I Hate Christmas

And not for the reasons you'd expect. The corporate undertones and shitty Kennewick slush have never bothered me. I hate Christmas because I have an obligation to come to my parents' house.
And every time I do that, I am reminded why I don't consider it home.

I hate that it feels like my dad doesn't want to be around me unless he's high. I hate that my mother tells me about what everyone on her side of the family is doing and that she is so proud of them, but during the family get togethers none of them seem to know what I am up to. I hate that my sister, father, and myself will always play second fiddle to the family my mom was born into.  I hate that my scumbag uncles talk down to me since I stopped hiding that I am an atheist.  I hate that my childhood memories of Christmas are shouting matches, and my dad's annual announcement that he is "About ready to say fuck it and return all of this shit."

Christmas is my holiday of resentment.  I find myself wishing every year not for any present in particular, but just for my parents to get along for a bit.

So far?  No luck.

Snippets.

Season is over until January.
Applied to work up in Seattle over the Winter break.
Other teammates are remarking on how I'm visibly bigger since the start of the season.
Ordered this:

#swag

Losing Sucks

We played the Valley Kangaroos this weekend, and while it wasn't a blowout, we ended up losing.

I had forgotten how much losing in a team setting sucks.  Something about knowing you gave the best you could and still came up short is really a tough pill to swallow.

At the end of the game, howver, I was taken aside and told that I had played great.  I responded with "I played like shit" and was quickly cut off and told again that I had played well.  It meant a lot, thanks for that.

Not a starter, I just train a lot.

We finally have a confirmed game this weekend, which feels quite amazing.  After heartbreak the last two weekends in the form of cancelled matches, I am very excited to get on the pitch.

Bummer is that I'm not yet starting.  I've had a good couple weeks of practice and felt like I was on top of my game as I've ever been Tuesday, absolutely shutting down the 8-man pick and chasing down a few of our kickoffs.  That said, I know I'm still raw, and we have better people to start.

It's just a frustrating feeling when your best isn't good enough.

It's becoming a familiar feeling of late.

Just Living

Practice 3 days a week, lifting at least 2 days a week.

My life has become immersed in rugby, and I absolutely love it.  The only issue is what to do with my weekends.  Soon games will start and I will have 6 days a week occupied with rugby, but until then, weekends are a weird spot.  I can't really afford to do much, but I feel very much like a prisoner if I just stay in Ellensburg.  I hope this situation sorts itself out soon.

Completely unrelated, it is strange to be stared at.  When the boys on the squad and I go to get lunch after practice, people just blatantly stare.  Perhaps it is because we're a bunch of decent sized dudes in short shorts.  Perhaps it s because CWU rugby is a highly competitive team.  But I'm a low key person.  I don't like being stared at.  The other night I finished up practice and went to get a meal on my own, and someone blatantly says "Holy shit, look at that dude's thighs."  I think I about passed out from blushing so much.  I just want to be under the radar.  I want to be known as an absolute barbarian on the field and I want to not be noticed otherwise.

Way too much to ask for.

First Scrimmage and a Pilgrimage to Mecca

We had our first scrimmage this past weekend against the U of Idaho men's team, and we beat the brakes off of them.  Final score was 60something to 30something in our favor.  I went on in the 65th minute as our replacement blindside flanker, and was greeted with the Vandals working the blindside over and over and over, which meant tackle after tackle after tackle.  Absolutely loved it, pretty bummed that our next game isn't until January.
I'll be 24 for the start of actual 15s season, which means I will be 25% older than our other 18 year old incoming freshman.  Odd shit.
Aside from a couple bruised eye and a sore wrist, I escaped unscathed, and I guarantee the UofI boys are more sore than our squad, even though we had substantially fewer replacements.

In other news, I attended the study abroad fair today and after learning that the GI Bill will cover my costs of studying abroad, I am quite fixated on attending a New Zealand university for a semester.  It would be an incredible opportunity to learn the game of rugby in the place where it is best played, and also an opportunity to experience a very different culture.  University of Otago is currently my top pick, though I will need to talk with my counselor and the affiliate programs about studying abroad before anything is final.

