"It vexes me. I'm terribly vexed." Such a fun movie. But it's not the durchwechseln really that vexes; they're actually kind of fun. It's the pronunciation of the word itself that's irksome- there are too many silent letters and it sounds like a sneeze. And if you do it more than once? Pffft. Durchwechselnen? Durchwechselns? Gesundheit.
Actually, we started off the practice day with a four cuts/one axis drill. Zuchen, Unterhau, Kurtzhau, Oberhau- flick the blade up, continue into an unterhau, snap the blade back down, and continue with the oberhau. I have to practice those more- I do fine on the way up, with the zuchen and unterhau, but I get a little too flowy on the turn and oberhauing down, and I know my wrists twist so the angle and my blade geometry are shot all to heck. I might be able to impress my kids at school with it, but it's no good otherwise. And I definitely favor one side over the other- I can't seem to keep track of what my hands should be doing when on the opposite side with the longsword, though I'm ok swapping sides with a sabre. Weird.
But yay! This was the first practice where I didn't get any comments about my faerie-footing! Maybe it was the fact that my toes were froze. Maybe it was my trying to bounce out of the snow like an arctic hare so my sneaker-clad feet wouldn't get any colder. Maybe the Professor just wasn't looking. Or maybe my footwork actually is improving. Whatever it was, I managed to get out of the way of several incoming shots and to score my own more than once with decent form, so yay!
We moved into the Zorn orts with our partners after the axis cuts. My partner and I got in a lot of zorning, but not so much the orting. My point control is pretty lousy. On the up side, the kid less than half my age who was my partner wasn't much better at it, so at least we were learning together. He's going to be something when he catches on though.
So we're taking turns zorning each other. I get ample opportunities to practice my oberhaus as he tries to perfect his zorns, then we swap. I think I'm getting better at the blade slinging thing as opposed to muscling my blows. Professor calls out a "There you go!" as the tip of my blade finally stops where it's supposed to. Is it stupid I live for those? That little thrill that runs through when you finally get commended for doing something right after trying for so long, it's always been a motivator for me. Sadly, that means the opposite is true too though.
My papa can't carry a tune in a bucket, but he could always tell when I hit a wrong note when practicing. As I'm trying to help my partner remember how to do the next move, I realize I'm having a moment just like that- I don't know exactly what the move should look like, I just know we're doing it wrong. I'm finding that with movies some now too, which is cracking me up. I forget whether it was the Hobbit or some other film, but I was watching with a friend and found myself snorting at the silliness of a sword fight and criticizing technique. She looked at me like I was a nutter, threw a handful of popcorn at me, and went back to ogling Legolas. Maybe I just had a bit of sword envy.
We moved on to the durchwechselns. I had a tiny edge since I did them last week with the Professor, though I think the cold was trying to eradicate that. I like these... they seem sneaky and flexible and delicate all at the same time. "Haha- take that! Just kidding, take this instead!" The Professor says I should practice them on my cat, Circe. I was thinking that'd actually be fun, because she's really good at that swipe-y change-up thing, using her claws at least. But then he said I ought to use my sharp. Such a meanie! She's such a sweet, gentle kitty too. Just because she's taken a swipe at him a few times... and scratched him once or twice... and I think maybe tried to bite him....
Working with my partner, we try durchwechselning each other, flicking our sword points in little circles (ok, great big ones with aspirations of tinyness) as we practice. But as always though, I find that trying to explain something to others
helps me understand it better. Maybe that's what I need to do- start
teaching all my little minio... er, students at school the different
sword plays and maneuvers. I might have a better chance at remembering
at least. Plus I could have my own army, and how cool would that be?!
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Week 13ish - I'm Not Sorry, Dangit!
Woohoo! Private Lesson! Well, not really, but that's kind of
what it ended up like since nobody else showed up. Excellent- I'd have
one-on-one instruction. I'd get the chance to learn something the others
hadn't yet, and for the first time might actually be ahead in class.
