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It's Harder To Become A Ninja Than They Advertise |
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March 30th, 2007 6:02pm |
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Children do and say the darndest things, don’t they? I remember when I was a children.
When I was a children, I had the silly idea that I would grow up, fall in love, get married, and become a ninja. However, as I started college it became aparent that this life path was going to be a tough one. The registrar at the university was quick to point out that niether they nor any other college had a major in ‘Ninja’.
It was at that moment I realized it’s much harder to become a ninja than they advertise.
Sure, on television and movies they make it look easy: climb a mountain, meet an old guy, play an upbeat song, endure a montage – bang- you’re a ninja. Granted, I could go out and buy some black pajamas and throwing stars, but would that really make me a ninja? Of course not. I would need training. I would need a sensai. I would need that guy from the Karate Kid movies.
Using an online search I found no Ninja Training Centers in the western Tennessee area. You may also be surprised to learn that most sensais have unlisted phone numbers. This all made perfect sense though. Aren’t ninjas trained for stealth? Aren’t ninjas mysterious creatures? Of course. They wouldn’t just leave a trail and make it easy for any old shmo to become a ninja. They only want the best and the brightest (i.e. – me). I would have to prove my dedication to the ninja life and find them.
I just had to ask one simple but obvious question: “If I were a ninja, where would I be?”
Having found no one at Shoney’s who could train me in the martial arts I began to lose all hope. I began to think, “Maybe, you’re just not cut out for this life, Brad.” I began to contemplate other lines of work, but none would be as fulfilling as Ninja-ing. As an accountant I would never have the chance to dropkick someone (legally). When you’re an insurance salesman you don’t get any cool gear like swords or smoke bombs (legally). As a comedian/musician I would never be faced with an opportunity to cut off someone’s head. . . (or would I)?
It was then, in my darkest hour, that I realized maybe ninjas are born not made. Maybe I wasn’t brought into this world to take bad dudes out of it. I’m just a normal guy. Maybe I was born to be the ninja’s cheerleader. Maybe I was born to make the ninjas of the world look good. I’m the little guy who makes the big guy bigger.
I’m the guy who wipes the brow of the ninja after his battle and says, “Good kicking, man.” I’m the guy the ninja looks to and says in a wraspy tone, “You’re the reason I fight, dude..”
I am a ninja muse.
I don’t have what it takes to be a ninja. It was a long journey to find that out, but in discovering this about myself, I have found my purpose. It is true that I have no ancient samurai code of honor to abide by or specialized weapons or steath-like ninja abillities or awesome ninja mind powers, but is also true that I have a pair of black pajamas and now and again I do like to drop kick small animals and think to myself just what might have been.
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