boundcreature

*** WARNING ***

ANGRY BOY RANT : READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Fucking, fuck fuckety fuck fuck. I'm tired as shit and I go all the way to the Taekwondo school to (hopefully) get my ass handed to me by people who spar on a regular basis (I haven't sparred seriously in years) and I DON'T EVEN GET TO FIGHT!!!!

AGHHHH!!! The class is arranged for one set of people to fight at a time. So the instructor picks two volunteers for every round and they fight. Well I raised my hand for every single round and not once did I get a chance to spar. I ended up getting all of this stupid gear on (only sissies wear as much gear as they make me wear) to do six minutes of warm-up drills and then sit and watch a bunch of lightweights slap at each other for forty minutes.

These people fight with so many goddamn pads on it would be impossible to get hurt and yet they run away from and chase each other with every single move. Only one guy had the courage to rush into his opponent and, y'know, HIT HIM!

I found out after class from a junior instructor that the reason I didn't spar was because Mr. Kim (the head instructor and owner of the school) may not have thought I was ready. I'VE BEEN TRAINING FOR TEN FUCKING YEARS!!! Just because I wear a low colored belt in their school doesn't mean I can't hold my own (and smack around) most of their black belts. I've fought men who've trained for as long as I've been alive wearing only boxing gloves, shin pads, and a mouth piece... and I'm not ready?

The Taekwondo school is so fucking lame. I need a new school. I seriously thought about quitting tonight. I can't believe I'm seriously training in a martial art that does not condone fighting (and I'm not talking in the Aikido sense). Taekwondo is so fucking lame.

I miss my old instructor. He bloodied my nose on numerous occassions. He's knocked the wind out of me. He's watched proudly as I've been beaten so hard that drywall got broken from me being hit into the walls. I've actually been picked up and THROWN at a wall in that school. One time I was fighting with my teacher after class and I slid a round kick right into his jaw. He thought I broke it. It kept making clicky noises. Did he stop? Did he put on head gear? NO! He told me it was a great kick and then he kicked me right in the fucking face. I miss him. I miss training like it mattered. I was supposed to be a Samurai. Totally. I was. I swear.

I would be embarrased if Lenny (my first instructor) saw me wearing all this gear. The men used to drop a medicine ball onto my stomach nightly just to make it harder and to create a better shield for taking shots. That man is responsible for so much of who I am and what I've been able to do with my life. I miss that. I really do. At the time, it was just a tough "guy" thing. You go and you fight and you get beat up, but you don't quit, cuz you can't, you're not allowed to. All these years later I realize he was just making me strong, that life is a million times meaner than he could ever be, and someone who's had their face punched in and didn't quit, will be someone who doesn't call it quits when life gets hard... You get a confidence that many people can't deal with from that kinda training.

I don't know what to do now. I really enjoy the competition team workouts, but its mostly because I can't do them. I mean, they're hard enough that I don't look good while I do them, I gotta struggle, and breathe heavy and you can wring my uniform out after a class and get like a cup of sweat...

I just want to push myself as hard as I possibly can to see how strong I am -- thats not so fucked up is it?

From now on, no more Henry Rollins, no more ancient Samurai Texts, no more manifestos, no more passion, no more guts, no more (good) punk rock...

I'll just sit around and be a lightweight.

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Can I get a hell yeah for Tiger Army? Power of Moonlight is a great album (fuckin' ANNABEL LEE!!!), even though it has shitty cover art and they suck live.