tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76995996189157859842024-03-01T17:52:23.584-08:00Fighting ItJill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-35774523649493432872024-02-11T11:03:00.000-08:002024-03-01T17:51:49.214-08:00Heather<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6LywftF6OyZ7_6WWJ2D668xx79A0JQtkXW9__zv5dvmgomZokafgO2ryPVU50jdFu4cVDsIuAGCr7yMjymvTEBDv80zfGc5MAbXhRmVQtFqm_Mp0mxpT32eMdsg4w8MzX0pUb_jPE1HviekWx9CiuMf_8B37wocIfl1G2bYx_N7W4gFwuPaWytpTYsYw/s2522/Heather.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2522" data-original-width="2522" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ6LywftF6OyZ7_6WWJ2D668xx79A0JQtkXW9__zv5dvmgomZokafgO2ryPVU50jdFu4cVDsIuAGCr7yMjymvTEBDv80zfGc5MAbXhRmVQtFqm_Mp0mxpT32eMdsg4w8MzX0pUb_jPE1HviekWx9CiuMf_8B37wocIfl1G2bYx_N7W4gFwuPaWytpTYsYw/s320/Heather.png" width="320" /></a></div>It's not that we were close, it's that we were boxers. Female boxers at that. I remember seeing her at Wildcard Boxing Gym. From the moment you walk in, you can hear the ropes snapping against a wood floor, loud thuds from the heavy bag, coaching in different languages. You can smell the mix of body odor, air freshener and leather that has infiltrated the rug. Every so often, the tall bearded guy behind the desk wearing a baseball cap would yell out the make of a car. This meant you had to move it because you were blocking someone else into a spot. This was a real boxing gym.<p></p><p>Heather had wild blond hair pulled into a ponytail with strands fraying out. She was thick and muscular. Like me, she was older than most of the women at the gym. Heather <i>always</i> wanted to spar. Being that she was forty pounds heavier than me, I wasn't eager to get in the ring with her. She also had a sharp quirky energy - unpredictable. The worst kind of energy to have across from you. After assuring me, she would not go full force, we sparred. As promised, she didn't and we both got some good work. I found out she was a chemist, which intrigued me. I actually know quite a few boxers who are scientists of some kind. (They don't call it the sweet science for nothing.) I liked how authentic she was. No pretension. We exchanged numbers. She's still in my phone as "Heather Wildcard." Every boxing person in my contacts has their name and the name of the gym where I met them.</p><p>The next time I saw her was when I had a fight in Costa Mesa. As I was hitting mitts with my coach preparing for my fight, I recognized her in the ring. She had just knocked down her opponent. The ref had his hand up counting to eight and Heather was in the neutral corner waiting to see if her opponent was going to resume the match. I could see the adrenaline pumping through her veins; her heart, grit, and determination. The rest of the fight was back and forth. After the last bell and the decision was made, the ref raised her opponent's hand as the winner. Pissed, Heather stormed out of the ring. I'm not even sure if she shook her opponent's hand. Mind you, these are "Master's" amateur fights which means for people over 40, so it's not like there are high stakes. In any other world, it would be considered a hobby. But, when you are the one in the ring it's all that matters. Training usurps your days for at least six weeks in addition to your job. Sparring three times a week, running daily, doing drills, hitting mitts with your coach, and strength training drains the rest of the life out of you, especially for those over 40! You can't go to parties, drink alcohol or eat like you want. Even though Master's boxers might be looked down upon by the young ones, they make the same sacrifices without the dream of going pro or to the Olympics. This is to prove something to themselves and maybe to others. Each fight in and of itself is the end game.</p><p>I thought Heather was robbed so I wanted to console her. She was still boiling with anger and didn't want to talk about it so I left her alone. For an outsider, it might seem ridiculous to get upset over a bad decision in a Master's fight, but I knew it meant more to her. A lot of us who fight, usually have had a lack of justice of some kind in our lives so when there is no justice in a decision, it is devastating. The saying "hysterical is historical" completely applies to this situation.</p><p>The next time I saw her at the gym, she was more determined than ever. She upped her training, her bag work, her sparring. She would often bring Devo, an ugly old little chihuahua that bit people. Of course, he was a rescue. I loved that she adopted the ugliest dog with the worst behavior. I think that says a lot about a person.</p><p>She also rescued cats, which she LOVED! Her nickname was "Wildcat Heather." This is another similarity a lot of boxers have. We love and want to protect animals. Rocky had Butkus. Heather had Devo. Most of us have dogs or cats that we treasure. My theory is that a lot of us were damaged in some way which makes us overly empathetic to innocent creatures who didn't ask to be here. </p><p>On Sundays, we would make the trek to Outlaw's gym in Reseda. Brandon, the owner would host women's sparring at 10am. Women of all ages, shapes and sizes would come and work with each other. The goal was to sharpen each other's skills, not to knock each other out. When you punch and get punched by another woman, it bonds you closer than a champagne brunch. You see their insides come out, their strength, skill, strategy, pain, determination and even sometimes an intent to hurt you. But, the feelings you experience in the ring are ephemeral. Pain flashes right by, anger gets triggered and released. Satisfaction from a good shot doesn't last long. We train our nervous systems to be present while non-boxers get stuck in fight or flight. We analyze our opponents like a computer scan. Where are her hands? Her elbows? Does she move her head? Is she faster than me? More powerful? How would I beat this girl if I had to fight her?</p><p>When Heather was in the ring, you could always see her heart. Not much for strategy, it didn't matter. She was never going to back down. She had been through the meat grinder of life. For her getting punched was like having a fruit fly land on your pinky. She told me that she was a meth addict at one point and lost everything. She used boxing to take back her life. Her meth addiction was not a secret. She's posted about it and I know she was proud of her sobriety. I believe her boxing to overcome it to be admirable. A lot of people with addictions and mental illness use it to heal, myself included. The daily routine of making yourself stronger and more skilled does wonders for your soul. There is no time or place for a hangover. I admired her resilience. </p><p>When Heather took her own life, she was not boxing. In fact, she hadn't boxed for months because of an injury. One of her Instagram posts said, <i>"I am lost without my boxing family." </i>Something most people don't realize is that boxing is a community. We are all a bunch of weirdos who do this fucked up thing for fun. We're brought together by this passion and the need to physically overcome whatever Demons we are facing. We make ourselves stronger instead of tearing ourselves down with drugs or alcohol. I'm not saying every fighter is an addict or has a mental illness, but I think there's usually something going on. This passion for the ritual we practice in boxing gyms bonds us and when you see the same people every day, this ragtag group of comrades becomes your family. When you get injured and can't go to the gym, the lifeline to your "boxing family" gets cut off. </p><p>I remember something Heather said a while ago about being bullied at work or not feeling good about it, but she couldn't leave because it was a decent-paying job doing what she was good at. There weren't many positions like it. A woman from Wildcard told me that Heather used to bring her laptop in and work there because the sounds and the smells comforted her. Still, I was stunned when I saw an Instagram post that said she took her own life because of workplace bullying. Shocked and devastated, many of those who knew her are posting pictures and memories with her. Most are at the gym. Several people who knew her including me expressed wishing she had reached out to them. At the same time, I know that's not what I do when I'm depressed. Hitting the bag is much more satisfying.</p><p>Rest in Power Heather.</p>Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-1848365425135822242021-04-15T08:16:00.002-07:002021-04-15T08:35:07.281-07:00I Can't Drive 55!<p>What 55 year old uses a Twisted Sister reference?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvpZhDJabas22qp0g4vU9o2bNK0gsd9Kq2_mo2Z3-y1nFq4pn4fPOsCUBEHVnSmSnaOhBEjPs2t-n-xXM-P2rAG25Aw96v7JpREA9unIKFJuU-aCSTWdAwezF3ih_lCkN5sh9pCfWn_o-Q/s899/55.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="899" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvpZhDJabas22qp0g4vU9o2bNK0gsd9Kq2_mo2Z3-y1nFq4pn4fPOsCUBEHVnSmSnaOhBEjPs2t-n-xXM-P2rAG25Aw96v7JpREA9unIKFJuU-aCSTWdAwezF3ih_lCkN5sh9pCfWn_o-Q/s320/55.png" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>This one.</p><p>Fifty-five used to be the age of retirement, an age where one moves to a gated community in Florida, sits on a park bench and throws stale crusts of bread at pigeons. At least, that's what I thought, as a kid. </p><p>They say 55 is the new 35. </p><p>I never expected to live this long as I have taken a lot of risks in my life and have many friends who did not make it to this age. </p><p>Thank God, because I'm just getting started. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkC0LnORNJs6-LKxUiLiYqaEGxdhPL06Fncz-gGRzzUghNKolD8eSKzJqyHehWgVaD3QsILy06C7g-kg7AT6qT4ZKOu3PJKST55FTs9fkMHt2Z5k2NrOnjTiAm5-vwlzJLCOQx0QvarNy/s317/dee.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="317" data-original-width="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkC0LnORNJs6-LKxUiLiYqaEGxdhPL06Fncz-gGRzzUghNKolD8eSKzJqyHehWgVaD3QsILy06C7g-kg7AT6qT4ZKOu3PJKST55FTs9fkMHt2Z5k2NrOnjTiAm5-vwlzJLCOQx0QvarNy/s0/dee.jpg" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p>Instead of playing golf, I'm boxing and coaching boxers. I have been a student of the sport for fifteen years now, am always learning and still excited to discover new moves and to watch rising boxers make their way. My students go from no training at all, to having a basic knowledge of the sport and some take it further. Boxing is no longer the A number one in my life, but the love for it is always there and I will always use it to make myself and others feel strong and confident.</p><p>For the last five years, I have dedicated myself to learning screenwriting and slowly but surely, keep improving. A couple of these projects are moving along. Another documentary project also might break and if it does, I will be busy working extremely hard in a new arena that is daunting, but exciting. </p><p>My focus is laser-like in the new avenues I am pursuing and all of it is backed up by years of life experience; years of living my life in varied subcultures, dealing with depression, struggling as a bohemian artist in New York, having early success with my writing and then struggling again. Then, living life in a downward spiral and turning it around; shockingly (to myself) getting married later in life and staying in it for 16 years with a solid guy I wouldn't have dated in my youth because my values were mixed up; learning how to live in a committed relationship. </p><p>Then, pursuing a combat sport when most athletes are winding down or retired; accepting certain things about myself in order to rise above them; learning to have faith even when everything is looking bleak and sharing my darkest experiences in order to encourage others that overcoming adversity is a "thing."</p><p>I'm grateful to have met so many stunning people in my life. I'm sad for the ones that departed at a young age and hopeful for the ones that are still moving and shaking. </p><p>While my parents are getting older, they are still alive and I have the comfort of knowing they are in New Jersey, where I grew up. That part of my life is not gone yet. It's not "Dust in the Wind." </p><p>I am lucky that I can remember the 70's but still know how to use Zoom and Venmo. There are still so many things to look forward to, people to meet, skills to learn and improve on. </p><p>I guess this blog is somewhat of a cliche reflection of the "age is just a number," but that doesn't mean it isn't true...to a degree. I can see with my parents that their bodies are breaking down; they have physical pains they didn't have when they were young and I have to admit, it's not easy to witness.</p><p>Realizing that these aches and pains are just scars from living a long eventful life and focusing on the joy we are privileged to still have, makes it easier.<br /></p><br /><p><br /></p>Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-70296145269401256742019-04-24T08:53:00.000-07:002019-04-24T10:31:11.788-07:00Long Time, No Blog<h2 style="text-align: left;">
Long time, no blog. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehzKuvzgcB4y0FLNlr7s_soWePOEtsNIhjbbafMV8Op_mIrnFQvHIAL1_noFIM1EJknmam0-byxvbs3xkHfigdJXrhzWC4eKofuh-dQfzM6S3PTyYN4kNt5SLEmOvamUO40C0xwbbJ1C_/s1600/Jprofile+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1569" data-original-width="1600" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehzKuvzgcB4y0FLNlr7s_soWePOEtsNIhjbbafMV8Op_mIrnFQvHIAL1_noFIM1EJknmam0-byxvbs3xkHfigdJXrhzWC4eKofuh-dQfzM6S3PTyYN4kNt5SLEmOvamUO40C0xwbbJ1C_/s320/Jprofile+pic.jpg" width="320" /></a></h2>
I haven't felt like putting my thoughts out into the world lately. I didn't post much on Facebook this year or tweet. I don't want everyone to know everything I'm doing all the time. But, I used to. It's funny as we age, the changes we go through mentally. Now, not so much. I love telling stories about other people, coaching others, putting them in the spotlight, making people laugh (always loved that) and contributing to their "process." I am more like a big sister or parent than I am a peer to the folks that surround me most of the time, and I don't mind it. Not having kids of my own has been a blessing in that I can nurture the people around me that need it. My dogs will never hate me for no reason and they always want to cuddle. Not to mention, for some reason I need a lot of sleep or become a dysfunctional zombie. The need to be recognized and adored is waning. A healthy balance of acceptance and striving is what I aspire to.<br />
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However, as a contrarian, I'm not sure that I want to become "invisible" as I age. Is that what is happening? Organically, in some ways it is. One of the characters in a play I wrote was an "old stripper." When I first wrote it, she was forty, but the longer I performed the play, I made her 50. The perspective of age changes as we get older. 50 was impossibly old for a stripper. As <a href="http://www.maggieestep.com/" target="_blank">Maggie Estep</a> mused, we have come to a "sobering realization that we'd reached an age when stripping might not be lucrative." Besides being funny as hell, it is actually freeing. We have been on the planet long enough to develop other skills that come from a place inside, that is uniquely us. We are not shells to be objectified, but little suns giving off our own light. The light often shines through a computer or movie screen, but it is our light just the same. This is not to criticize women who are stripping.; it serves its purpose for sure and the material you are gathering is unmatchable, but for me, creating something and seeing it through is much more rewarding. Not being at the center of it is also liberating.<br />