Wish me luck.  I'm in a good spot.

Smoked Out

Fires suck.

Today marks our 17th cancelled practice due to dangerous air quality.  The table mountain fire is ruining my day.

All we can really do is team lifting, and not to be an ass, but the physical aspect of rugby isn't where I need the help.

We play UofI this weekend.  Here's hoping I start.

On LOCKdown

Tonight was our first home practice in over a week, and it was a doozy.  Lengthy, intensive, and a lot of shit I hadn't done before.  But, we also worked scrums, which are pretty much what everyone thinks of when they hear "rugby."

This was this first time I've been lucky enough to scrum down, and I loved it.  I was in the #4 position, lock, which means I had my head wedged between the asses of two burly men.  More picture time about how scrums are formed:

Locks get no glory in scrums but are the real driving force behind how much we manshame the opposing scrum by putting them on their heels.
While I will say this sounds like the story of my life, I will also say that I will end up with fucked ears from playing lock.  Having two hips grind your ears into the size of your head is not super awesome, and though I think I am genetically resistant to cauliflower ear, this will test it.

Even more pressing is the thought that I will be replaced by a dude who is just simply taller than me.  I'm about 4" shorter than your typical lock (which makes for a comical bind) but the real problem is that locks are tall.  Even a lock with the same driving force as me and longer legs will push out scrum forward father and harder.  It's like playing a sacrificial year, I suppose.

Then we did more lineout work, which as a jumper is awesome.  Being hoisted into the air so you can catch a ball 12-13' up is a really cool experience.  Also got to work as a lifter, helping one of our hookers (#2) ascend into the air so he could issue a high-ground "FUCK YOU!  I'M IN THE AIR HAHAHahahahah" to one of his buddies.

CWU rugby, lemme tell ya.

Of School and Forwards and Lineouts

One week ago I finally moved up to Central Washington University.  It was hard to give that final hug goodbye, but I know it was the right choice.  The next day I had my first Uni rugby practice, and had the slap-in-the-face realization that my chances of starting on either the A squad (Div 1A) or B squad (Div 1AA) are not awesome.  I have the requisite athleticism, but there aren't many guys on the squad that have never played before, and I happen to be one.

What I have going for me is a solid work ethic and a burning drive to succeed in this sport, as I have fallen butterflies-in-the-stomach in love with it.  Also, I think being an absolutely blank slate helps.  I don't have to correct bad habits... because I have no habits.

I have mostly been trying to hook up with our forward pack, which seems to unfortunately be knee-deep in quality flankers.  I say unfortunately from a purely selfish context, as I still yearn to be an openside flanker (#7, or #6 in South Africa) and have a nearly perfect build for it.  If I put together some skills I should get occasional play time, but I would guess it will be in the 19 jersey.  19 is a replacement loose-forward, for the unawares.

Also, practicing with the forwards, it was decided that my ape arms will get put to use by making me a lineout jumper.  After being told how much pride CWU takes in their lineouts and that it is an area in which we manshame other teams, they put me straight to work... with a trustfall.  The first of my life, I might add.  And I just let it happen.  For some reason I have an incredible amount of faith in these boys to take care of their own.  Then we got to work with jumping/lifting.  For those who don't know how a lineout works, you get lifted into the air at the last minute to receive the ball from your hooker (#2 jersey, not just some slut), and either keep it or offload it to an eager back.

Guy on the far right blue #2 jersey is a hooker, I'll be the dude in the air.

Basically, this is a dream come true.  At only 5'10", I had given up on being a lineout jumper before I even started practice.  It is typically a lock and 8-man position, as both are typically above 6'2", so thank the lawd I've got the limbs of a spider monkey.

Unfortunately we've only had indoor practices for a week.  Air quality is shit due to a giant fire right outside of town, so all we can really practice is out lineouts.

But dammit, we're gonna have one that is still worth taking pride in.

