, in twisted pretzels of dominance and submission.

“Looks like something gay people would like,” Amy said after perusing through one of my jiu-jitsu books, “All that rolling around. I’d like to see that. Mmm hmm.”

Despite this, I have been excited about learning BJJ. It’s fun to learn new things that use completely different parts of your brain; it’s as if a light bulb is turned on in a secret room of your cerebrum that you never knew about before.

Studying medicine. Learning Corean. Drawing. Art history. Even learning various reflex-based video games. They all light up different rooms in your head requiring different ways of thinking. It’s these different intelligences that unlock new parts of who you are and enrich your life.

I’ve never actually fought anyone (except once in eighth grade) and at thirty-three, I’m not going to start picking fights now. But in this new room, I am hoping to find something about myself that I have always wanted to know.

Man or animal, gentleman or savage, or something in between. This is me in a room of mirrors just trying to find my center.

Then again, maybe I’ll quit the first time I jam my pinky.

Just not this pinky (knock on cup).

Knock on wood.

I'm looking soft in these pics. Just too tired to flex, honestly.