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My birthday was last week. At my age, the hoopla is that I am alive, free of serious injury and can still box. My energy has gotten better so I can do more with the people that I train and I'm actually sparring again. (Light.) No more hard blows to the head as I notice my short term memory getting shorter. I will be watching a TV show and forget what just happened. I try to watch "Law and Order" so that I can guess the next scene and usually be right, but many times it is like a brand new episode. Boxing or age? That is the question. As I segway into more writing work, I will need my noggin.<br />
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Looks and Appearance - something that has always nagged at me through the years. Now, I didn't want to even address this, because as a "woke" woman, I'm supposed to accept the beautiful aging process - embrace the wrinkles and sagging. Frances McDormand that shit. But, after being a homely, little girl ignored by the male species, I was grateful when feminine things started to happen. I noticed (and still notice) that people are nicer to me when I wear make-up and don't look like a Rjiker's prison guard, which I do, most the time. I'm not above a little botox or filler if I can afford it and I do notice a difference in how people treat me when it runs out. It also just makes me feel better, like getting a haircut, or whitening your teeth. Would love for that not to be true but it is. Not a bad vice. Much better than doing cocaine like I did in the 90's.<br />
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My longstanding friendship and family bonds are strong and I appreciate them even more. That is what will get you through the really tough times and multiply the joy for the really good. Changes are happening. Look at the way I'm writing this. My stories used to be about Jersey Go-Go girls, drag queens, hustlers, drugs, dominatrixes and the Lower Eastside. This blog is like someone who has listened to 10,000 hours of self help recordings. Which is true. At the end of the day, I am embracing my age reluctantly. I still can't stomach the AARP cards that come in the mail, but I did just get my first senior discount. <br />
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As Bette Davis said, "Getting old is not for sissies," and I ain't no sissy.<br />
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-82244473913853609882018-04-30T08:45:00.002-07:002018-04-30T09:09:49.864-07:00The Mick To Her RockyIt has been a pleasure watching the women I have been coaching advance way beyond my skills. Of course, there is that little shitty feeling, but it's easy to let go of - most of the time.<br />
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Recently, I had a little burst of energy and thought that maybe I could train harder to at least spar more competitively with the women I have been training at Wildcard or Outlaws in Reseda. <br />
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I tend to find myself sparring again because there is another woman at the gym my size who needs it. I'm usually a little smaller than they are so they can gage how it would be fighting someone their size. I have learned to "play tag" in the beginning to show them where they are open. I'd rather them not risk a concussion with real sparring until their defense is much better. I have become that boxer- the stepping stone.<br />
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Three weeks ago, I started running three miles a few times a week, incorporated weight training and more light sparring. The first thing I noticed was the bad habits coming back - Looking down when I was rolling or how sloppy I was in the ring when someone really challenged me - came at me with intention. As long as I was boxing, keeping my jab out and moving around with people who didn't want to hurt me or charge at me, I was fine. My reflexes and defense are still there after three years of not being in the ring from training people to block and slip. But, the pressure. Oh the pressure throws me off - I should mention this was pressure from a person 20lbs heavier than me, but when properly trained and conditioned, this was pressure I taught myself to deal with when I was fighting. My punches, which used to be powerful for a 106lb fighter are now light tags and I can't legit keep people off me. Everyone is at least 10 to 20lbs heavier or 10 to 20 or even 30 years younger. My muscles have thinned and my energy is not what it was.<br />
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I recently turned 52 years old. Besides trying to accept my face and body changing, (Not easy) I have bouts where I get physically exhausted if I try to train like I used to. One day running and sparring and doing mitts means the next day lying on the couch drained with regret for overdoing it. Since my primary focus these days is writing and developing creative projects, there is no room for days like that.<br />
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I always tell my friends to remind me not to train like that anymore and to not let me think I can fight again because it takes so much out of me, but for some reason there is still that fighter who gets encouraged that day when I'm sharp with my defense, hitting the mitts hard with good form. There is that little spark inside of me that wants to challenge myself, test my mettle. I get excited watching experienced boxers with beautiful technique get in the zone of slipping, countering, rolling, doing fancy footwork and putting together smart combinations. I want to get in there with them. Experience has shown me that if I really put in the work, I can get much better. But at this point, why put in the work? What do I have left to prove? In 2015, at 49, I won the National Golden Gloves in the Masters division, my first time flying across the country to fight in a tournament. <br />
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But the bigger win was before that. I had to overcome panic attacks in the ring from sparring. I used to shake and cry after rounds and had no idea why. I learned I had PTSD and somehow was able to work past that in order to have 12 fights, winning 8 of them. What is it inside of me that wants to mix it up with the young guns?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Pr-Sfn7z5PWuaKs-k_fkfnOmAGI21Gv5DdBhrv0rJzynU-eLOfVI71TSPVgA3daA9S4THbGFSc1X4ORQtHO30z2GRuqEEdtKgQguLqarfEcwoCDcOD_SnMJ1z4jbyp41_ZB4cXfA64QU/s1600/Mick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="640" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Pr-Sfn7z5PWuaKs-k_fkfnOmAGI21Gv5DdBhrv0rJzynU-eLOfVI71TSPVgA3daA9S4THbGFSc1X4ORQtHO30z2GRuqEEdtKgQguLqarfEcwoCDcOD_SnMJ1z4jbyp41_ZB4cXfA64QU/s320/Mick.jpg" width="320" /></a>Now I truly understand why boxers don't retire when they should. The regimen, comraderie, body conditioning, and focus gives you a purpose like no other. Having blind faith in yourself that eventually pays off is intoxicating. But as I watch a woman I started training 3 years ago, move like a gazelle, holding her own with a pro boxer, I feel so full inside. Another woman I just started training 8 months ago, is hitting harder than ever and is finally slipping and rolling under big punches and coming back with her own combos. She has the fire that I don't have anymore and it's okay. It's time for me to be a proud mama. To be the Mick to her Rocky.<br />
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I'm about to start a new film project that is going to take every little ounce of energy out of me. It's going to require the fighter in me as well as the filmmaker because I have to get justice for someone.<br />
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This will be a mental and emotional fight and I know I still have that in me.<br />
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-46156897445018481412017-11-13T11:36:00.002-08:002017-11-13T11:40:01.719-08:00#MeAt14#MeAt14<br />
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Shy and self conscious.</div>
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Didn't even have my period yet.</div>
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Secret crushes on boys who did not know I existed.</div>
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Infatuated with Bruce Springsteen and Michael Jackson and Bjorn Borg.</div>
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More sporty than girly, but desperately wanted to catch up.</div>
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Just started to wear make-up that year.</div>
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Wanted to be considered attractive after homely tween years.</div>
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Loved to read alone in my room or listen to records with my dog.<br />
Dreamt about moving to NYC and becoming an actress.</div>
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Not popular, but had good friends.</div>
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Late bloomer.</div>
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Never would have considered dating a 32 year old man.</div>
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Innocent.</div>
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Why is this a conversation?</div>
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Not going to write a think piece about this. I swear.</div>
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Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-36189985420207373042017-05-06T18:34:00.002-07:002021-04-16T07:31:23.300-07:00Never Too Old for Mono<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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They call mono "the kissing disease." You're supposed to get it when you're a teenager from making out. You stay home from school for a few days while classmates gossip about who you got it from. You heal by watching soap operas, old TV shows and documentaries about serial killers.<br />
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While I have always been a late bloomer when it came to my physical development, my first kiss, and first husband, I never thought I would contract mono at such a late stage of my life: a stage where another woman might be marrying off her kids, winning a Nobel prize, be established in a career of her choice or getting ready to retire. I have mono.<br />
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Fortunately, I work from home so the two naps a day thing doesn't get in my way too much as long as I don't leave the house.<br />
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The dogs don't like when I go back to bed in the afternoon, so I have to crash on the couch. That way they can sleep in rectangles of warm sunlight. Otherwise, they bark at me, sending waves of guilt through my weak body. Then, I stumble to the couch and we all peacefully pass out.<br />
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Apparently, I have had mono for several months, but pushed through it - which got me sicker. I'm used to having a boxer's mindset of just forging through whatever difficulty you are facing. That doesn't work with Mono.<br />
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It's part of the reason why it's been so draining for me to work out hard or stay focused when I am writing. In a way, this is a relief. I thought I was just getting "old." I know some women can keep grinding it out for longer, but others run out of energy sooner. There comes a point where no matter how hard you push yourself, you don't get stronger and better, you just go further downhill. So you have to listen to your body. At least now, I believe I can get strong again. I just have to go at a different pace.<br />
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In the past several months, I have spent more time outside the boxing ring coaching, than inside battling it out. The idea of getting my cardio up to "fight ready" is daunting and doesn't even seem possible in this moment. The good news is that the two girls I'm training are getting closer to that, have eight times as much energy as I do, and more pop and explosiveness in their punches and footwork. It's a different kind of pride knowing I helped guide them. Also, I discovered a protectiveness I never had for myself. <br />
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Since I never had kids, I am a bit delayed developmentally. (There are other reasons.) I didn't have a reason to grow up or a way to mark time besides the death of my dog. But even then, Gary and I started over again with puppies so we basically became new parents. Being dog parents is like the movie,"Groundhog's Day."<br />
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Gary is the same way. He is a grown man with a light saber. So we feed into each other's delusion of being 28. Or,in his case, 12.<br />
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Coaching these girls is giving me the feeling of a "life cycle." I can remember when I first learned to box and the way I looked at my coaches and the girls I trained with. I remember the intense hunger to learn and get better. While I still have that to a degree, I enjoy watching the progression of my fighters- watching them go from that stage to where they are now and eventually to teaching. I look forward to the day they get in the ring and fight.<br />
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Being in their corner during a fight will be my version of going to my daughter's wedding.<br />
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As Gary and I get ready to move, I have to practice the "Power of Now" and all the other self help shit I read. We are moving into another stage of life - one with a yard in a grown ups neighborhood; one where young girls are trusting me with their training, where I am doing more writing and editing and less working out.<br />
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As we cross each dimension of life, it's difficult to accept the next one. But, you really have no choice.Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-70127825347120334932016-11-28T09:28:00.000-08:002016-11-28T10:58:52.494-08:00Finding Peace I purposefully didn't post much about the election. But I did march against hate. And I will march again.<br />
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I'm not continually posting anti-Trump articles (although that is easy to do...considering) But I am signing petitions and trying to stay aware of what else I can do to protect the right to be diverse in a country that was founded upon it.<br />
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I'm not in South Dakota, protesting against Standing Rock, but I did make a donation, sign whatever petition I could, and pray.<br />
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The dreaded Christmas season is upon us, which is stressful as it is. But on top of that, we have so much unrest in the world, fear of hateful ideologies becoming the new "normal," fear of ....so much more, I don't even want to list them because we are bombarded with it every day.<br />
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The question is, how do we stay positive and productive without "living in a bubble?" Obviously, there is a balance, but I am finding we are living in a time where I must consciously create that balance. If we live in fear and bitterness, we won't be in a place to make a change. If we completely ignore what is going on in the world, we are becoming a part of the problem.<br />