First Practice, or "Of Blisters and Cleatings"

So in keeping with the fact that I am a giant (though largely closeted) nerd, I was in Seattle for the Penny Arcade eXpo.  PAX has been a staple among my friends since it's creation, and I went the first 3 years before enlistment had plans for me that didn't quite line up with an annual fall trip to Seattle.  It was fun, I guess.  FortNite looks like an amazing game and I can't wait to see what Unreal Engine 4 can do, but to be honest after my first 90 minute line with a bunch of nonbathing devolved troglodytes, I was pretty much over it.  As a pretty blatant misanthrope I just truly didn't have the mental fortitude to do that dance more than about once.  So as much fun as getting to see old friends and nerd it up for a few days was, getting a practice in with Seattle's own Old Puget Sound Beach Rugby Football Club (OPSB RFC) was the highlight of my trip.
There are only so many drills you can do on your own and finally getting to run lines, test my hands, hit/clear rucks, and practice tackles was pretty much awesome.  My double-leg and single-leg takedowns (which are the only real wrestling I ever developed, aside from my front-headlock) will translate perfectly into rugby tackles, which is a great comfort since that is a lot of what 7s do.  The coaches were super kind and everyone was more than happy to help me if I just asked, making a pretty great learning environment for a new player.
Also, it was good to test my cleats on turf.  With mild compression socks I developed one of the nastiest blisters I've ever had, being so irate that the fluid in it was sanguineous.

This is the morning after first draining.

Not sure if because new cleats, because not in adequate socks for 2 hours of practice, or if the Wero Pro 8s just don't fit my wide-ass feet.  I'm trying to NOT look at this as an excuse to buy a new pair of cleats, as I know that is just me wanting to embrace my shoe/kit fetish, but only time will tell if I can hold off.
Also note the cleat mark on my ankle.  It sucks, and I'm not exactly sure what position I was in to make it happen.  Guessing I just took the ball into contact and the first man over me to clear the ruck stepped on it?  Odd stuff.
Either way, my love for this sport is confirmed.

Housing Assignments and Sprints

After paying my deposits I have registered for classes and been granted a housing assignment in the CWU dorms.  I lucked out and got into the brand new building, which are a set of suites.  I wasn't trying to share a room with someone (I've done that dance, both by my will and by Uncle Sam's) so this is a pretty substantial weight off of my shoulders.

Unfortunately, every Paramedic prereq was full, so I'm in for at least a two year ride at Central... which is fine, but I was hoping it would be a choice rather than a mandate.  Taking gen ed classes, Health, Comp Sci, Geography.  Doing the whole student thing.

As far as furthering myself as a rugger, it's been sprints in cleats, shuttle runs, and runs that start from being on my back.  Desert Hills has also rolled out their blocking sled for football.  Something tells me that they don't appreciate me pushing it a complete 180° from how I find it every evening, but that's life, and I gotta practice my scrum push somehow.  Squats probably work well, but it feels a bit more savage to slam into a device created to resist you and defy it's design.

Also my shoe fetish is rearing it's head again, and I want a second pair of boots regardless of the fact that I've never set foot on the school's pitch.  Oh and that whole deal that boots are a pretty position-dependent item and I'm not guaranteed the position I want, regardless of how superb a 7 I will be.  I was reading an article about open-side flankers that used the line, "a position of flair and workmanship." 

Sounds like me.

This Blog Is Now About Rugby.

3 weeks ago I received some life-changing news.  I have been admitted to Central Washington University.

It isn't Yale or CSU Fullerton or Johns Hopkins or any of my other dream colleges, but it is a real university with the program I've come to see as my calling in life: EMT-Paramedic.  And for a kid with parents just poor enough to fuck him out of financial aid but not able to actually assist with college fees, this is a pretty big deal.

Yet what I am most excited for is the fact that Central has a rugby team.  And it is a good, competitive rugby team.  For someone who was undersized for athletic endeavors in high school, being able to take up a team sport where people are unlikely to have an experience edge is incredibly appealing.  So appealing that I have been busting my ass nightly with working kicks and sprints to get where I am not a detriment to my future squad.

If I end up doing 4 years at Central, I want to be the captain of the team before I leave the pitch for my final college game.

No point in playing if you aren't competing at the highest level you can.

Or really doing anything, in my opinion.

