And, yes, we DO wish you would have at least taken one of those "Baji" lessons. That tale would have <pun>blown</pun> all the other tales out of the water.
I can't hold that against you; I'd be putting several hours into it if I had the equipment (my newest system is a PS2).
Originally Posted by MrBadGuy
"You remember Archimedes of Syracuse, eh? The king asks Archimedes to determine if a present he's received is actually solid gold. Unsolved problem at the time. It tortures the great Greek mathematician for weeks - insomnia haunts him and he twists and turns in his bed for nights on end. Finally, his equally exhausted wife - she's forced to share a bed with this genius - convinces him to take a bath to relax. While he's entering the tub, Archimedes notices the bath water rise. Displacement, a way to determine volume, and that's a way to determine density - weight over volume. And thus, Archimedes solves the problem. He screams "Eureka" and he is so overwhelmed he runs dripping naked through the streets to the king's palace to report his discovery. "
Forever Fat II Part One, Act Four: The Nearest Thing to Heaven
This was getting ridiculous; each search only unearthed more schools I didn't want, until I was so surrounded by the bullshit I could see no light. There were no decent schools around me, only houses of self righteous assholes content to reign supreme in their masturbatoriums. Distraught, dejected, and disappointed, I decided it was time to break from my quest.
I became reacquainted with other things life had to offer; reading, video games, women, and even writing stories. I had forgotten that life didn't revolve around martial arts, but my self appointed sabbatical was tainted by lingering feelings of guilt. My hedonistic tendencies were interrupted by thoughts such as "I should be training", "I'm losing my cardio", and the real heart breaker, "I'm getting worse."
That last one was the killer. All the hard work, all the pain, all the hours of genetalia in my face, they were all offered up to the gods of combatives. A sacrifice to obtain a fleeting thing known as "skill", and all the time I was spending jerking around I was losing it. Progression was no longer on the forefront of my mind; retaining what I had was my primary goal. The thought of getting worse plagued me day and night. I moped around in this state until finally my mother commented on my situation.
"What the hell are you moping about?"
I gave her a summarized account of my situation.
"Why don't you just go back to the boxing gym?"
I had become so accustomed to burning bridges everywhere I went, I had subconsciously excluded the places I'd been from my searches. But the boxing place had never committed a slight against me, never offended my morals, and never masturbated to animal porn. It was my own short sightedness that was to blame.
I didn't waste a single day. That very night, I rounded up my old gloves, my hand wraps which had been fermenting in my gym bag since the last time I had been boxing, and headed out. The smell reminded me of happier days; days of innocence. When I had first left the cave of self instruction and discovered the joy of being punched in the face. Boxing had been my savior, my own personal Jesus. I remembered that feeling of progress.
It had been wonderful.
I pull up in the parking lot, and the smell reminds me of other things. That my god awful crusty hand wraps need replacing. I make a pit stop at the store in front of the boxing gym. I mean, the smell of reminiscence was great and all, but good lord. It smelled like one had poured rubbing alcohol on some kind of dead animal whose staple diet consisted of its own feces and rubbing alcohol. Why did it smell so much like alcohol? God, it was just so vaporous. The odor was so offending and sharp I had to buy some new wraps.
It was then, there, that I looked next to the store.
And I saw a people in Gi's entering.
And I looked inside.
And it was a brazilian jiu jitsu school.
I saw the grappling I had all but given up on, within shouting distance of the boxing gym. The odds of this were retarded. I guess this is one of those few times "Birds of a feather stick together" can be used in a positive manner; this was retardedly good luck. Almost too good of luck.
I warily enter, and ask to speak to the instructor. It could easily be some sort of trick, or trap. I shouldn't allow myself to get so excited just because I see men rolling around on the floor; there could be other plausible explanations for these things than a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu school. Because if it was a jiu jitsu school, that would be a good thing. And good things don't happen to me.
The instructor is a black belt, under Travis Tooke, a place whose excellence I was previously unable to partake of due to monetary and time restrictions. He offers classes just about every day of the week. He has BJJ, Kickboxing, and MMA classes. He charges a relatively cheap price for an unlimited package. I'm sorry boxing; you were my own personal Jesus, in that I was going to Judas the hell out of you. I felt a little bad about turning my back on boxing, but boxing would have to understand.
Next time, Forever Fat II Part Two Act One: Forces of Victory
ooooohhh GOOOOODDDD YES!!!!!!!
I wish I could melt you and shoot you into my arm.
And here I was thinking that you'd do join the BJJ school and still reacquaint yourself with boxing. I wonder if any of the folks taking the MMA classes use the boxing gym next door to improve their hands.
Now that I think about it, your sectioning style would most likely have to be changed if you turned this into a book. The scriptesque sectioning is fine in the abstract for the web, but the physical layout of a book ruins it (since you've created a narrative, as opposed to a play in book form).
Thanks for the story Johnny Kickass.
Not that I'm aware of, but at the moment I don't think we have any competing amateur or pro fighters. The pro got married and had a kid. One of the amateurs wasn't very successful and I don't think he'll be taking any more fights. Another guy who used to beat me up something fierce in class moved to a gym with a heavier, all-day schedule.
Originally Posted by Robstafarian
Although I don't know why we're still Precision Karate since there are no Karate classes on the schedule, at all. It's jits in a gi, no gi, mma, and kickboxing.
Wow, this is like being part of the story!
Originally Posted by indy007
Seriously though, you've got a placeholder page at precisionmma.com which tells people to go to the full page at precisionkarate.com...all you need to do is put the files from precisionkarate.com onto the precisionmma.com hosting and let precisionkarate.com lapse. A less technical analogy: You are renting two houses and you've got a sign in front of own of them which reads "Come see my real house at this address." You don't need double the real estate. PM me for more explicit instructions.
P.S. The colors are to help distinguish the two domains from each other and from any surrounding text. I always try to make things as readable as possible.