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It was difficult to have a "Happy" Thanksgiving, knowing the people, whose land we have taken, are peacefully protesting their right to have clean water in an area we "designated" them to. It's difficult to accept that WE are the assholes doing it. But, I am grateful for the life I have created- my family, my friends, the people around me, my health. We have to be grateful every day for what we have; grateful that we live in a country where there are small things we can do to make a change- even if it's just making our voices heard. I felt some guilt even just writing that. Guilt that I have that choice and others don't.<br />
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I don't want to be negative, feed negativity or feel overwhelmed by a situation that I can only do a little about - and that little bit, might not even be doing anything. When I put it out there, yes, it's annoying to some, but that's not why I don't. I'm used to putting myself out there in ridiculously vulnerable situations and accepting the criticism that comes with it. I just don't want to feed the fear.<br />
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There must be a system to live your life in a way that is not hardened to others suffering, but also where you can find some peace in your daily life. I guess the key is having faith.<br />
But is that too passive?<br />
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That's the challenge. What is the balance?</div>
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Perhaps I'm not saying anything unique, but I thought it was worth putting out there. As the Christmas season rushes upon us like a freight train, how do we manage finding peace?Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-68356286443169244722016-05-25T09:12:00.000-07:002016-05-25T20:47:53.594-07:00When the Thrill is Gone...It's a personal thing, knowing when your fight time is up. For me, I think that time has finally come.<br />
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No one wants to be the punch drunk boxer that climbs between the ropes only to get their head knocked off and have everyone feel sorry for them because their time was up a while ago and they never got the memo. Or the fighter who is no longer in their prime and has to take mediocre fights to look good in the ring. <br />
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Mind you, I don't think I'm at that stage. I just don't want it badly enough, and it's showing.<br />
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Even though it will make my parents happy that I am finally not going to compete, that is definitely not why I'm doing it. Still rebellious at my age, that would be the only reason I wished my heart was still into it.<br />
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I felt this day coming. When I really wanted to fight, even when I was tired, I would push so hard to fight back and work every day to get better conditioning. I wanted it so badly that I would push beyond my limits just to go three or four - three minute rounds in the ring. That seemed to be my limit. This is an exhausting process, by the way. People with natural energy can do a lot more than that, but I'm not one of those people. I have to work a little harder. I only have to fight three or four two minute rounds in my division and I could always get to that point.<br />
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Even though I started boxing at 40 and just turned 50 last month, I don't think it's an age thing. It's a desire thing. I'm grateful for the journey fighting gave me. I went from freezing and crying in a corner, getting pummeled on to....well, let's just say yesterday, I rested in the corner, but I was relaxed and blocking punches. I didn't have the desire or the energy to pivot out, throw back, etc. I don't feel like I have anything to prove anymore. Is it embarrassing to get that tired during sparring with a twenty-something? Yes. Not embarrassing enough to try and make myself the victor. I don't really need that anymore. That's when you know the thrill is gone.<br />
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Last July, I won the National Golden Gloves in the masters division at 106lbs. I traveled across the country, dealt with jet lag, cut weight in the most humid state of America, and fought a worthy opponent. Was I dying to do that? No. I heard this woman, Angela, wanted a fight. While she did some unsanctioned fights, she wanted to do a sanctioned one against a woman of a similar age. Planning on being there to film the Women's Boxing Hall of Fame and to possibly work the corner for my friend, Traci, I had the time to train - so I agreed to fight her. She had more energy, but I had more ring experience and was able to use my boxing to beat her. Once I was in the ring, I knew I wanted to win badly.<br />
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Yesterday, after a long time off, I decided to get in the ring and spar with someone new. She was a bit bigger than me, maybe 10 - 15lbs; a young muscled MMA fighter. I knew our coach, Wayne, would make sure that we were not going to war and trusted my defense was good enough that I wouldn't get hurt. When I arrived, my old friend, <a href="http://www.kaiyanarain.com/" target="_blank">Kaiyana Rain</a>, was there. Four or five years ago, we trained in boxing together. She went on to be a pro MMA fighter, Mauy Thai fighter and boxer. I help manage her. Very athletic, she does all of these things very well. My first round was to be with her. I know Kaiyana and she knows she can bully me and beat me easily that way. She is bigger and stronger and I just gas out at the end of the round so my boxing skills go out the window. <br />
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However, it's more of a challenge for her to try and outbox me. Years ago, this wasn't happening. Now - it's happening! But, it's okay. I want her to be the best fighter she can be. This is what she does. Does it sting a little in the ego department? Yeah. But, if I acted out of ego, I would be one hurt puppy. Besides keeping in mind that this is all she does, while I balance writing, making films and editing, I also know she is just more gifted. It's just the way it is. If I REALLY wanted to be the best boxer I could be, I probably wouldn't believe that. Or, I would just work harder. Never give up. That's what has been my saving grace all these years. <br />
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After 10 years (on and off) of boxing, I am lucky to have no lasting injuries. My memory is failing, but it was failing anyway. I got into the best shape of my life at 40 and continue to keep reasonably fit. Now, I just want to write a damn good screenplay.<br />
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Where is the joy in boxing?<br />
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The joy these days comes from teaching others. It comes from seeing the spark in a young girl's eye when her glove cracks the mitt for the very first time. It comes from watching my students who used to constantly get tagged in sparring, block and move and counter, using moves they learned in my class. It comes from working with domestic abuse survivors and seeing the joy that fills their hearts when they realize, they have the power to change their bodies, their minds and their lives. It comes from the bond with these women that originally drew me to the sport. We are a bunch of weirdos. Weird, subversive, knock-around women who understand how much we can grow, improve, balance our ups and downs, change our lives and help each other in a sport that is still not embraced by most people. It's a sisterhood that cannot be explained. That's what I love now. Time to move on.<br />
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I still wish I could like yoga...but I don't.</div>
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-79764497883098893942015-11-10T07:28:00.000-08:002015-11-10T11:24:16.783-08:00FIRED<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">For the first time in 27 years, I got fired. It was a part
time job, that I was doing for “fun.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I attempted to teach boxing at a new gym. It was a
crossfit kind of place with energetic instructors who wear headsets and bark in
sing songy voices over speakers to get people excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They teach boxing off an app.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, an app. 1 minute on airbikes, 1 minute,
combos on the bag.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sounds easy,
right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, yeah, once you figure out
what group goes on the bike and what group goes on the bag, it is easy. But,
not easy for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I was told I was not energetic enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even after they coached me extensively about how
to make my voice change octaves, talk louder, softer, faster, slower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They taught me how to “walk with purpose” when
approaching a client; to kneel down next to him to show how determined I was. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They showed me how clapping your hands next to
a person gets them to move faster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">However, I was unable to generate genuine excitement
during the class. I couldn’t yell at them like Richard Simmons to do their combos
faster. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that’s what happens when
you put a depressive in a high energy job. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my credit, I told them this when I first
saw the class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Matt, the instructor, was a pretty blonde man with pretty
muscles and pretty sparkly blue eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was over the top exuberant when teaching combinations and danced to the music
playing in the background while he blasted out commands on the speakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He liked to high five people as they made
their way from the bikes to the bags.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
seemed like a nice happy guy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next to
him, I was Wednesday Adams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqArI30tey16ep39mf0P8wmmHZK10hBh6fgr4HYX2-33-Etm0t4wwl5Z8CyQsvxHBszF1w9A-sisGyE63V5lxuWDgQ8C6jMVHHYu8DwXsh66wAVCZzVoqbQWLvpjKwSxPS6Q1YWz2nPZrT/s1600/wed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqArI30tey16ep39mf0P8wmmHZK10hBh6fgr4HYX2-33-Etm0t4wwl5Z8CyQsvxHBszF1w9A-sisGyE63V5lxuWDgQ8C6jMVHHYu8DwXsh66wAVCZzVoqbQWLvpjKwSxPS6Q1YWz2nPZrT/s1600/wed.jpg" /></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I took Matt’s class and when I saw his energy, I knew I
would never be able to teach that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m quiet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Low energy, unless I’m
drunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or angry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am unable to get so excited about encouraging
a bunch of people that I will try to high five every single one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I train, I don’t get high fived, and I’m
going to high five these people for their shitty boxing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I told the manager that I am not a cheerleader type and
would never be able to teach like that. He said maybe there was something else
I could bring to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He liked the fact
that I was a real boxer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A female.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A Golden Gloves winner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">What I do offer is a good knowledge of proper technique,
fight experience, nurturing, and compassion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m repulsed by seeing terrible technique and will make it my business
to work with people until they get it right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The reality is, seeing a room full of 20 people who don’t know how to
box, whaling on the bags wildly, was going to drive me bitchcakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">So the bigger question here is, why did I even try to do
this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t I know my skillset?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a grown ass woman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMqrWZxSUZT3_H75IY5Zyb4ic_sIt84wnYmDGeNgddhi9_2nx2A6xmFCW8OHkKJOEvcxDNmq2C8jw6TJZVwLlvrpbANsOCqLOZw0t66gMUbi38Inb_5aKCvLLNBzUePpCAZTbOLqvYMRl/s1600/joyous-female-raising-arms-excitement-successful-smiling-woman-gym-trainer-31534873.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMqrWZxSUZT3_H75IY5Zyb4ic_sIt84wnYmDGeNgddhi9_2nx2A6xmFCW8OHkKJOEvcxDNmq2C8jw6TJZVwLlvrpbANsOCqLOZw0t66gMUbi38Inb_5aKCvLLNBzUePpCAZTbOLqvYMRl/s320/joyous-female-raising-arms-excitement-successful-smiling-woman-gym-trainer-31534873.jpg" width="235" /></a><span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">As a struggling actress in New York, I had the romantic
notion of waiting tables.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After getting
fired three times, I realized it wasn’t for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s too fast paced; too many moving parts. I get overwhelmed. I was “in
the weeds” most of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
forgetful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t remember the onion
rings or the dressing on the side. And I don’t think it’s okay for people to
talk down to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m also not ...
perky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that you have to be, but I
hear it helps with tips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Does that make me a complete fuckup? Hardly, but that
feeling is familiar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fuckup
feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s more distant now, but I
remember when I got fired from my third waitressing job. It was in Gramercy
Park in a place that had high ceilings and a jazz brunch and I immediately
befriended the first gay waiter I saw, which was... immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt bad for him because I knew I wasn’t
fast enough in my section and he had to take over some of my tables.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I messed up too many times, so I was
canned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">For some reason, this destroyed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why couldn’t I do a simple waitressing job?
Even though I wasn’t “trying” to be a waitress, it attacked my self esteem. It
was like a solid punch to the solar plexus. There must be something deeply
wrong with me, I would think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I tried to become a temp soon after that, but when I
couldn’t type fast enough to pass the test, I did the only sensible thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I became a stripper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck waitressing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">After my meeting with the gym manager, reverberations of
that insecurity resonated deep down inside me. But it was a very faint feeling.
