My Brain is Roasted

It's been so hot lately I think my brain has been cooked. I've been wracking it all day to think of something to blog about, and all I can think about is how hot I am. Seriously...

hot

I'm not kidding. I was so sick from heat exhaustion yesterday I thought I was going to lose everything I'd eaten all day. Which wasn't much. I was too hot to have an appetite. Today was just about the same. I didn't even participate in karate tonight because I was still so nauseated. I just went over all my kata after class, which is about all you do as a black belt anyway. In my dojo, at least, the black belts don't usually participate in the regular class. But I have been anyway. I'm not paying all that money every month to stand and watch. I've asked sensei if we can start a black belt class, but he won't for just us. He would if Mr Tedder would come back regularly.

Mr. Tedder, well, he kind of rubs me the wrong way sometimes. Oh, I like him as a person and all, but I don't really like the way he acts in the dojo. He is a shodan, and has been for almost 4 years. He will come to two or three classes, then quit for 6-8 months, then come to two or three more classes, then quit for several months, and so on and so forth. But on the rare occasions he does show up, he doesn't do anything but walk around telling people what to do and how to do it. Now if he wants to be an instructor, fine. But if he wants to be an instructor, he ought to be an instructor. That means being there. Consistently.

Another thing is that he's always talking about how bad things are at the dojo, and how unorganized sensei is and how this is not right and that is not right blah blah blah. He's really particular about things, and if everything is not just so, he quits. Now I'll admit that things could be better at the dojo. A lot better. But if Mr. T wants to be an instructor, which he does, I think he should stick around and try to get the problems solved instead of stomping off in a huff. But he's also got to remember that it is sensei's dojo, and he can't have everything his way. If he wants things just so, he needs to open his own dojo.

I gave James back his gi, and he gave me back mine. He hadn't washed mine. I made him promise to start washing it--in the washer with laundry detergent--not Febrezing it. I told him if he didn't, I'd never let him live it down.