Boring specifics that only ruggers will care about?
I want to play openside flanker.  Often trusted to be the most physical and fit person on the team.  At 5'10 I'll be undersized and plan to put on an extra sheet of quality muscle before the season starts to help compensate.
I ordered a pair of Canterbury Wero Pro boots, and love them.  It is strange to run in screw-in cleats though, they seem much heavier than any other footwear I've owned.

4 weeks until first practice.

20 until first game.

Tomorrow I go up to Ellensburg for advising, housing, and VA help.

Wish me luck.

This blog is effectively dead.

Because while I am still a giant nerd, I have nowhere to train, and as such, I'm not really a grappler... at least in the realm of competition.

What's new with me?  I'm trying to become a college boy.  I intend to be a firemedic and will try out for the CWU rugby team.

In the mean time I'm trying to put on the ~20lbs of muscle that will be needed to play the position I'm interested in.

Hope everyone (all 2 readers) are well.

30DLP - Letter 4, your sibling

Hey, sis.  How have you been?  It has been a couple weeks since you were around.

Not that I blame you.  When I have somewhere to go, I leave, too.

It's probably strange to some people, how close our family isn't.  And if you're from a family that is close, I can imagine it would be.

But we've been taught that avoidance and secrets are the easiest way to stay safe, haven't we?

For siblings, we turned out quite different.  I won't lie, I have always felt a slight bit of unearned resent toward you.  It felt, growing up, like I was the test case.  That disciplinary policies were honed on me, so you ended up getting the best of everything.  Better clothes, nice car.  I did my best to be happy for you, but there is a part of me that still feels like I got dicked.

It's also strange what a difference a few years in age can make.  There are probably memories I consider "formative" that you don't recall at all.  Hell, you were a crying infant for one of the worst.  I'm a bit sure you don't recall that one.

I guess this is a plea, more than anything else.  Don't be upset at me for avoiding volatile family functions, because there is still a lot of bitterness over my childhood.

Things were worse before you came along.

30DLP Letter 3 - Your Parents

I haven't been looking forward to this letter.  I've been putting it off, gathering my thoughts, reducing them down, stirring, reducing again... and I've mostly come to one root concept to describe you two.

It isn't that you're bad people.  You just don't know how to be good people.

Mom, you will always be kept at a distance.  I know you notice and I know you wonder why, but it is not hard to figure out.  Any time I've ever let you get close, you've hurt me.  I think it is some demented ploy to hold power or dominion over me, but whatever.

Dad, you kind of fall into the same camp.  You wanted to be an overlord when I didn't need that, and now that I'm back home, floundering, and just want me father to be there, you're too busy getting high.

You're both children, and I consider the fact that I'm shucked off the habits you imparted upon me to be one of my finer accomplishments.

30DLP Letter 2 - Your crush

This is an interesting one.

You came into my life at a time where I needed someone to take interest.  I had been home for 2 weeks, horrified that I no longer had a friend circle.
We had hung out in groups for almost the last year, since Claire's graduation.  I noticed you, we were friendly, and I made a point for us to all be in groups every time I came home.  You asked me for fitness advice, asked about jiujitsu.  I thought you were just being friendly.  I figured you were (are) so far out of my league that I felt just lucky to be a friend.  And when it turned out that you were interested in me as more than a friend, it flipped a switch.
And I we've spent the majority of our days together since then.
The Monday after we got together you were introducing me to your mom, your stepdad, your mom's clients... and it was like I was in some sort of twilight zone.  You know me well enough to now see that I'm a big ball of social awkwardness and anxiety, but I do all I could to conduct myself in a manner that wouldn't have me banned from you.
And it seems to have worked.  We're still together.  And in the last week you have shifted from treating me as if you're happy with me to treating me like you're genuinely excited to be with me.
And it feels amazing.  You treat me so much better than I've ever felt I deserved.  Your family treats me better than mine does.

I'm excited for you, and I am excited for us.

30DLP: 1st Letter - Best Friend

A week later, and more than a few a dollars short, I'm finally kicking this off.