My biggest feeling was of relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being
a drill instructor is not my dharma.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I have success in other jobs that require patience, thoughtfulness,
being good with people, one on one and overseeing others in a quiet commanding
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I bring a sincerity to everything
I do and I just can’t sincerely yell at people, who are not professional
athletes, to train like their lives depend on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The manager and people who work at the place were uber nice and welcoming and cannot be faulted with anything; except trying to get me
to be something I’m not, without knowing that I’m not cut of that cloth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cloth is darker, a little rough, and fraying
at the edges.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 13.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The bright side: It’s still normal for me to push myself
out of my comfort zone to try to have different experiences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve failed so many times in life that it’s
not a big deal anymore; especially doing something I would prefer not to. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best thing that came out of this
experience is that what I used to equate with self-esteem, is now self-realization;
a story to be told, and later, become a memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-47762020639307674002015-09-03T15:04:00.000-07:002015-09-03T15:06:36.858-07:00Backwards and in High HeelsThis saying always makes me smile because it is relevant to women on so many levels. For those of you who don't know the saying and may be too young to know who Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were; they were amazing dancers in old Hollywood films. Fred Astaire would constantly be praised for his dancing. Finally, it was brought up that Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did except backwards and in high heels. Why weren't we praising the woman who was equally as mesmerizing? It's just how it goes sometimes.<br />
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I don't mean this in a bitter way. I actually find it amusing and accept it on some levels. Am I an angry feminist? Sometimes. But in reality, I just want everyone to be treated equally. I guess I am an angry humanist.<br />
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I was talking with a famous MMA fighter recently and we bonded over how difficult it can be to train with our periods. She said she would get overly emotional and not be able to control it. I would get fatigue so badly, I would walk into punches and my sparring partners would ask if I was hungover. I try not to spar during that time of the month because not a lot of good will come of it. There might be a day or two before, when the hormonal anger can push me further, but for the most part, I get dizzy and tired and weak pretty quickly which frustrates me. I start telling myself that I am too old or not good enough and will never be able to compete again. Perhaps I won't, but these feelings pass and eventually I get back into the groove. It's a constant struggle not to believe the negative thoughts during these times.<br />
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Fortunately, even though my last two fights were about a week before my period, I didn't experience the symptoms as badly. I think it could be the adrenaline in my body knowing that it had to be prepared to fight. Or maybe I was lucky. Either way, I realized that not many people talk about this because it is hard enough to be a female fighter, without whining about your period. We just try to tough it out. Let the sparring sessions suck and the new moves we are trying to learn not stick. We hope the next week it gets better and it usually does. <br />
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My recent cycle knocked me for a loop. In sparring, it was as if I thought my head was supposed to aim for the glove. I had to convince the guys in my group that I wasn't drinking whiskey the night before. They were all men so I don't know if they completely understand this feeling. When I told them I had my period, they were grossed out. Sorry, it's just the truth! <br />
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Anyway guys, please remember we are doing everything you are doing, except backwards and in high heels!<br />
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-22088804117200158892015-07-22T10:42:00.000-07:002015-07-27T19:21:19.001-07:00National Women's Golden Gloves- Ft. Lauderdale<b>The Decision to Go</b><br />
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Three weeks ago, my friend Traci and I went to the National Women's Golden Gloves tournament in Ft. Lauderdale Florida. We both knew we would have matches so it would be well worth the trip. I was already planning on attending/shooting the Women's International Hall of Fame event which was to happen on the last day there so this was an added surprise.<br />
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I found out through a Masters Boxing FB page that there was a woman named Angela Woody Huffman, who was also a Masters at 106lbs. While she has had some smoker fights, she never fought in a USA sanctioned bout against another "Master." I put quotes around Master because to me, it's deceiving in reference to amateur boxing. A Master is someone who has been doing something so often, for so long, with such passion, they have owned it. They explored every part of the thing they mastered from the inside out and have a savvy execution. The Masters division in boxing is basically people who still want to fight who are over 40. We often started way later in life (in my case 40) and are still trying to get the hang of a "young man's/woman's sport." Because we started the sport so late, we have not mastered the sport at all. Not. At. All. But I guess it's better than being called "Seniors."<br />
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Angela's picture on Facebook looked friendly and sweet. I could see she was a wife and a mother and liked to bake cakes and cupcakes with artful icing that looked amazing. She also had a little spark in her blue eyes that showed me she was much more than a happy homemaker. I agreed to fight her, so she would have the experience of a real USA boxing sanctioned match, but of course, I wanted to see how I would fare against another boxer of my stature who has been training a good amount of time. My confidence with fighting was still a bit shaky. I didn't perform so well in my last fight, even though I won, and I wanted to make up for that. My nerves got the best of me. I never fought in a tournament out of town and I like to do things that frankly, terrify the shit out of me.</div>
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I would be going with, Traci Konas, an emergency room nurse who has been competing in the amateurs for almost two years. She is very strong, tough, has great head movement, amazing cardio and a incredible heart. She fights at 112lbs. She is pretty with kind blue eyes, a fair complexion and dark hair. Her body is strong and toned and compact. At 39, she is still eligible to qualify for the Olympics. She did go to the trials in Colorado and lost a close fight to one of the top girls. Traci is attempting a Herculean task - fighting at an elite level at a later age with less years of training than the women who have been competing at that level for several years. She always gives them a run for their money and her heart can never ever be questioned. We train together at Wildcard, spar together and give each other support.<br />
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<b>Getting There</b><br />
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We decided to make the trip together, share a hotel room and make it a girls' vacation, complete with fighting and meeting other women of the same feather. We would be each other's corners and find a licensed coach to help once we got there.</div>
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After our extremely uncomfortable redeye flight on Spirit Airilines (*cough*) we got in at 7am. I was completely stoned from Ambien for the next 24 hours. Never again. The Ambien didn't even get me to sleep, just made me loopy like a mental patient. Traci also couldn't get comfortable on the plane and we were laughing at how sore our backs were by the time we made it to the hotel room bed. It would be a couple of days before we would get on East Coast time and our bodies would unravel.</div>
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Once I made the tournament plans and posted them on Facebook, I found out Susan Reno, one of the women from my film was going to be there, coaching some of the New York girls from the Metro team. She agreed to corner me if she didn't have to coach one of the other girls from her team.<br />
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Strong, confident and beautiful, Susan is a great role model for female boxers. She is another compact strong little woman (I seem to collect them) with a great spirit. She won the NY Golden Gloves during the making "Fight Like a Girl." She is a pro, and along with her husband, Mike who is head coach of the Fire Department Boxing Team, now coaches the top amateurs in New York. It was fun introducing Traci to Susan. Since both of them are in our tribe, we all speak the same language; which means we could talk for hours upon hours about our love of boxing. Of course, Susan is more of a veteran and commands that respect. It was a treat for the three of us to have lunch together at a restaurant by the water away from the Florida humidity. Of course, we still had to make weight so it was salad city for us.<br />
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<b>Making Weight</b></div>
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Traci likes to walk around near her fighting weight. Even though many of us tell her it is too light, I think she is afraid of not making weight, so seeing the numbers on the scale close to that weight gives her relief. I on the other hand, don't see the point as I enjoy ice cream. I trust that my body will drop to 106lbs even if I typically walk at 110lbs. Pro fighters have to make much more drastic weight cuts than that and do it all the time. Also, I know if I am a pound or two over, it's easy to just sweat it out. Not fun, but easy to drop. </div>
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On the first day, we had to weigh in no more than two pounds above our fighting weight. At that point, even after the plane ride (you retain water on the plane) I was 108lbs. Traci was 111lbs. We ran, shadowboxed, split salads with chicken, ate rabbit nibbles of Cliff bars and after a couple of days, I had only dropped a pound. Still, I wasn't worried, since I remember losing a pound by jumping rope in heavy sweats for 20 minutes at the NY Golden Gloves weigh ins years ago, but Traci was worried for me. </div>
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We decided to go to Bonnie Canino's boxing gym to really sweat. Bonnie runs the tournament with her partner, Yvette and offered the fighters her gym to train in. Traci and I Ubered there and worked drills in the modest ring. There was a tall, lean, lanky girl with short dark hair jumping rope, talking with the guy that worked there.</div>
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We found out she was also fighting in the tournament at 132lbs. Her name was Kim and she was from Chicago. She and her husband, Mark, came out for the tournament. They rented a car so she offered us a ride back to the hotel. This was one of the best things that happened to us on the trip; meeting Kim, a savvy vegan with a wry smile and a cool wit. She had won the Golden Gloves in Chicago and wanted to give it a go at the Nationals. Immediate bonding began at the gym and continued in the car. I need to mention that I love tall girls. At 5'1", I accept my height, but tall girls get me excited about what life could be like a foot higher.<br />
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I found out that when Kim first started boxing, she read this blog! She was excited to find other "crazy women" who did this. She followed the same women in the sport that I follow and even read an <a href="http://goodmenproject.com/arts/my-wife-is-a-fighter-a-husbands-perspective-on-womans-boxing-gmp/" target="_blank">article</a> written by my husband about what it's like to be the husband of a female fighter. She remembered it from two years ago and shared the crap out of it. </div>
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Once back at the hotel, Kim made smoothies for us. Since she is a self described OCD vegan she brought her blender, protein powder and had all the makings for delicious smoothies. AND her room was right next to ours! Her husband Mark was another tall drink of water and like my husband, he is a smart, cool Asian dude. He agreed to shoot our fights with my HD camera. Yes, we were able to get high quality videos of our fights and he framed them very well.</div>
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While walking around the hotel, from a corner, I heard, "Hey Jill." It was the sweet blue-eyed woman from the Facebook photos with her two adorable daughters, son, husband and coach. Angela came up and gave me a hug. I have to admit, I felt a little weird meeting her daughters and family face to face in such a casual way. Usually, I don't know my opponent or speak to her. It makes it easier to let go, hit hard and crave the win. Looking into her children's adorable eyes made me feel a little....awful. On the other hand, it is a sport, just like tennis. I used to have to play my friends in tennis and I would be just as competitive as playing someone I didn't know. Of course, I wasn't punching them in the face but we all know what we are signing up for when we agree to get in the ring....right?<br />
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Since we were to weigh in the next day and I still wasn't breaking 107 point whatever, Traci and I split another salad with chicken and at night, I went on the treadmill and ran for 20 minutes with my sweats on. After a good sweat, I tried to just drink little sips of water until the morning. Kim had a scale so I went next store so we could check our weight. I was 106lbs even. Kim was 129lbs, way under what she needed to be. Relieved, we went to the weigh ins. I saw Angela on line with her family and coach there to support her. She was was so laid back. What will she be like to fight? I stood next to Angela and waited on line for my turn. My nerves got my stomach churning, sent me to the ladies room and when I returned to weigh in, I was 105.4lbs on the scale. Boom! (drop mic)</div>
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Yay! Kim and I were victorious in making weight!<br />
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At lunch, I ate Susan's hamburger bun, my fish tacos, and Traci's pita she had left over. Bread never tasted so good. I asked Susan what I should do if Angela was not very good. What if she just didn't bring it? She was so sweet and laid back. Would I have the heart to really take it to her? With her family there watching? Susan said, "It's your responsibility to bring the fight. The ref will stop it if it gets too rough. Don't worry if she thinks this is just a family vacation. It's not. It's a fight." She was right, if I respected her, I would bring it no matter what happened. It was only fair to both of us and God knows, no one ever took it easy on me in a fight.<br />
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<b>The Fight</b><br />
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I can't even say how grateful I was that Susan was there to wrap my hands and that Traci stayed with me for my warm up. The support was so necessary. Nerves were bubbling up inside and I was somewhat numb. Once again, as my hands were getting wrapped I wondered, "Why the hell am I doing this? This is definitely the last time." I have thought that 9 times now. <br />