Unfortunately, it didn't take me long to realize the down side of this perfect teacher-student ratio. There was absolutely nothing to deflect the attention from me. There was no opportunity to watch the others to figure out what I was supposed to be doing. No chance to work things out with a sparring partner. No listening to hear the questions the others were asking. And I hadn't practiced anything all week. I hadn't even brought the sword in out of the truck. (That earned me some funny looks when I went to pick up my niece, I must say.) Not so excellent.
So I was trying to recall the steps of the Döbringer Flourish, and actually remembered something about koalas krumphauing over plowed platypuses or whatever it was, and managed to muddle through it, more or less. "There it is! Now do it again!" he calls out. I live for those comments. So I do it again. And again. And another few times, just to be sure. Once he's convinced I've got that down, we move on. I suspect this is going to be like standardized tests the government demands the kids take at school- I've got it for now, long enough to past the test. The real proof will be whether I still remember it next week.
After the fancy donuts, we moved on to Durchwelseln. Durchwelselns? Durchwelselni? No idea. I thought he'd sneezed at first, anyway. I have to write these things down so I have word associations to go with them. How do you pluralize all these German terms anyway? No idea. So the Professor says we're moving on to sneezing with swords, and I feel woefully unprepared. But then I always seem to, so that's nothing new.
Durchwechseln - changing through
Here's where we see if I remember what I learned this week. If I'm weak in the bind, I kind of flick my wrists and pull my sword out of the bind, then slip around to the other side of my opponents' sword, then am (theoretically) perfectly in line for a thrust. Or if I'm fast enough, I slip around his sword before it even reaches mine to bind. Then I wind up into an absetzen to poke him in the throat.
Correction to previous post: Absetzens do NOT make my heart fonder. I do not like them here or there, I do not like them anywhere. I flipping hate absetzens. "Get your arms up!" Much grumbling under my breath, which hopefully he didn't hear. The mask is good for that at least- hiding my inventive but whispered growly threats. Why the apologies can't stay hidden too, I don't know.
We keep practicing, the Professor telling me to strike at him so he can show me what it's supposed to do. But he has no mask on! I don't know what I'm doing! I mean, I know a little bit, but not enough to inspire confidence. Sure I know I probably won't be able to hit him intentionally, but it's not that part that worries me. I'm more worried about doing it wrong, or doing something unexpected accidentally and thwacking him. I'm already running around with a sharp pointy object, which my mother warned me against as a kid. It seems like actually trying to strike someone who's unprotected with said pointy stick is just asking for trouble. You know, it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye or whatever. "Hit me! We don't train to miss!" Grrr... Fine. I snap my sword forward and come down the edge of his shoulder. I gasp out a "sorry!" and he whacks me on top of the head.
Ok... I was raised that if you did something that could hurt someone else, whether you meant to or no, you apologized. If it was bad enough, you needed to try and smooth things over and make amends. Usually that involved baked goods and hand-written notes. Normally this serves me quite well, and I usually manage to avoid getting into situations that require apologies and making up. I'm normally one of those folks who goes out of the way to make people comfortable. The "Bunny" nickname thing partially came about because of that- if you asked my friends to come up with three words to describe me, gentle, caring, and sweet tend to be top of the list.
The long and short of all that is this- apologizing is second nature by now. All the other kids at sword practice have gotten them time and again. If I score a hit, an apology follows. It might be under my breath if I remember in time, but they usually just slip out. So when I'm sparring the Professor and he's telling me to hit him, and I actually do score a blow, I can no more stop the apology slipping out than I can quit breathing. And that earns me a shot on top of the head and a snapped "Quit apologizing!" Every time.
It kills me, that disappointed growl. It hurts worse than being clocked upside the head. But I can't seem to knock off the apologies. I know the whole point is to try and hit people. I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I know they all chose to be here too and take their chances getting whacked with big metal bars. Knowing all that doesn't help. The apologies still slip. Maybe I need to learn to do it in other languages, so they're not recognizable as sorries. For the foreseeable future though, I'll just be trying to keep them quiet, hoping the mask will muffle them.
So... if I end up facing any of you in a match someday, just to be clear: I am not entirely sorry if I hit you, but I do still feel a little bad about it. And to make amends, I'll bring cookies.
