More done, and some thoughts.

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Bit by bit, even on the weekend, I am able to do some of the last business I have to do. I have reserved a place for the way to my destination and I have set the wheels in motion to have a crew here to load the truck on the day I get it so that I will be ready to leave the following morning. Packing is going slow but sure. I am focusing and tracking well. The fear and worry leading up to things, I must assume, are natural. Even if it does not look like it will come together, it does. This reminds me of the weeks leading up to finals. Perfection is not to be had but perfection is not needed. And yet, I think unless I have a heart attack or stroke in the next week, I will have it all done, and well done. I suppose I am supposed to sweat things. That sweating lets me physically and mentally know I really need to get busy. The result is that things get done.

I was thinking about fighting, after reading one of my usual suspect blogs. It has been a decade since I have been in a fight. And, it had been a decade since the fight between the last one and the one before it. I wonder how much I have lost? I wondered that, too, before the last fight. I had thought I had lost it all. In the last fight, the guy hit me from behind, in the head, about three times, and he was very angry. It did not phase me. And, to be honest, when I went for him I was trying to not murderate him, consciously, and seriously. In three hits, I put him in the hospital for a week and a half. He would have fallen to the pavement if I had not caught and held him until his friend showed up and took over (and yeah, I was making sure his friend was not going to start something himself). They brought an ambulance and all. The cops knew me, and knew I avoided such involvements (I was a bouncer). I told them what happened and with witnesses, that was that, I never heard another word about it legally or socially.

I have to admit, fighting is always on my mind. I see threats, dangers, and the means of avoiding or putting those down. I generally do not need to fight dirty, but I have been in enough bad situations that I certainly know how to fight mean and I have zero worry about doing so if needed. For the most part, being in the land of milk and honey, I do not go for the kill unless faced with a lethal threat, and never have here. But, at least in my mind, I have absolutely no doubt that I have the will and the way to kill. My preferred fighting method is avoidance, these days. I will rarely just turn my back on a threat though, walking away is not done in a prone position. There are too many punks out there, of all ages. The only reason I turned my back on the last threat was he was walking away when I turned and I wanted to find out what the whole deal was about, or actually, I was sloppy.

I am weaker though, older, slower, and out of practice. I will never know how much I have left unless I fight. I have some hope I never have the need to find out again. I like leading a peaceful life. I know I still have that blood lust though. It will be there forever. I look for the threat, the enemy, the thief, and the killer. Sometimes I see them, but I see they are not for me. Sometimes I see serious ones, professionals. They almost smell different. They are unique, like combat soldiers, snipers who have been blooded, and such, but different from even these. I have even considered such an occupation, or vigalanteism. But I did not feel the call and the other, perhaps better, side of me disuaded me. The call I was hearing, as well, pulled me to a different place. However, I feel too, that God has asked me to keep what of that I can. Whether to have it in reserve or whether He will have me use it, I cannot know. That I can still see is a bit of a comfort. As I said though, I am not sure how good I still am.

I have been in many fights, fist fights. I have knocked at least 4 people out cold, I have broken more noses than I can remember, and I have been in fights where there have been 3, 4, and even 7 opponents. I learned how to level the playing field, how to hurt people quickly, and more. That was my youth. As an adult, who knows. My memories are confused. I am pretty sure I got better, or worse, depending on how you look at it. I lost the passion while in the situation. Now, it is just business. I do not get angry, I try to think tactically, and I look for the inside and opportunity. As far as I know, I have had no training. Well, believable training. Maybe my way is the natural course for a decade and a half of street fighting.

I just needed to get that off my mind. Now I can get back to thinking about the last bit of work or, more, doing the last bit of work. These little blog breaks are great though, for a thousand reasons. Oh, my lady friend returned from her trip. It seems she is planning to take me out for brunch tomorrow. She needs to do laundry, but I think that was a secondary consideration. I have a little gift for her too, something, I had promised long ago. I think she will be pleased. I know I will have my last promise to her taken care of, other than that I will pray she finds her way. And that I will be just a phone call away. I doubt if she will ever visit, for good or ill, but even that for a short term is open.

Doh! Back to it.