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As I went to the bathroom for my fifth pee, I saw Angela hitting pads outside in the front with her coach. I suspected she didn't want me to see her. She was hitting hard and fast with a lot of energy and great technique. My heart sped up and I started sweating. I don't think it was a hot flash this time, just nerves.<br />
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I went back and told Susan and Traci what I had seen. I assured myself that everyone looks good when they are hitting pads. (At least people who are good) They agreed and told me to concentrate on my own game. Traci and I moved around. I had her charge at me so I could practice dealing with a charger.<br />
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Kim's fight was on before mine so I took a break from warming up and cheered her on. Six feet tall, lanky and strong. She boxed her girl with nice movement, kept her back with the jab, hit her with powerful right hands and easily won the fight. Somehow it was a split decision, but I am still figuring out how they judge these things.<br />
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Then, it was my turn. Susan and Traci walked me to the ring and I got inside. My heart was pumping, but my nerves weren't as bad as the last time for some reason. Maybe because the girl wasn't a personal trainer/weight lifter who was 8lbs heavier like last time. They announced Angela who got in the ring and raised her hand like she had done it a million times, and then they announced me. I also raised my hand, playing the part of a boxer who wins. In the middle, we touched gloves and went back to our corners. <br />
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My intention was to practice being calm, feel her out and fight my fight. When the bell rang, she immediately charged at me and pushed me to the ropes. I got out of it and started boxing her. Moving around, making her miss and coming back. She was a force to be reckoned with and any thoughts of taking it light went out of my head as she came at me. I came right back at her. I wanted to punch her as hard as I could with my right hand so she would think twice about coming in. Uncharacteristically, I brawled, pushing her back with punches and force. "Nobody puts baby in a corner," was an actual thought that went through my head. In fact, at one point, I accidentally pushed her down. In the movie screen of my mind, I remembered seeing sparring sessions and fights where the other person was able to push me around and I was not going to let that happen. Especially, since in the amateurs, they usually award the aggressor.<br />
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After the first round, Susan and Traci told me to breathe. Susan was grinning and telling me I won that round but not to brawl. Box. That is what I do best. My coach, Rich, called Susan earlier to tell her not to tell me to put my hands up. For some reason, I breathe easier when my left is down blocking my body and my right is used to block punches and throw hard. Not sure why that stance speaks to me, but it does. <br />
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For the next two two minute rounds, I boxed and moved and sometimes pushed back. I ate more punches than usual since I was choosing to mix it up. There was definitely an uppercut in there that I felt! I landed a few good right hands that sent her head way back and whenever they landed, she would laugh hysterically! The little fighter in me vowed to keep her laughing.<br />
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She aggressively put me in a corner, I turned her and put her in the corner throwing non-stop punches. Ugly, but effective, I suppose for the amateurs. In the last round, we were both feeling a bit tired, but fought our hearts out. At the end of the round, I was getting upset with myself for feeling the fatigue and yelled when I threw my right hand as if to force myself to keep going. At that moment, the bell rang. Fight over. Big hug to Angela. What a warrior. Toughest unassuming mom I ever met.<br />
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Susan and Traci were grinning ear to ear. As they were taking off my headgear and mouthpiece, they said I did what they told me to do. I listened and dropped body shots when they said, moved around, doubled the right. Whatever they said, I did. I was hoping for a good outcome. No matter who's hand was raised, I actually felt like I fought a good fight.<br />
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When they announced my name as the winner, I was so happy and relieved. For anyone who knows where I came from and how I started, winning the National Golden Gloves, even for the Masters Division did not look like it was ever in the cards for me. Even though I had more fights than Angela, my confidence was not there the way it should be. I told Angela she was a tough MFer, hugged her again, got my medal and left the ring. My friend, Malissa Smith, a writer from New York who had seen my film and knows how far I have come, hugged me and complimented my skills. I said something self effacing and she assured me that she saw skills in there. Again, I know it wasn't a beautiful fight, but I did do a lot of things right in the heat of the moment. It was better than the last one against a challenging opponent. Any time I improve is a win. My rule is if this fight is better than the last fight, then you won. I hope Angela sees it as a win as well. <br />
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Overall, the whole trip was a win because I got to fight, meet amazing women, work the corners of Traci and Kim for their competitive fights, bond with weirdos like myself, and gain just a little more confidence in myself as a fighter and as a coach. My run of training hard and fighting is coming to an end for now, as I need to concentrate on my film work; but I will keep doing light sparring and stay in decent shape for my mental health, as well as coaching others. Please reach out if you want to learn to box. It's the best thing ever.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Fight-Like-Girl-Jill-Morley/dp/B00RK31WA2" target="_blank">Watch Fight Like a Girl</a> if you want to see my very modest beginnings!<br />
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Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-59100208312609173072015-07-21T12:25:00.000-07:002015-07-27T19:07:41.117-07:00RIP MaxineSo much to blog about. So little energy to do it.<br />
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To start with, Gary and I put our sweet Maxine to sleep yesterday. We decided the cancer had eaten her up long enough. The grapefruit sized tumor on her front left leg constantly oozed blood and puss and we would have to mop up wherever she decided to lay down. Maxine would feel bad about it and sometimes amble down the stairs to the basement where she liked to punish herself. The open wound/tumor also stunk up the whole house with this rotted flesh, zombie death smell. I would force myself to tolerate it at night when I would lay behind her and pet her for hours while watching television on the hard wood floor. She loved being pet and cuddled so it was the least I could do as her days became numbered. The stench was a part of her.<br />
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Until a few days ago, she was still eating pretty heartily, but as the days went on, her tail wags got weaker, less enthusiastic. Her eyes weren't as bright and sometimes, she looked uncomfortable even though she was on a steady diet of Tramadol and wet food. Her life energy was slowly escaping and we couldn't watch it anymore. She wasn't as happy as she almost always was. <br />
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So yesterday, Gary came home from work early. We took the dogs outside and sat on the grass with Maxine, Rocky and Lola for about an hour. Rocky and Lola were uncharacteristically calm and quiet. Gary and I took turns cuddling up to Maxine and telling her how much we loved her and what a good girl she was.<br />
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We were glad we got a portrait of the three of them done before she got too sick.<br />
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The artist perfectly captured all three of them. <br />
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Maxine had permanently soiled our L-shaped couch; so for the last few months, we covered it in plastic and canvas tarps. We had to put her in diapers at night so she wouldn't piss all over the dog beds. We would cut holes in the diapers for her tail, put them inside custom made cotton doggie pants and velcro them closed. In the morning, we would take out the soggy loaf of diaper and throw it out. At dinner time, I had to mash up four different medications in her food and make sure that she didn't spit any out. Again, the smell of the tumor was intoxicatingly foul. It also was probably one of the most hideous things I have ever seen; knobby, bloody with sprinklings of brain like matter and puss, but even with all this, we wanted to keep her alive as long as she seemed happy. When she didn't eat her breakfast yesterday morning and laid down sadly, we knew it was time.<br />
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I don't feel like walking through the process. Let's just say, Gary and I watched her go to sleep. Peacefully and gently, she laid down. Tears rained down my face and I breathed through a very heavy heart. Gary's eyes were red and I saw some tears drop from his face as well. We hugged and kissed her body and left her sleeping on the shag carpet on the floor at the Vet. <br />
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Depression hits me in waves of fatigue. I need more naps than usual. Yesterday, between sleep and naps, I slept a good 14 hours. I usually need 7. Working through the grief actually isn't as bad as having a depressive episode for no reason. At least I know I have a reason why I am sad and slow and foggy headed. <br />
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I keep thinking good thoughts of Maxine. When we adopted her, she had been returned to the foster parents twice. She snapped at us, pissed on our furniture out of spite. We finally "loved the bad out of her" and she became the sweetest most loyal dog. She would gaze at Gary with her big soulful eyes as if he were the dreamiest man she had ever seen. She was enamored by him and always wanted to make him happy by obeying him. We would laugh at how protective she was. When we first got her and Rocky, I would go on a business trip, come back, and she would growl at me like a jealous lover when I hugged Gary. He of course, loved this and encouraged it. Maxine was Gary's first dog. We adopted her together, were responsible for her life and made the decision together to let her go. <br />
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People's outpouring of well wishes has been sweet and healing. We know it was the right thing to do. We will miss her. But, that's part of being a dog parent, giving them the best life you can, constantly outliving them and giving them over to the other side; letting them go, wishing them well and allowing yourself to heal on your own time. We have two other dogs we are still responsible for, but if we didn't, I'm pretty sure we would start the cycle again when we were ready. After all, for the most part, a rescue dog doesn't always mean that you are rescuing them. It's often the other way around.Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-74033628481821173542015-06-17T15:00:00.000-07:002015-06-17T15:09:21.455-07:00The Hot FlashAfter three years of not being in the ring, I took a fight against a girl who was 115lbs. I weighed in at 108lbs. She did not have any fights and I was hoping my years of experience would get me the W. They did and I won. However, the win wasn't as satisfying as I wanted it to be because when I saw the video, I recognized a lot of mistakes - which is typical for me. To be critical. I felt that for my years of experience, I should be much better. Then, I remembered where I came from and how it started. In the beginning, I couldn't get through a sparring session without freezing, crying, and hyperventilating by the second round. I was fighting through other issues. It took a long time to overcome that and to get where I am today. With a little more work, I can get further. And I will.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">June 12, 2015</td></tr>
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This time, I am a little older and not as strong as I was when I started. I can still hit hard, but not that really satisfying pop I would feel 8 years ago. On the day of my fight, I could feel myself getting very hot and sweaty. This happened again when I was getting my hands wrapped. I don't know how many other boxers have experienced hot flashes on the day of their fight, but I can tell you it is disconcerting. I knew this month was going to be tougher because my cycle was coinciding with the fight, but did not know how it would pan out. It panned out in hot flashes. I tried to imagine Mayweather having a hot flash. I decided to laugh at it because....what are my choices, really?</div>
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The biggest task of the day was to relax and try to be calm enough in the ring so my training paid off. This was difficult when I looked to the other side of the gym and saw a bigger girl who, when she hit the pads, popped them very loudly. To make matters worse, my coach knew her from his days of training at Gold's. She was a fitness person, into lifting weights. She could be a lot stronger than me. 7 lbs heavier and 7 years younger. Why did I agree to fight a bigger girl? I must have been delusional. This is all stuff that can get into your head if you let it and it was knocking on my mind's door. I knew from experience to let it keep knocking until it was drowned out by another sound. My confidence in my movement, my boxing. I have sparred bigger, stronger girls and I still do. I can hold my own for the most part, even against the pros. I had to practice letting those thoughts pass through my head. Those thoughts of "What if? She looks strong," etc. For every fighter, our minds play tricks on us leading up to the fight. Some worry about their weight, others worry they will get too tired, some that they won't be able to relax. It's a constant practice of letting go of these thoughts. None are helpful. None will do you any good. </div>
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The fight came upon us quickly as we were the fifth bout. My coach, Rich, had me practice defense, movement and hit the pads. He wanted me to go in warm and relaxed. At least I was warm!</div>
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The first round he told me to take it easy and feel her out, but when the bell rang, I started jabbing and felt the need to engage. We exchanged and I got some good shots in, but it was chaotic. After the round, I sat on the stool and Rich told me my heart rate was too high. My other coach, Cliff, was calmly telling me to breathe and relax. I locked eyes with him and drank in the calming energy. Then, Rich said that I was making it too hard on myself. Just stay with my style and box in and out and it would be an easy fight if I did that. In the second round, I was able to get into a groove, get a little swag on and fight my fight. I could tell I was winning. In the third, I continued on and went in for some more combos. Even with my mistakes and awkward moments, I felt like I won. When they announced that I did, I made sure not to make a dorky face because whenever I win, I seem to make a dorky face like I am surprised. Then I have to look at the picture and regret it forever. I congratulated my opponent for getting in the ring. It takes giant balls to do your first fight and she was just initiated into the club.</div>