Unfortunately, it didn't take me long to realize the down side of this perfect teacher-student ratio. There was absolutely nothing to deflect the attention from me. There was no opportunity to watch the others to figure out what I was supposed to be doing. No chance to work things out with a sparring partner. No listening to hear the questions the others were asking. And I hadn't practiced anything all week. I hadn't even brought the sword in out of the truck. (That earned me some funny looks when I went to pick up my niece, I must say.) Not so excellent.
So I was trying to recall the steps of the Döbringer Flourish, and actually remembered something about koalas krumphauing over plowed platypuses or whatever it was, and managed to muddle through it, more or less. "There it is! Now do it again!" he calls out. I live for those comments. So I do it again. And again. And another few times, just to be sure. Once he's convinced I've got that down, we move on. I suspect this is going to be like standardized tests the government demands the kids take at school- I've got it for now, long enough to past the test. The real proof will be whether I still remember it next week.
After the fancy donuts, we moved on to Durchwelseln. Durchwelselns? Durchwelselni? No idea. I thought he'd sneezed at first, anyway. I have to write these things down so I have word associations to go with them. How do you pluralize all these German terms anyway? No idea. So the Professor says we're moving on to sneezing with swords, and I feel woefully unprepared. But then I always seem to, so that's nothing new.
Durchwechseln - changing through
Here's where we see if I remember what I learned this week. If I'm weak in the bind, I kind of flick my wrists and pull my sword out of the bind, then slip around to the other side of my opponents' sword, then am (theoretically) perfectly in line for a thrust. Or if I'm fast enough, I slip around his sword before it even reaches mine to bind. Then I wind up into an absetzen to poke him in the throat.
Correction to previous post: Absetzens do NOT make my heart fonder. I do not like them here or there, I do not like them anywhere. I flipping hate absetzens. "Get your arms up!" Much grumbling under my breath, which hopefully he didn't hear. The mask is good for that at least- hiding my inventive but whispered growly threats. Why the apologies can't stay hidden too, I don't know.
We keep practicing, the Professor telling me to strike at him so he can show me what it's supposed to do. But he has no mask on! I don't know what I'm doing! I mean, I know a little bit, but not enough to inspire confidence. Sure I know I probably won't be able to hit him intentionally, but it's not that part that worries me. I'm more worried about doing it wrong, or doing something unexpected accidentally and thwacking him. I'm already running around with a sharp pointy object, which my mother warned me against as a kid. It seems like actually trying to strike someone who's unprotected with said pointy stick is just asking for trouble. You know, it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye or whatever. "Hit me! We don't train to miss!" Grrr... Fine. I snap my sword forward and come down the edge of his shoulder. I gasp out a "sorry!" and he whacks me on top of the head.
Ok... I was raised that if you did something that could hurt someone else, whether you meant to or no, you apologized. If it was bad enough, you needed to try and smooth things over and make amends. Usually that involved baked goods and hand-written notes. Normally this serves me quite well, and I usually manage to avoid getting into situations that require apologies and making up. I'm normally one of those folks who goes out of the way to make people comfortable. The "Bunny" nickname thing partially came about because of that- if you asked my friends to come up with three words to describe me, gentle, caring, and sweet tend to be top of the list.
The long and short of all that is this- apologizing is second nature by now. All the other kids at sword practice have gotten them time and again. If I score a hit, an apology follows. It might be under my breath if I remember in time, but they usually just slip out. So when I'm sparring the Professor and he's telling me to hit him, and I actually do score a blow, I can no more stop the apology slipping out than I can quit breathing. And that earns me a shot on top of the head and a snapped "Quit apologizing!" Every time.
It kills me, that disappointed growl. It hurts worse than being clocked upside the head. But I can't seem to knock off the apologies. I know the whole point is to try and hit people. I know I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I know they all chose to be here too and take their chances getting whacked with big metal bars. Knowing all that doesn't help. The apologies still slip. Maybe I need to learn to do it in other languages, so they're not recognizable as sorries. For the foreseeable future though, I'll just be trying to keep them quiet, hoping the mask will muffle them.
So... if I end up facing any of you in a match someday, just to be clear: I am not entirely sorry if I hit you, but I do still feel a little bad about it. And to make amends, I'll bring cookies.