Hey man, how've you been?  It's been almost a decade now that we've known each other.  So strange to think about.  We've both grown up, and at times apart, but the fact remains that you're still the closest thing I've had to a brother, and I do what I can to treat you like family.  There have been times where you give me a home, since I don't have one.  You and your mom have fed me when I was hungry.  I didn't need to tell you it was because I wasn't welcome at my birth home.  You knew.
And you always have.  You've read me so well throughout the years.  It's freeing, in a way.  I've never had to lie to you.  Some of why is because well, I knew that you'd be there regardless of what is happening.  Some of why is the fact that you'd know the truth whether or not it is what I'm saying.

I don't know if I ever told you how much it meant to me when you wrote me in boot camp.  Outside of Natalie and my mom, you were the first person to do so.
I bawled like a baby.  I felt like I was letting my friend down by not being there to share your good times in college.  But you told me you were proud of me, and that Christmas, you treated me like it.

Then when I got to Oak Harbor, you (as well as Sher and Zab) made it a vacation.  Especially when I was on the night shift, spending all my off days in your apartment.

I'm sorry we haven't stayed closer.  Part of growing of, I suppose.  You getting married, me moving back home and doing what I can to become an adult with a real life.  But you've always made your home open to me, and I cannot wait to return that favor.  You've supported me in every dream.  And I cannot wait to prove you right when you believe in me.

I'm proud of you.
I hope you still are of me.

30 Day Letter Project

So here's a bit of a stolen idea from my old friend Rikki King, but I think it will be good for me to write some of these letters.

Aiming to start tomorrow.

THE LETTERS

Your best friend

Your crush

Your parents

Your sibling (or closest relative)

Your dreams

A stranger

Your ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush

Your favorite internet friend

Someone you wish you could meet

Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to

A deceased person you wish you could talk to

The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain

Someone you wish could forgive you you could forgive

Someone you’ve drifted away from

The person you miss the most

Someone who’s not in your state/country

Someone from your childhood

The person you wish you could be

Someone who pesters your mind – good or bad

The one who broke your heart the hardest

Someone you judged by their first impression

Someone you want to give a second chance

The last person you kissed

The person who gave you your favorite memory

The person you know who is going through the worst of times

The last person you made a pinky promise to

The friendliest person you knew for only one day

Someone who changed your life

The person who you want to tell everything to, but are too afraid to

Your reflection in the mirror

Back on the mats.

Checked out two gyms this week.
The first is ran by my old (pre-enlistment) striking coach.
A nice group of guys, and the gym was very MMA focused.  But there is no gi class, and I feel like the gi is where my future in this sport lies.
Second gym is very new, but they instructors are kind, better than I am, and are looking to build a competition team.  Class 6 days a week is nothing to shake a stick at, either.

A lot of my upcoming life choices are based on employment opportunity, but should I stay in Kennewick for any real length of time, I'll start training at Choice Martial Arts.

Competition Results.

Made weight, won 3 of my 4 gi matches (all by choke), took 3rd in the bracket.

No gi was rough, lost my first match, went home.

all in all, a good weekend.

Pre-comp Week

It is getting to that week.  The week before competition is always the roughest for me.  If I can just bust my ass and work harder than the guy next to me, I will typically do well in any competiton.  De-load week isn't like that.  This week I have to spend a few days sitting on my ass, monitoring my weight, and inevitably fretting over competition day in my head.

I made a flow chart of my bottom-side half-guard game earlier this evening.  Filled the page.  And still wasn't complete.  Aaaand my bottom-half game kinda blows.

I'm going to spend the next couple days working bottom side-mount escapes and guard sweeps.  Then I will be good.

I've been at this too godamned long and worked too hard to have no gold on my wall.  This is MY competition, dammit.

Fuck bronze.

An Unpleasant Lesson

I haven't trained jujitsu in a month. I dream about it, stay up formulating, see opening for passes and chokes with cuddling... yet as I am in a semi-remote area, I haven't trained.

And the fact is that it takes a toll on you. Back in Oak Harbor today to got the mats, and I just sucked.  I wasn't seeing what was there, I had no urgency, and I wasn't beating the people I was supposed to beat. And now I'm just wondering why. Was is the 6 hour drive?  Was I not in the zone?  Or have I regressed?

