Jan. 14

1/14/2026 10:30 Correspondence 118

I did much better today. At fencing. Much, much better. I have noticed something, though, that speaks deeply to my soul. I am not aggressive. That comes as no surprise to people who know me well. Or the people who know me really well, say I am deep down, while I roll my eyes. But that fact about me is so apparent in my fencing style and ability. 

I am a defender. I am a thworter. I am a dodger. I am a reactor. 

But I am not an attacker. 

I just can't seem to find that part of me. I suck at scoring. Which is not so great in a game about points. Every time I take the initiative and offensive action, I blunder or slip, or hesitate. I end up making real dumb mistakes. I would be the first dead if I charged into battle. 

But what I can do, and do quite well, is avoid getting hit when someone attacks me. I have been told by the coaches and the people I fence that I'm good at parrying. I can also anticipate and dodge a blade. 

And frankly, that's what I love. That's why I do it. That feeling when you block an attack. That cling of the blades when you pull off the parry, that gust of wind as the blade just misses you. That's what I love. I admit, it's a bit of my theatrics coming through. I love when the blades make contact. I love it when you can feel like a debonaire knight or a gentleman's pirate, locked in a sword fight. 

I just can't seem to wrap my head around the actual stabbing part. The ultimate, unassuming, quiet death (or point loss) that results. 

But I think I'm okay with that. I'm okay with not being a death bringer (for those that know).

White and Yellow

Sweat beads on you fordead cast in a million tiny hexagons

Try not to think of the sting of your thighs, longing to relax  

Nor the exhaustion of your hand, shaking with the force of a hive

Every advance feels like you are sliding through honey, towards an impossible goal 

But you must do your dance, little bee, and pin your opponent first. 

Until tomorrow, 

Calvin Landreth