Monday, January 13, 2014
Another Week - "Zorn! Zorn!. . . All Dead! O Zorn!"
The quote's from "Watership Down," by Richard Adams. Best. Book. Ever. Go read it. I'll wait....
Now that's out of the way, 'zorn' in Lapine, the rabbits' language from the previously aforementioned awesomest book ever, means "destroyed, murdered, a catastrophe"- all of which could apply to my attempts at learning the zornhau ort.
So in my head before we even begin is death and destruction. Not the best frame of mind maybe, but when we found it was the 'wrath hew' I was all... "huh, that'll work." We were working with Von Danzig's interpretation of the zornhau too, which I misheard first as 'dancing'. That may be the basis of half my weird interpretations- simply mishearing and filling in gaps with the random stuff floating around in my mind. Either way, I've now got this one internally tagged as 'dancing death'. Catchy, no?
It gets sillier. Here's my attempt at remembering the gist of the maneuvers enough to sort of explain it to the class full of 3rd graders who asked about my weekend: "When your opponent comes at you from above, take a thwack at his sword with a growl (because you're all wrathful and stuff), and when you've knocked his sword aside, poke him in the nose with the tip of your sword (always threaten with the point). If he parries that, wind your sword over his and clock him on top of the head. If he blocks that too and your swords bind together (get all tangled up), give him a bit of a shove. If he blocks that too or you can't make him move, then slip the bind, drop the sword tip and poke him in the chest. And then... um, some more stuff happens but hopefully one of those worked because I don't remember the rest," followed by lots of giggles.
It's kind of cute, really. They seem weirdly fascinated by the idea that their bunny-loving librarian fights with swords every weekend. When we head in for storytime, a few always hang back to ask if I have any new bruises, and how I got them. I caught a couple of them using "Captain Underpants" books as swords this morning, so we had to have a chat about proper care of library books, but I may have to try talking someone into doing a demo for them one day. We can make it fit the curriculum, I'm sure of it :)
I also have decided that I need to make flash cards of all these cuts and guards and such. Pictures and definitions and maybe pronunciations too. Maybe then I'll be able to remember them. Project! For now though, I need to go find a video and see if I can figure out how that zorn thing is supposed to end. The sword one though, not the one that ends with dead bunnies.
(seriously, go read it)
Now that's out of the way, 'zorn' in Lapine, the rabbits' language from the previously aforementioned awesomest book ever, means "destroyed, murdered, a catastrophe"- all of which could apply to my attempts at learning the zornhau ort.
So in my head before we even begin is death and destruction. Not the best frame of mind maybe, but when we found it was the 'wrath hew' I was all... "huh, that'll work." We were working with Von Danzig's interpretation of the zornhau too, which I misheard first as 'dancing'. That may be the basis of half my weird interpretations- simply mishearing and filling in gaps with the random stuff floating around in my mind. Either way, I've now got this one internally tagged as 'dancing death'. Catchy, no?
It gets sillier. Here's my attempt at remembering the gist of the maneuvers enough to sort of explain it to the class full of 3rd graders who asked about my weekend: "When your opponent comes at you from above, take a thwack at his sword with a growl (because you're all wrathful and stuff), and when you've knocked his sword aside, poke him in the nose with the tip of your sword (always threaten with the point). If he parries that, wind your sword over his and clock him on top of the head. If he blocks that too and your swords bind together (get all tangled up), give him a bit of a shove. If he blocks that too or you can't make him move, then slip the bind, drop the sword tip and poke him in the chest. And then... um, some more stuff happens but hopefully one of those worked because I don't remember the rest," followed by lots of giggles.
It's kind of cute, really. They seem weirdly fascinated by the idea that their bunny-loving librarian fights with swords every weekend. When we head in for storytime, a few always hang back to ask if I have any new bruises, and how I got them. I caught a couple of them using "Captain Underpants" books as swords this morning, so we had to have a chat about proper care of library books, but I may have to try talking someone into doing a demo for them one day. We can make it fit the curriculum, I'm sure of it :)
I also have decided that I need to make flash cards of all these cuts and guards and such. Pictures and definitions and maybe pronunciations too. Maybe then I'll be able to remember them. Project! For now though, I need to go find a video and see if I can figure out how that zorn thing is supposed to end. The sword one though, not the one that ends with dead bunnies.