I am dating someone. She's just awesome, and I don't want to bring her up to Seattle weekend after next to watch me lose.

Time to get my head in the same place as my heart.

Look Inside and Ask Yourself, "Why?"

One of the more personal things I'll ever post on here.  If you're interested in an emotionally-charged rant that I have no other way of venting, jump the break.

On That Nerd Virgin Time

So I'm not exactly closeted about my nerdiness, but it has really been out of control since I moved home.  I re-opened my WoW account (fret not, I still shower) and built myself a new pc.  Coupled with the ambX system, which is awesome, I have this waiting for me at the end of the day:

mmm, baby baby

Besides that, I've spent my free time lifting and hanging out with an especially awesome lady.

Finally benching... acceptable numbers again (BWx6) and squatting numbers I didn't expect to see anytime soon.  I am also looking into a Dollamur home mat so I can drill/teach, but the cost is pretty rough.

Vee chall zee

Changes

I have been moved back home for 3 weeks now, and what a strange ride it has been. It seems like the things you count out have a tendency to finally happen when it is least opportune.

That said, I am as happy as I have been in a long while.

Also, I registered for the March 17th Revolution grappling tournament. 181lb white gi division, 175.5 intermediate no-gi division.

Time to start running.

Leave 'Em Gasping For Air

Gracie Barra in-house to celebrate the re-opening of their Bellevue chapter was this last weekend.  To kick it off, they had an awesome in-house tournament.  System was 5 minute matches, 1 point to each competitor in case of a draw, 3 to the winner in case of a submission.  I ended up in a 7 man bracket, leaving me with a possible 18 points to earn.

I ended up with 16.

I steamrolled through the white belt division, after a slow-start which ended in a draw I hit the collar choke, D'Arce choke x2, collar choke, straight ankle lock.  I tore through my division with ability and confidence, and am proud as hell of my performance.  There is a special joy that comes from making people tap out or pass out, and I got to experience it 5 times this weekend.  This resulted in me winning my bracket, making friends, and being congratulated by the owner of the academy.

Long story short:  I always have a path to the back, and if I am on your back,it may be in your best interest to save us both the trouble and start tapping now.  I actually felt bad for how hard I strangled a few guys this weekend, because A) They were all legitimately awesome people and B) it was malice that entered the picture, at times.  If you had put me in a bad spot, I had been upset about it, and I wanted you to feel fear over the idea that I wouldn't quit choking just because you tapped.

...the malice part will need some working at.

Rumors of my training lapse (may) have been greatly exaggerated

So I have now been moved home for six days.

Tonight I went out for margaritas with friends, and a girl who I have known since elementary school noticed me talking about Muay Thai and invited me to join her at the local boxing gym, which now does muay thai and grappling.  And, get this, THEY NEED COMPETENT GRAPPLERS!  In no way do I consider myself good, but I definitely think I am competent enough to teach basics in a way that laymen and women can grasp it.

Checking it out this week, expect updates!

Striking, Promotion, Shark Tank

...in that order.

Worked striking tonight for the first time in a good while.  My knee has been healing pretty quickly, and I felt good enough to drill on it.  We worked the slip-step-turn-murder combo on both sides, which for a lefty is especially nasty, seeing as how our natural rear-kicks land on the liver.  I worked with Ollie who often has more heart than brains, but he was in the zone to train tonight, and as such we both learned.  Sparring afterwards was more of the same.  I am reacting better to getting hit, and in following the rule of "you get what you give" as far as sparring force, through some of the hardest punches I ever have in training.  Being 5'10 180, I'm shorter than most people my weight; so here is a free lesson:  Don't let me get in close.  In the pocket I hit as hard as anyone I know, and when you throw hard then move straight back, you're likely going to get swarmed.  Also, don't tell me no body shots then throw to my gut as soon as you're getting outclassed.  Fuckin' tacky.  But people act weird when they're getting hit.  As soon as the round timer beeps, no ill will.  That's a hard and fast rule.