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Now, because of a delay in the schedule for my next film, it looks like I will be fighting in July at the National Golden Gloves. There is another "little old lady" as I like to say, who is willing to get into the ring and fight. She will be exactly my size. It will again, coincide with my cycle and I will be flying on a redeye to get out there so it will take a while for me to feel rested. Nothing like stacking the deck against yourself. But I do know, at the end of the fight, that even with mistakes, fatigue, even a possible loss, the fight will give me confidence. In the beginning, I didn't know if I would be able to survive three or four rounds, let alone win a fight. I didn't know if I would be able to relax or breathe or work through my demons enough to be present. With four wins behind me now, I beat those odds. Everything else is a hot flash of gravy.<br />
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Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-16672163219762524832015-04-14T20:22:00.000-07:002015-04-15T07:58:08.331-07:00Cougar Hooters<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWy8UhustY2W6lvhWVf0UsEBdQzthXfJ4CHFQQsP_E6mMmGTwyAncIPy9SVmfMBS69P8M9shPGRPrIzTNrvt8uOR_UB3rJFauoT8zc30nAVuBhBKzVbj5svhaDc7HZhmwi-P3lnb7RVB0K/s1600/hootersgirlswithwings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWy8UhustY2W6lvhWVf0UsEBdQzthXfJ4CHFQQsP_E6mMmGTwyAncIPy9SVmfMBS69P8M9shPGRPrIzTNrvt8uOR_UB3rJFauoT8zc30nAVuBhBKzVbj5svhaDc7HZhmwi-P3lnb7RVB0K/s1600/hootersgirlswithwings.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a>Whenever I see "Energetic! Outgoing go-getter!" in a job description, I take a deep sigh and don't read any further. I actually am a go-getter at the end of the day, but I don't want to have to act like an overzealous television host in order to get a job. <br />
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It's weird looking for work, when you are a person that does many things. I can shoot, write, edit, produce, direct, box, teach boxing, teach tennis, and take care of dogs. I am a Jill of all trades - master of nothing. My best trait is being able to work with people to come up with creative ideas to achieve what they want and problem solve like a motherfucker. I think that is a good skill, but I still struggle with how to make money doing it.<br />
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My birthday is tomorrow and I am in a serious mid-life crisis. I have my own business, but my corporate videos, events, instructional and weddings have slowed down to a heart stopping lull. Most of my contacts are in New York and I haven't lived there in eight years. I still have clients there, but since I don't see them regularly, maybe they are moving on to other vendors. I finally finished a film that got worldwide distribution and won some awards, but it will be a while before I see any real money from it. My other projects that I am trying to get off the ground are dream jobs that will take a while to develop. This "job limbo" is a place I have been in several times before, but it was when I was much younger and was willing to put myself through a lot worse in order to make a buck.<br />
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I actually saw an ad on Craig's List that was looking for "attractive women" and I used to explore those options when I was younger. But now, I live in LA and a lot of people think attractiveness and youth go hand in hand so I could be fucked just by showing up. Besides, but I am too old to take the bullshit that goes along with those jobs. <br />
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Back when I was an actress and in between jobs, I would call the go-go bars and strip clubs and get myself back in the mix. There were no major commitments besides showing up for your shift. You made cash right then and there and took it all home with you at the end of the night; stacked the sweaty bills in your drawer and lived off it until it was time to dance again. I started to write and go on auditions in my downtime. I wrote a play and even though it got published in "Women Playwrights: The Best Plays of 1998," it only paid $50, so I needed to be a stripper. However, stripping became soul sucking and I got to the point where I couldn't bring myself to do it anymore. <br />
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At one point, I considered selling my eggs for $3000, but I struggled over the idea of it. I would be nervous because I'm not sure I would want a child with my genes in the world without me to handle it. I feel like I would need to be there in order to explain why the child throws a shit fit when she loses pin the tail on the donkey or why she refuses to use a spoon or fork when eating, choosing instead to put her face in the bowl, lapping food up like a dog. I cautiously began going through the process and wrote about it in a novel that lives in my drawer. After finding out I am a carrier for cystic fibrosis, selling my eggs was not an option.<br />
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One time, I considered getting spanked for $10,000 by another girl for a rich guy in his hotel room. I was told that I would be provided with valium and xanax to alleviate the pain. However, the woman who was setting it up died of a heroine overdose before I ever agreed to do it. I hope it doesn't sound awful when I say, I am very grateful for that.<br />
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After stripping, I would do liquor promotion jobs. I would show up at a bar for a liquor company and promote the drink they were featuring to the people in the bar. It was kind of like stripping, but I got to wear clothes and retain a modicum of dignity. It was only two hours and would pay $100. Plus, I got to drink hard alcohol at work. One time, while peddling some rum, I had an ovarian cyst burst and passed out at the bar. I was taken away in an ambulance and the promotion never hired me again.<br />
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It was then that I revisited my tennis past. I played while growing up, was First Team All-State for my high school and played for a division 1 college team. I remember teaching privates and heading a kid's tennis camp when I was 21. Even though I hadn't played in years, I started applying. I called up any and all friends who played tennis so I could shake off the rust and get back into the groove on the courts in Central Park. Finally, I got hired at a club on the upper Eastside and was able to teach until I started getting serious with video.<br />
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When I finally invested in a camera and learned how to shoot, I shot in comedy clubs with a Vietnam Vet/videographer as my mentor, recorded comedian's sets and made their DVDs. Of course, weddings were profitable, but more stressful than stripping, teaching tennis, or probably getting spanked. Still, I was cutting my teeth on shooting and editing and learning a skill I would hopefully be able to use later in life. And I did. And I do. I made two award winning feature films and several shorts with the skills that I learned. I also ran a very profitable company ...until we moved to LA and the jobs started to dwindle. Still, I trust that the next thing is coming, whether it's another video job, a writing gig or Cougar Hooters.<br />
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-52369649025483732362015-02-28T11:38:00.001-08:002015-02-28T11:38:47.490-08:00Freaking REST ALREADY!So many of my friends train for fights and the week before the fight, they are exhausted, weak, sore, and more run down than Keith Richards. I know. I have been there. You think you can't possibly train enough. That if you miss a day, you will forget everything. That you need more cardio, more cardio, MORE CARDIO!!! You spar when you are tired just to get the work in and wind up taking more shots than usual and you think this is the way champions train. It isn't.<br />
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I know we hear stories about fighters who train in the middle of the night because they know their opponent is sleeping while they are getting the work in. We hear the phrase, "No pain, no gain." We know that successful people put in more hours than less successful people. This is all true, but some of those valuable hours are spent resting, replenishing, letting your body re-invigorate itself. I'm sure this is true of all sports and many professions.<br />
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The champions I know, value rest. They are experienced enough to know that when they are fatigued, they shouldn't spar or keep pushing themselves. They trust that they won't forget how to punch, move their heads, grapple, or whatever they have laid the groundwork to do. Of course, you have to push yourself, but at some point if you aren't giving your body time to heal, you are just draining yourself and wearing yourself out. <br />
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This rigorous regimen plus dropping weight will lower your immune system and I know several fighters, including myself,<br />
who get sick either right before or right after a fight. If you are a true fighter, you will probably have to learn this lesson the hard way like we all do, but I am hoping these words won't fall on deaf cauliflower ears.<br />
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"There is a time to fish and a time to mend the nets." -- Kahil Gibran<br />
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-84616331832184106862014-10-17T12:50:00.001-07:002014-10-17T16:42:44.499-07:00Still Fighting...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Still fighting ....on so many levels as are most of you!<br />
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But now, I accept fighting as a part of life. The struggles don't have to be all consuming or anxiety provoking. I mean, yes, they usually start out that way, but with practice, it is easier to deal with them and let the anxiety go. At the end of the day, you don't have control over Jack Doody. I am also fortunate that lately, I have high class problems.<br />
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Finally delivering the film to our distributor, <a href="http://www.visionfilms.net/" target="_blank">Vision Films</a>; fixing issues so it can be distributed without any technical issues. Try doing that with a film that was Frankenstein-ed together over a period of 7 years! December 1st is our Worldwide release and we will be ready to face the world.<br />
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So many times, I didn't think I would be able to come up with money or fix technical issues that I knew nothing about. Somehow, I still had faith that the film would be completed. I had to. So many people have given their energy to it. What has changed with me lately, is when issues arise, I am able to laugh it off. I address the issues as best I can and put it behind me. At this point, my barriers and obstacles regarding getting the film out there are all minutia. Background noise.<br />
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The real mission of <b>"Fight Like a Girl"</b> is being accomplished. We are inspiring women's empowerment organizations, doing screenings with mental health groups, accompanying FLAG's <a href="http://www.sheaboxing.com/" target="_blank">Maureen Shea</a>, to her empowerment seminars, screening at a fundraiser in Seattle for at risk girls who learn how to tell their stories through filmmaking. We are teaching clinics to eager young women and getting emails and messages from people all over the world who have seen the film, are touched by it. They tell us how it reminds them that they are not alone in their struggles. This was the real reason I made the film. Do I wish I made a lot of money from it and got huge awards? Sure, but I can easily live without that stuff, especially when I am hearing from people who the film inspires. <br />
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I made myself very vulnerable in this film and it will be very easy for people to throw darts at me. Now, I am glad it has taken so long to get the film out there, because I am able to pull the darts out and let them fall to the ground. I don't think I could have done that a few years back. The reality is I went through a very rough time and it wound up being documented in <b>"Fight Like a Girl." </b> It was the roughest period of my life. The other women in the film also let themselves be exposed in their vulnerability. I am fortunate they trusted me to let me film them at these difficult points in their lives. <br />
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This is not an easy thing to do for anyone, but especially for female fighters. We are supposed to be tougher than anyone. But for me, toughness and real strength is being able to expose yourself, warts and all, and still hold on to your dignity and own yourself as a person. Maureen, Kimberly, and Susan are the definition of that.<br />
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Meanwhile, I am working with an old coach who I like. He is getting me back into my boxing groove. It's a pro style that is very effective for me. I know I won't out-cardio, out-athletic, or out-power most of the people I spar with. However, I can strategize and focus on hitting and not getting hit best with this style. More importantly, it's fun! I get to get my swag on and pretend I am super slick!<br />
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I still make dumb mistakes like putting my head down when ducking under something or throwing hooks a little wide, standing up sometimes when I need to be low, and I need to be tighter...but now, I look at it as something to work towards correcting and getting better at. That wasn't always the case! I used to be very hard on myself and get extremely angry when I would mess up in the ring. (Even just a few weeks ago!) It feels better to let it go and work on it harder next time. If only I can keep this attitude up through the rest of my life....that would be a big W.Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-7870920947991800902014-08-18T18:25:00.002-07:002014-08-18T19:18:23.967-07:00Money, Money, Money<br />
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I don't like to think about it unless I am making it.<br />
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I don't need a whole lot of it.<br />
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I love the freedom it gives me since I live in a world where it is necessary to have it.<br />
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I am fortunate to have enough of it to pay for roof over my head, groceries, go to a boxing gym and do yoga. That's pretty much all I need to be happy and balanced. Oh, and buy a nice outfit or a good pair of shoes a couple times a year. <br />
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I hate asking for it. <br />
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Right now, I am believing that I will somehow manifest another $10k to put in my film so it can be seen. Unfortunately, when I exported the film, it was in the wrong format for the distributor. Chalk it up to being on the cusp of a change in technology. Yay. "Progress," as they used to say in the 70's.<br />
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While I have been fortunate enough to have someone who believes in "Fight Like a Girl's" ability to help people who suffer from abuse, PTSD and mental illness - cover the rights for my Muhammad Ali footage, this is the last hurrah. And I need it in order to get the film on as many platforms as possible. Otherwise, I'm stuck with 832 DVDs in my basement. I know it will come somehow. <br />
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In the meantime, I am cutting a video pro bono for an organization called Girl's PACT that helps empower young girls and prevent teenage pregnancy. (<a href="http://girlspact.org/">GirlsPact.org</a>) My husband is none too happy that I am still giving of my time, while I need to be earning, but I know how the world works. <br />
