I like to sometimes pretend I know karate. No, I don’t go doing karate moves or breaking bricks with a chop of my hand or kicking things. I just like to tell people I know karate.
Looking at me, one does not normally think, “Whoa. I am talking to a karate master. This big, doughy, pale yet red-nosed fellow is a master of karate. I should tread lightly.” The most common thought is more like, “This guy clearly enjoys fried foods and cheese. He should take better care of his insides.”
When that type of thinking, true as it may be, fills my brain, I decide I’d like to pretend I’m learning karate. It’s a subtle difference, but it’s a smaller kind of lie or, if I don’t blatantly say it aloud, gentle self-delusion.
Fooling myself into thinking I’m the kind of guy who is taking it upon himself to learn the ancient and understandably feared art of karate helps me walk a little taller. At 6’3″ walking taller might seem a bit excessive, but it helps my posture. And I look like a goon when I slouch, which is unfortunately often.
Yes, like millions (thousands?) of people on this earth, I could actually learn karate. The only thing stopping me from doing so is my own laziness. But that laziness makes me who I am. And who I am is a big lazy guy who thinks it’d be cool to know karate even if I’m too lazy to actually study karate and… try.
The ending doesn’t read as positive as I’d hoped.