Then, after gi'ing up, Benn lined us up against the wall.
He hasn't done this since Kevin left, so I knew something was up.
And then he called me out, and presented me with four beautiful tape strips that mean so much more than they should.

And then went on a short speech about how I'd earned it.  After conversing with Brendan about how I'd "no question" be a blue belt if belts were earned through no-gi, he put me in the center of the mat.  One minute rounds with everyone in class, no breaks.  After about the third roll of guys knowing they could go all-out then rest, I was pretty beat.  But I didn't get tapped, and it was definitely a memory.  I recall going for a beat-tired kneebar on Ollie (no guilt, he fancies himself a leglocker) and tapping some poor soul to an ezekiel after frustration of him (wearing just shorts) gripping my gi one too many times, rolling with Brendan and Benn.  I'm not sure why I was so out of it today, but I mentioned it before we ever started drilling for jiujitsu.

But the high point of my night was Ollie telling me after class how much I'd helped him, and helped teach.  His normal goofy smile turned oddly serious, and his playful eyes suddenly filled with thanks.
That is probably the lasting memory from tonight.  A justification that the time I have spent teaching isn't wasted, and isn't ignored.

It was a good feeling.  And I hope to re-create it.

Like I never left.

So due to the Washington Snowpocalpyse, we had no class all last week.  What did I do with my time?  Well, I did what any gaul-dern red-blooded recently-separated 23 year old veteran would do:
I drank, and I caught up on quality time with people who are on course to be lifelong friends.
And after this week-long bender, it was excellent to step back on the mats.  We had some visitors from a local MMA gym, which was cool, but really made me see the difference between our instruction and other's.  One of the guys who was visiting (who claimed to be training for the last 7 years) ran over the double-under pass like this:
"So you swim both hands under his legs, Gable your hands, suck his hips up to you, shuck hard and land in side control."
Then Benn taught it like this:
"So to start this pass, you need to get both your hands inside his legs, swim them over his thighs, and lock your hands over the top.  You can hang out here for a second, then when he stops spazzing, your bring your knee to his buttcrack and use it as a ramp to slide his hips up to your chest.  Then you lean forward, crunching him up.  Make him uncomfortable, but don't put his knees on the mat, because he can roll through.  Now depending on how he reacts, you pick a side, and use the same-side arm to block his bicep.  Once you've opened up that arm, you start opening and turning your hip, inserting the same-side knee into the armpit of the arm you are blocking.  Now you slide your bottom knee up to block his hip, release his bicep, and wrap the head.  Once you are here, you can bring your opposite arm out from under his leg and around his body, into the seatbelt control."

Incredible difference.  Especially for an audio learner like myself.

Also, hit my first kneebar tonight.  I kind of just decided that I want to start doing leglocks, and I feel I am at a level where I won't spazz on people and cause injuries.

Bending a knee the wrong way?  Yeah, it will get a tap about as fast as you'd imagine.

In Pursuit of Knowledge to Share

I got home tonight around 11:30. Class ended about an hour earlier but I stayed behind to teach a couple of new guys (I would say kids but I think they are all of 2 years younger than me) some basic stuff.  Front headlock options, side control attacks, how to shoot where you won't get guillotined, etc. None of these are things I could cover in depth with just an hour but it was neat to see them get worked in on the next roll between these guys.
But I did come to an interesting conclusion tonight. I wish I had more knowledge to share. Training for myself is nice. It makes me better, it makes me more competitive in the sport I love. But really, my true passion is teaching what I can to a new crop of kids who will be much better than me. It is hard not to feel a sense of pride and accomplishment when you teach someone a kimura, let them drill it twice, and very next roll they make execute it perfectly and get the tap.
So that is the new goal. Learn more to teach more. Maybe I'll become a better grappler along the way.