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Right now, I am happy to shoot and edit weddings, kid's birthdays, bar mitzvahs, performances, christenings. Heck, I'll even do a funeral! I am selling T-shirts and DVDs off my website <a href="http://www.fightlikeagirlthemovie.com/" target="_blank">FightLikeAGirlTheMovie.com</a><br />
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But, also accepting tax deductible donations for the film through an organization called Bad Girl's Boxing, which helps young women redirect negative energy into positive outlets.<br />
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<a href="http://www.badgirlsboxing.com/fight-like-a-girl-project/">http://www.badgirlsboxing.com/fight-like-a-girl-project/</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.badgirlsboxing.com/fight-like-a-girl-project/"><br /></a></div>
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I know this is more of a shitty way of asking people for donations than a blog, but if I don't do it, than I feel like an asshole....well, more of an asshole than if I didn't do it, I think. <br />
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And 3 people are probably going to read it. So, I don't have to be embarrassed for making a big "ASK" on FB. Funny, because I give to everyone else's campaigns and don't think anything of it. It's hard to ask for your own film - believe your own work is worth others investing in to be seen.<br />
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If you are disappointed that this wasn't a funny, twisted, soulful, honest blog, I apologize and promise the next one will be exactly that. But, if you are in a position where you could use a tax deduction and you would like to help "Fight Like a Girl" get seen, please chip in!<br />
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<a href="http://www.badgirlsboxing.com/fight-like-a-girl-project/">http://www.badgirlsboxing.com/fight-like-a-girl-project/</a><br />
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Thanks and Sorry!<br />
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-79821733922691282892014-03-18T16:19:00.000-07:002014-03-18T19:12:11.215-07:00Back in the Game<br />
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Vitamin B12 shot. Best thing ever.<br />
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So grateful to have the energy to work out at the gym for a good two hours. My work load lately is lighter than it has been in a while so I can afford to spend a little more time at the gym. I haven't been in fight shape since last July. The more I go, the more I realize it is a place of sanity, even though so many people in it are insane, myself included. I spend more time allowing myself to be present as I spar or hit the bag. <br />
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I am convinced that the more we stay present, the less we age. Doing anything artistic or athletic keeps you in the moment. Most artists and athletes I know are young in spirit and in mind because of this "indulgence." I call it an indulgence because I am aware that we are fortunate to have the time, the ability and the resources to be able to partake in these endeavors. Both are creative and invigorating.<br />
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Always interesting getting back into training. There is a lot of self doubt, but I just do it anyway. In sparring, I have been gassing out after two rounds, but I think that is changing. Sunday, I did four two minute rounds without gassing. Tomorrow, hopefully I will go three three minute rounds before taking a break. I can't judge it or I will quit and boxing still gives me joy and makes my body and mind feel good. I can't compare myself to anyone. No one else is like me. I am the oldest and smallest person in every gym against every opponent. I move well around the ring, have good defense, but have a hard time hitting people hard unless it's a fight. Sometimes I think I lost the strength I had when I was younger, but when I hit the pads, I can still make them crack. It's just mental. Like everything.<br />
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As far as the film goes, a couple more film festivals to go, we found a distributor and will be releasing "Fight Like a Girl" on VOD, DVD very soon. (Although I am already selling them off the website along with T-Shirts and posters. www.FightLikeAGirlTheMovie.com - My shameless plug!) We are hoping to find a good broadcaster, but we shall see. It's a different kind of film. While I know many people love it and are inspired by it, I'm certain there are others who despise it and thing I'm an A-hole for making it. They are probably the same people who think I am crazy for still sparring and training the way I do. I am getting better at putting things in perspective with the thought: They are not my audience.<br />
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Making this film has been a long haul and I know I still have to do press for the next year, but I do feel like it is finished and on it's way out there. I am already onto my next projects. We have a few more expenses for the film, but I have faith we will get them covered.<br />
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It's appropriate to start heavy training at this moment. I need to summon up my creative energy to keep moving, keep creating, keep punching.Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-1974722276932732962013-11-21T15:11:00.001-08:002013-11-25T08:30:23.587-08:00Coming Home...This is IT!<br />
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Feeling a strange combination of fright and excitement to screen "Fight Like a Girl" at the Shadow Box Film Festival in New York Dec. 6th and 7th!<br />
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Seven years of blood, sweat, tears, and a lot of my own money went into the making of the film. I was fortunate to work with extremely talented people, some of the best in the business. Also, I managed to get the patience of my husband, and the trust of three other women who really took me inside their lives, while helping me become a better boxer and a better person. Will be forever grateful to Maureen Shea, Susan Reno and Kimberly Tomes for allowing me in, in such an intimate way.<br />
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New York will always be my home. I literally transitioned from fresh faced kid from Jersey to East Village badass "nineties girl." I had every "unskilled labor" type of job under the sun there. From perfume sprayer at Lord and Taylor's to driving a pedicab, to decorating a gay S&M nightclub called PORK in the meat market district, I've experienced far more there than I'm sure I could any other place in the world.<br />
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Whenever I see that skyline come into view from my plane window, I instantly feel giddy, proprietary and like I'm home. Living in LA for five years does not change that feeling at all. In fact, I think it makes it stronger.<br />
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To be screening "Fight Like a Girl" in it's home town after playing several festivals around the country is daunting. Even though we have gotten great reviews and won some awards, none of that will mean anything to me when we screen it to the New York boxing community. I want them to feel like I represented them well, told an authentic tale. <br />
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It will be the first time the people in the film will be at the screening. They will be seeing footage of themselves from 7 years ago up until the present: temper tantrums, hilarious bonding experiences, desperation, determination, triumphs, Golden Gloves fights, pro fights and various New York gyms, Gleasons, The Wat, etc.<br />
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They will learn intimate details about each other that they may not have known during the time of filming. They will learn things about me that I never told them: things I don't particularly want them to know, but serve the story and the message of the film. So, I let those things become a part of the story.<br />
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Most importantly, I hope the film inspires those who see it to get past anything that haunts them. It's not just boxers who fight. Anyone who struggles with anything should hopefully relate to this film. If that successfully happens, then I 've done my job.<br />
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<b>Shadow Box Film Festival Screenings</b><br />
Friday, Dec 6th 8pm, or Saturday, Dec 7th at 12pm<br />
333 W 23rd St<br />
NYC<br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Helvetica, arial, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">For tickets:</span><br />
<a href="http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/501385" target="_blank">http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/501385</a><br />
<br style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Helvetica, arial, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica, arial, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">or call 800-838-3006</span><br />
<a href="http://www.fightlikeagirlthemovie.com/" target="_blank">www.FightLikeAGirlTheMovie.com</a>Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-37069171559415113282013-08-26T14:51:00.000-07:002013-08-26T15:11:15.107-07:00Oh, Miley...I was trying really hard not to write about Miley Cyrus's performance on the VMA's last night, but I can't seem to get any work done because of my thoughts around it. It doesn't need any more attention then it has already gotten, but I want to get this out of my head.<br />
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No, I didn't watch the VMA's because "Breaking Bad" is just too good and more up my alley. I knew the "shocking" things from the VMA's would show up in my FB feed, on Twitter and in Entertainment news. And, from years past, we know these things are staged, which make them anti-shocking.<br />
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Instead, I clicked on the article links, watched it on YouTube, and yawned.<br />
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First of all, there is no comparison to Madonna. Madonna was mature and self possessed by the time she was doing her "antics" onstage. I never got the sense she was "trying," serving anyone else, copying what she saw on YouTube, or battling a sweetheart-manufactured-by-Disney image. She held her own when onstage with another superstar, while Miley just became a prop for Robin Thicke.<br />
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Miley Cyrus is 20 years old. Let's face it; she is a big kid. Today, kids mature at the pace of a glacier. Recently, I was at a bar with my husband and a friend. It was a college bar. The college girls seemed to think it was funny to twerk in their short shorts in front of the guys and with each other. Apparently they think they are being rebellious, ironically sexy, or "down with the homegirls" in a tongue-in-cheek way. At least I hope it is tongue-in-cheek. The more they did it, the less interesting it was to watch and we eventually stopped looking.<br />
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Watching white girls with skinny asses twerk is the equivalent of watching little boys at a Barmitzvah in Long Island pretend to be rappers from the streets. It's just silly. Stop it.<br />
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Miley was just doing the same thing these college girls were doing, but on a bigger stage. I'm sure she will look back and be embarrassed because she is making her mistakes on a global level. The other girls are just making asses of themselves in a local hangout. Hopefully, no one is Instagraming or videotaping and putting their shit up on YouTube. But even if they are, there isn't any fame or responsibilities thrust upon them to be "role models" for our young girls.<br />
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Having been a stripper in the 90's, I didn't find these moves particularly shocking or rebellious. I'm just surprised these girls are doing it in public FOR FREE. Yes, I would bend over with my ass out, but it was in the privacy of a strip club and I was getting paid to do it. In my civilian time, I would never do something in public so lascivious or subservient. That is work. It requires dollars at the ready. I remember thinking that it was such a stupid, easy way to get money. I even laughed at myself WHILE I was doing it. I couldn't imagine it being a cool thing to do at a club where I wanted to meet people or have fun with my friends. It would feel like I was giving away my power, my dignity. I would feel like a skank; whereas in a strip club, I felt like a good employee on the assembly line. Good, honest, work. But that's me. Obviously, things have changed.<br />
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Not to mention, I am one of those skinny assed white girls. It would not be a juicy experience for anyone and I am well aware of that.<br />
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In short, give the girl a break. She's a kid trying really hard to be radical and edgy just like every child star before her. I would be more shocked if she wasn't twerking at the VMA's. <br />
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Like the night at the college bar, this behaviour becomes less interesting the more I see it, so I just stop watching and hope a young artist does something real that grabs my attention. <br />
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My un-asked for advice to a young artist: Be rebellious by doing something authentic.<br />
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-87910418490742256052013-08-20T15:20:00.000-07:002013-08-20T15:20:30.407-07:00Mending the Nets"There is a time to fish and a time to mend the nets." I got that quote from Kahil Gibran and I always remember it when I am feeling slow, sick, or unproductive.<br />
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I am the type of person that always wants to fish - keep producing, creating, and doing. There is a part of me that believes if I am not doing, creating or learning that I don't deserve to breathe air on the planet. Harsh? Yes, but I can't help that thought. It's a part of me and I have to deal with it when it comes up. <br />
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Once again, I have a cold. For every few months of good health and getting into fighting shape, I seem to get sick, have a depressive episode or get an all encompassing job that won't let me train or rest properly. It's incredibly frustrating because I never seem to get into good enough shape, or write enough, or do enough promotion for my film. I am stuck in this heavy fog that won't let me do much of anything. Perhaps it is God's way of making me slow down. Or it's just my dharma.<br />
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As the years pass, I think I am getting better at accepting these unwanted rest periods, but they are still difficult even when I put them in perspective. After all, there are people who have REAL problems. <br />
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At least I work for myself and can take a nap in the middle of the day or work late into the night if I need to. Eventually, I always do get better and can get into extremely good shape for a month or two - before the cold, sickness, or depression hit again.<br />
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Last weekend, I was fortunate to work the corner of pro fighter, Gloria Salas. She is super talented, has tons of drive, heart and athleticism. For this fight, she told me that because her car was broken down, she couldn't get to the boxing gym. She trained at an MMA gym near her house and sparred guys who did MMA. She improved her cardio, but lacked real technical boxing training. <br />