(seriously, go read it)
Week... 10? 11? Whatever - Döbringer's Fancy Doughnuts
It was raining when I got to practice. Ten minutes late, which I'm entirely blaming on the weather since I actually left on time for once. A ten mile stretch of fog thick enough to stand on blocked the road entirely from view, and rain that froze all over my windows had me driving cautiously, which is kind of a rarity for me. Anyway, I got there late, just in time for everyone to file out of the nice warm house and out into the snow and sleet for practice.Yaaaay.
Learning new stuff! I love the new stuff, though I can't remember squat if I don't WRITE IT DOWN. I have got to start taking notes. It's getting ridiculous mixing up my Germans. Thank heavens for mnemonics and weird word associations. Jake takes us through the steps, reminding us of stuff we ought to remember. Well, the rest of them seem to remember, so really I think it's just me that forgets. Step by step, one move after another. ACK! I need more than one demo before I can do this! We pair off and start practicing after our quick intro. When Jake moves to work with the others, my partner and I watch and listen, trying to figure out what it is we're supposed to be doing, or at least, whether we're doing it right. We nail it twice in a row, then he comes over to observe and we screw it all up again. Grr. I swear it's what happens every time I take the truck to the mechanic. I hate to ask for help for any reason, and have thousands of questions. But I hate the idea of holding anyone else back, so usually hold on to them. This time though, I think I need to at least ask for more examples before the professor turns us loose. He finishes with the guys, and we busily hop back into formation. We continue to botch it several times, but before practice ends, we finally learn the steps to the dance. Sort of.
schrankhuts and krumphaus and pflugs and thrusts and ochs and ZWERCHAU!
Ok, so I like this one. Döbringer's Flourish. Will I remember the steps though? Not likely. SKKPTPOTOZ? Some Kindly Koala Put Together Piles Of Tiny Owlets? Sick Kangaroos & Kookaburras Puke Technicolor Parties On Top Of zorillas? Ugh. Ok, so acronyms are right out. And I do have to restrain myself from ZWERCHAU!ing at the end of those strikes... my pronunciation makes the professor wince.
I forget what exactly spurred the thought, but at some point after practice, I got to talking about how the name 'Döbringer' kept making me think of those old Dunkin' Donuts commercials- remember the 'time to make the donuts' guy? He's bringin' the dough! No idea how that thought entered my head, but by the time I realized it, it was too late. Then I started thinking about the 'flourish' bit. I used to play around with calligraphy, and used it years ago when I decorated cakes. I got to like making the pretty loops, enough that my signature even incorporates some calligraphic swirls now. Oooh- the whole flourishing thing seemed like maybe it was just a fancy way to get from one strike to another!
I ran the idea past the professor, and I'm pretty sure he cringed at my oversimplification, even worse at the doughnuts, though it was getting dark and I couldn't tell for sure. He then told me the history of the "Döbringer Codex," and how it's got all kinds of cool miscellaneous junk in there so nobody's really sure what to make of the book- I love that stuff. Then he carefully went back over what we'd learned that day, pointing out that there were individual moves in the sequence of the flourish that ought to be recognizable. Finally, he added that doing them smoothly and connected-ly could almost kind of maybe sort of appear to be similar to flourishing letters in calligraphy. Ish. Hehehe. I think I might be driving him a little nuts. Admittedly, half the stuff I come up with is entirely for reaction, but it's always fun to tweak his chain. So anyway, the gist is that now poor Hanko Döbringer will evermore appear in my head sporting an apron and a bristly mustache, with a sword in one hand and a box of donuts in other. But not just any donuts- Fancy donuts!
After practice and the great doughnut debate, we watched a nifty YouTube video by Keith Farrell wherein they were doing more demonstrations of Döbringer's Flourish. I admit his wonderful accent had me paying closer attention than I might have otherwise, but it's a great demonstration with all the steps broken out separately, which I really need to practice. I kind of need to practice anything, really. Maybe I just need some doughnuts for inspiration... fancy ones :D
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