mindless violence, from krotty to kickboxing
This thread is a similar style to previous diaries, particularly mrbadguys lolarious forever fat series. I will try not to steal too many of his ideas. A basic overview- how i got started, the lolarious events that made me realise how useless my training was, my terrible **** experiences that made me do what i do now, and the eventual ascent from crapness to slightly less crapness and ring fighting. I think its an interesting story, you may beg to differ. **** you!
My family moved here from east london when I was very young. Shortly before we left a large storm blew our shitty house over- in fact we only just managed to make it out of England before they closed down the airport. Thats right- Nature fucked up England because I was leaving. righteous.
When we moved to New Zealand however we struck a problem. The job my dad had arrived here for had basically gone because the power plant he was supposed to work at had, well, been shut down. how the **** they manage to not tell people they are shutting the place down is beyond me, but the end result of this is him scoring a lower level job at the nearby oil refinery, while we lived in government housing.
Now government housing in new zealand is not the projects ghetto **** you see in america- New Zealand actually has a very good welfare system. these houses were small, but fairly nice. I spent my formative years in a neighbourhood where I and my siblings were pretty much the only white people, having baths on the back lawn in a fishbucket, and going to samoan parties. My mum was a psych nurse so I spent a fair amount of time at the loony bin when we went to get her after work to go swimming or whatever. I grew up quite a confused child, to say the least. After a while we moved to a classier suburb while my parents built a house there and we lived in a caravan (I should point out that we lived in that house until I left to go to university, and it still wasn't fucking finished. My parents waited til i left to decorate my room so i didnt ruin the wallpaper. Cunts).
It wasn't until I was roughly 7-8 years old that my dad got me into karate- he himself had practiced it back in england, when it was bareknuckled, foot to ass, cuts and bruises not the poncy **** you see these days. Aside from the wrasslin and fighting with my brother/dad/sister (Irish family, what do you expect) I had no real training until then and was quite excited about getting into it, sadly. Which I will go into later, after I eat and shower and have a wank.
Good stuff, looking forward to more.
Ho ho, I want to see the hilarity that follows this. Finally, I have something to do during the time when I choose not to write.
I skipped the wank, couldnt find my damn tissues.
CHAPTER 1: KROTTY BEGINS
I think part of the reason my parents got me into karate was so I would have somewhere else to hit stuff. See, I was kind of violent as a child. I had a stack of pink slips under my bed that I got as warnings for fighting and bullying. I may have been a skinny kid but I grew up with samoan kids and the poncy boys and girls at my primary school were easy targets.
The idea of karate appealed to me as a way to make me even more destructive so along I went with both my brother sister and my Dad. Now my recollection of these events is pretty fucking hazy but I will do my best to remember- We had a Sensei who was kinda skinny, white, but seemed pretty imposing to my young self. There were several older kids, a group of adults and a fair few kids. the dojo was quite large, although this being rural whangarei classes were held in a barn with all sorts of farm machinery outside for us kids to injure ourselves and get tetanus off. To be honest I was quite lazy about the training, I would often try to halfass my way. Basically because despite what I was being taught I knew I could whomp most of the kids there. (usually because I already had)
My brother took it very seriously though, and actually did develop some skill. My sister stopped fairly quickly, my dad went but it seemed to be mostly a waste of his time since he could have destroyed anyone there. He spent half his time climbing up towers etc at the refinery and was hugely strong, as well as having trained a lot in a much more hardcore environment in England. plus he was irish and as everybody knows, Irish people have a brain half the size of a normal person and the rest of their head is padding.
Anyway. I did get more into it as time went on. Learning how to do katas etc appealed to me, and I have always had a "gotta catch em all" attitude to things so going up ranks was a big appeal to me. To be honest I don't think this helped me much at school where I continued beating on people whenever I could get away with it, along with some of my mates. I'm not going to make any excuses, I was a right **** when I was young. I was also adored by the teachers because I excelled in basically everything, whether it was academic or sport, which fueled my ego.
I think I got up to the rank right before brown belt before the end of my karate training came about. At this karate dojo there was a kid around my age who was quite high up. He was a brown belt and became the catalyst for me not going to karate lessons anymore. I couldn't tell you what age this was, it was around about when I started high school so I would have been perhaps 12 or 13. This kid and I never talked a whole lot, but one thing that I distinctly remember was when he was taking a class (yeah I know- a 12 year old teaching a class, lol) and he smacked my foot to the side with his to get me to widen my stance. I don't take criticism well. Later on at school he would take a ruler off me that my dad had given me- this was a fancy ruler, metal, had different measuring things on it. Probably cost at least 5 bucks which was about 3 weeks pocket money to me and if there is one thing you DO NOT take from some poor ass irish kid it's something that his dad gave to him.
I gave that kid the most hellacious fucking beating behind the horticulture sheds. i hit him about 5 times before he went down (all the while he was trying, and failing, to use his karate style blocks) and proceeded to beat his ass while he lay curled up in a ball on the ground. At some point he started bawling, and I told him that if he ever told anyone about this the next time it would be even worse. I wasn't dumb- years of bashing kids had taught me not to hit them in the face because then teachers ask questions, so after he dried his tears he hobbled back to class. I never went back to karate after that- I was dissapointed that someone higher up than me had folded like a french maid. if he couldn't defend himself with karate from someone smaller and less experienced then what was the point learning it? Unfortunately for me however, things were going to get a bit worse when I changed school...
I think this is a great oppertunity for pictures to be added to a diary.
well Ill probably do that for later diaries becuase I didn't really tote a cam back in those days...
also be aware that the first years are gonna go fast. will go into more detail on the later ones. basically, the reason for this is i smoked a lot of weed and most things before about the age of 16 are quite hazy.
Lies! your mother took an embarresing picture of you and your siblings in krotty gi's!
Originally Posted by Alex
Good stuff though, am intrigued.
Yeh, i'm intrigued. You seemed to be just as much of an ass then as you are now. But it makes for interesting reading. +rep
Nice read bro, keep it coming.