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For what she had, she did amazingly well. She lost in a close decision against a very talented, well trained Maggie Suarez. She did the best with what she had.<br />
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Now, she has to go back to Palm Springs and as I advised her, get her car situation fixed. That's the start of mending her nets before she can fish again. Then, she will need to find a boxing gym, a good coach and figure out a way to schedule all this in with her work, her children and her boyfriend. One stitch at a time. <br />
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Each day is a measure of patience. Each moment is a leap of faith.<br />
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<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-14971878176240525452013-07-25T19:13:00.000-07:002013-07-25T20:15:25.436-07:00"The Belt"I have finally done it. I won a World Championship belt. Major bling. Okay, it's for the Master's division, 108lb female. And okay, there was no one old enough or small enough for me to fight so I won by "walkover." As a competitive person, there is a huge part of me that thinks because I didn't fight in that tournament, I didn't actually win the belt. However, I am trying to see it differently...<br />
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I trained for two months at Wildcard for the Desert Showdown. Wildcard is a real "boxer's" gym. I trained alongside professionals, world champions, and amateur champions. It's motivating to hit the speed bag and try to match the rythm of the pro hitting it next to me. Sparring in front of Freddie Roach is daunting. I once glanced over when the start bell rang and I saw him looking rather amused, in a good way. I imagined he liked my swag.<br />
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This past training camp was difficult in that I sparred tougher girls than usual. We went harder than I had been going in a long time and I had to step it up or give up. I had to drive all the way to Hollywood from the West side four to five times a week. I had more self doubt than usual. I expected more from myself because this was going to be my 8th fight so if I didn't get the results right away, I would become extremely frustrated. I have been a student of boxing for 7 years and learned a lot of different styles. Some of them suit me and some don't, but I do them anyway for the challenge.<br />
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Superman, my coach, upped my game, made me hit harder, sit on my punches, had me spar girls who were way bigger than me as well as two nationally ranked 16 year old amateurs. You think 16 year old girls can't get their fight on? Try sparring Julie Ladisa or Krysten Juarez, the 106lb and 110lbs national champions. Little tanks that don't run out of gas vs. my motorbike that putts in bits and spurts and once in a while, pops a wheelie. The gas tank has gotten smaller with age, but the will is still strong. At 47, I have been boxing on and off for 7 years. At 16, they have both been boxing longer and more consistently than I have. The footwork, shoulder rotations and defensive movements are built into their little bodies. I still have to tell myself not to hold my breath when punching.<br />
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There is a humility that comes with being smaller, older, less athletic, and less talented than a lot of my sparring partners. I know I have to work harder to get middle of the road results. To get "great" results, I have to really commit myself and lose myself in the sport. As a woman who owns her own business, produces corporate videos, is a wife, a mother of two doggies, manages an MMA fighter, and is marketing a film that is just coming out, I can't lose myself for too long. I also know that my "great" most likely won't match up with those top girls, but for short bursts of time, I do love having that kind of focus and commitment to the sport. I get better, stronger and last longer in the ring. The moments when I execute a move I was working on with my coach are the most rewarding and probably one of the reasons I still do it.<br />
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The last two weeks before the tournament, I was driving myself intensely, sparring hard, running, and convincing myself that I could beat any other woman my age, my size in an amateur tournament. This is not easy to do, when you are clearly not dominating most sparring sessions!<br />
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Making weight was tougher this time because I got my period that week. Hello, three extra pounds I usually don't have to cut. The morning of the tournament, I had to wake up at 5am, drive two and a half hours, weigh in, and wait to see if I got a fight. Walking past the other boxers on my way to weigh in, I got a lot of looks. <br />
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"You're fighting?" a young boxer asked me. <br />
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"Yup," I said. <br />
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I don't know if people do a double take because I am a woman, I am old, or I am very small. Maybe all three, but it just makes me walk stronger. Like I belong there.<br />
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After weighing in and waiting around for a while, we discover that the only other "Master" boxer (i.e. older) is 132lbs. Too big for me to fight. They only allow an 8lb difference. I would spend the rest of the day cheering on my teammates and watching the three ring circus that is amateur boxing. Literally three rings with fights all happening at the same time.<br />
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What I really enjoyed seeing was all the little girls putting it out there. They were as young as 8 years old. Many of them had ponytails, big pink gloves and skinny little legs. Each one of them fought with all their might, never backing down and giving it their all. I kept thinking how this experience will help them later in life with their self esteem.<br />
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At the end of the day, Superman talked to the promotor and the officials, told them I won by "walkover" and they gave me a belt. I was slightly embarrassed and tried to hide it, which is difficult because it is bigger than I am. Three of my other teammates also won belts. One also won by walkover but he didn't seem embarrassed at all. He was proud. After all, the winning is done by the hours you spend in the gym training and we did that. I decided to wear the belt more proudly. <br />
I decided my belt represents persistence, hard work, overcoming obstacles, not being afraid to get into the ring with pros or amateur champions. It's for 7 years of training, the fights I won, the fights I lost, the fights I was robbed, and the sparring with other boxers to prepare them for their fights. <br />
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Hell, it's for actually finishing an independent film about the women I admire most; the women who participate in a sport that is unforgiving, not financially rewarding, and does not give due credit to their accomplishments the way men receive in the same sport. <br />
<br />
I'll take that belt and I will wear it proudly.Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-66375999534698230832013-05-27T08:37:00.002-07:002013-05-27T08:45:50.615-07:00To FatigueWe made it through our first few festivals and even got some great reviews and write-ups. More importantly, people seem to be inspired by the women's stories and I have met more women and girls who, after watching, "Fight Like A Girl" want to try boxing! I intend to start up some clinics again soon.<br />
<br />
Even when you finish a film, the next phase is daunting - how do you get it out there? Which is the right distributor? Should I sell DVDs right away? How can I get more screenings? More good press? How can I sell this to television? What more should I be doing to get it out there? Oh, and....Do I really want people seeing this and judging me?<br />
<br />
I don't think it's a coincidence that I have stepped up my boxing training . Decided to train at Wildcard twice a week and spar three times a week. Work on my weaknesses as a boxer and as a person. I suppose other sports do that, but for me, boxing is so concrete. Because it is just you vs. ....you. Yes, that other person is in the ring with you, and may even be more athletic, in better shape, more talented, etc, but how you deal with it is what creates the fighter within you. I am always reminded of this whenever I decide to up my training and mix it up in the ring. I am forced to be patient with myself even if I am getting hit with shots I don't think I should be getting hit with. It's just more room for improvement. Developing that kind of mentality is difficult but a must for anyone who wants to be good at anything where they put themselves out there. Every time you start over, you have to be humble, take your lumps and as you go, build your skill and confidence.<br />
<br />
Boxing, acting, singing, being a comedian, a dancer, an artist, a writer or a filmmaker means that you are going to put yourself out there for judgement by expressing yourself in the art that you choose. How much can you listen and get better and how much is it that the critic just doesn't understand your voice or your style? How much does it even matter?<br />
<br />
As I am actually starting to take a liking to yoga (shocker), I did a very gentle class last night and marveled at how foreign it was to me. We used blocks if we weren't flexible enough to reach poses and were told not to push ourselves too hard. Be gentle with ourselves. Such a foreign concept for someone like me. I was just pushing myself hard in the morning sparring because I want to be able to go more rounds without gassing out. When we build muscle and in cardio, we work ourselves to fatigue. That is the only way to get better. But, that's not always the thing our body or mind needs. I am reminded of that as I am gently stretching my hip flexers and letting go of the thought that it's just not enough. Other people are more flexible. Other people's poses look better. It doesn't matter anymore because I am practicing being gentle with myself and improving at my own pace.<br />
<br />
If only we could learn to do that until fatigue. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-24721165788300842972013-03-10T15:35:00.002-07:002013-03-10T15:36:38.002-07:00Coming Out<br />
<br />
"I'm coming out. I want the world to know. Want to let it show..."<br />
<br />
FINALLY- "Fight Like A Girl" got into some festivals. They may not be the ones I dreamed of, but they are the ones it is meant to screen in. It has been 7 years since I started making this film and shitloads have happened during that time:<br />
<br />
* I overcame severe PTSD symptoms I had during sparring<br />
* I bond with pretty much every woman who fights who isn't closed off<br />
*My business is growing stronger and I am getting more confident in asking what I am worth<br />
* Even when I am not in "fight shape," I am in good shape. Sick shape for a woman of my years (hate adding that, but it's the damn truth!)<br />
* My confidence as a person has grown - I know I can take a beating and keep going. <br />
* My skill level has improved 100% from when I first started. I don't have to take that beating I used to! In fact, I am completely embarrassed by the way I box in the film and sad in a way that people will probably think that that is the way I box. But, the movie is not about my ego. It's about helping others who have been through things. Hopefully, helping them find their strength through their own struggles.<br />
<br />
The idea of people seeing this film terrifies me. I reveal so much of myself. Things that I am not exactly proud of...to say the least. Okay, things I absolutely hate about myself.<br />
<br />
I also reveal the vulnerabilities of the women who trusted me to be in this film. I pray they like how they are portrayed. Their faith in me was unconditional and I want to honor them.<br />
<br />
I also tell some truths that I am afraid may have personal repercussions. But they are my truths and if I didn't tell them, I would be holding back - lying, in a way.<br />
<br />
I am afraid people will say the film is self-indulgent, I am a pussy, I suck at boxing, I am fat and ugly, I am old, my shooting sucks and that I am a sucky filmmaker. There, I said it before you did. <br />
<br />
Those thoughts and feelings kept me from truly wanting to get this film out into the world, but the film is not about me. I knew this when I made it. I know I am not the only one who feels the way I do even when I am in my darkest times. I know other female fighters who have suffered terrible abuse; way worse than I did. There are women and men who suffer terribly from depression and other mental illnesses that are just now being acknowledged as illnesses that deserve treatment instead of judgement. As much as each as us has been through and as much punishment each of us has taken, we have found a way to continue on, even if it's one second at a time. Fuck one day at a time. One second at a time.<br />
<br />
Once, a friend brought to my attention the real reason I was making "Fight Like A Girl," the original intention, I was able to have a breakthrough. Yes, I do want this out in the world. And at the end of the day, I don't care what you think of me. After all, my favorite public people have tweeters viscerally spewing hate into their feeds. It's just going to happen. <br />
<br />
The fact is, in private screenings, I have seen the film inspire people. I have seen people cry. It is not a perfect film and I won't make excuses for it. But, I won't apologize for it either. It's just something I had to do.<br />
<br />
I am looking forward to hearing what like-minded people have to say as well as some who just won't get it at all. <br />
<br />
I'm letting it go. I'm coming out.<br />
<br />Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7699599618915785984.post-37151301947334749272012-11-21T13:07:00.001-08:002012-11-24T09:36:53.871-08:00Emerging....Again<br />
<br />
<br />
Depression is life's most formidable foe. It doesn't matter how well you
counter punch or can tell a feint from a real punch. It doesn't matter
how well you bob and weave, or how good your footwork is. Depression is
inside you, and it's there for as many rounds as you are. --- B<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Emerging....Again</span><br />
<br />
Coming out of an overwhelming depression is like swimming up from the<br />
deep end of the pool with heavy weights attached to your body. You<br />
aren’t sure if you will make it all the way up or survive the journey<br />
at all. You tell yourself, “This too shall pass,” while your<br />
Depression says, “Yes, but I will come again. And again and again.<br />
I’m an addiction you cannot beat.” You consider this fact and wonder<br />
if you can keep surviving these spells or if you want to keep fighting<br />
this continuous battle. Each time, it gets a little worse. You are a<br />
little older and a little less likely to beat it. That’s what<br />
Depression tells you.<br />
<br />
You wonder how long it will take for your dogs, family and friends to<br />
get over your passing and start fantasizing a new happy blonde wife<br />
for your husband. “Make sure she doesn’t have depression,” I tell<br />
Gary.<br />
<br />
The crazy thing is you know things aren’t that bad in your life. You<br />
are just having some kind of chemical pressure in your brain. It’s<br />
pressing on your will to live. It exhausts you, drains you and tries<br />
to coax you into ending it all, like a cartoon devil on your shoulder.<br />
<br />
I am emerging from another bout. I don’t feel victorious yet, but the<br />
fact that I’m still here means I won.Jill Morleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10795152098160742006noreply@blogger.com3