Mixed Emotions and the Odd Nature of Hygiene

Boring life update time: I worked my last shift as an enlisted man today.  On one hand it was an absolutely horrid, ulcer-inducing stressful day.  The kind of day that reminds me why I'm not reenlisting.
On the other I had the same pleasant interactions with a select few people that made days like this tolerable.  At the end of my shift I took a stroll down to the Ward and let the night shift nurses know how much more bearable they had made my last 3 years. I think they appreciated it when they realized I was being serious for once, rather than my typical misanthropic and sarcastic self.
Such a strange mix of emotions. The absolute joy of knowing I will never have to work in a pharmacy again to the borderline dread of no longer having a steady paycheck. It makes for a less than palatable blend, though 2 Longboard Lagers have slowed my thoughts and given my brain time to cool.

Also, an observation on hygiene.  My roommate and I are both martial artists, and as such we spend a lot of our free time on mats. Mats are an area known to house staff just by virtue of so much bare skin, sweat, and open wounds on them. The result is that you have to keep your body clean if you are a grappler.  So one would assume this cleanliness would carry over into other areas of life, no?  No, indeed. We always seem to be in this strange state of dirty dishes chicken that honestly goes way too far at some points, especially since we have a dishwasher.  Humans are just strange people, I suppose.

Knee Update

So I managed to mangle my knee somehow in the beginning of August.  I saw the doc for it late that month as it wasn't getting any better, and did the recommended physical therapy for it (which didn't help).  I went back to my doc and let her know in the beginning of December, and she finally ordered an MRI for me.
MRI was Wednesday, got the report yesterday.
Good news is that all my tendons and muscles and meniscuses and other soft parts are intact.
Bad news is that when I injured it I apparently put so much pressure on the joint that my femur is still bruised inside of the joint.  A bone bruise, especially a large one, takes a very long time to heal.
So I just get to deal with being gimpy.  Only time will heal this, according to the doc.

New Gi, and an Injury

So little (okay, that may be a lie) known fact is that I am a but of a gear whore. If it is new or exciting, I NEED it.  However I'm also decently sensible and realize I can't afford everything I want, no matter how burning the craving for it is.
But every once in a while, I will catch a break.
A piece of kit I have lusted after since before I had ever donned a gi was the Gameness Elite. It's flashy style, red contrast stitching, and custom-print rashguard lining left my heart pining for more. But it comes with a suggest MSRP of $260, which is more than half of what I pay for rent every month, and that is a tough pill to swallow. So I drooled from afar.
And then it went on sale.
Even at 40% off it was an expensive item, but stomachable as a Christmas and birthday present to myself.
Regardless of the debacle I had with Century and holiday shipping, I was still pacing the floor waiting for the UPS truck today, and I think my Aphex Twin-esque grin when answering the door made the delivery guy a bit uncomfortable.
I promptly unboxed that bitch and threw it on.
initial thoughts are that I hope what I hear is wrong, and it is not shrinkproof. It will fit perfect if the sleeves come in about an inch. The ripstop pants are beautiful, soundly stitched, and very comfortable. No waxy yet stiff feel of BDU bottoms here.  The jacket... well, I can see why people whine about the shape, because it fits me great and I'm shaped weird. It is very much cut for someone with a much larger chest circumference than waist size. Excellent for me, haha.  The lining makes the top feel like a robe, seriously.
Rolling in this thing is also a pleasure. So far I have loved my True Comp Goldweave (review to follow) and this felt even better.  The collar is decently thick and bought me time to work out of a pretty nasty bow-and-arrow choke, which I appreciated.
However, I couldn't roll hard. And why not?

Well, I broke something last night. Doing lat raises and feeling beast, when something just pinged in my neck/shoulder area. Didn't think much of it, went home, ate, changed, then came to MMA (which I ended up teaching) and by the end of class, I was hurting. My left arm was spasming and I could find no spot to relieve the pressure.  Hot shower, heating pad, ice pack... I was up all night trying to find some relief. I finally sucked it up and went to the base ER for the first time ever. They sent me home, I caught sleep before my MRI for my knee (god, am I really only about to turn 23 with all these problems?) and came back for jujitsu. While Kickboxing was finishing up I worked my wall warmup, and then snagged a couple light rolls and drills with Rich. It was obvious to me I had a problem when I went to get some water after showing him how to finish the bow-and-aarow and could just barely raise my bottle with my left hand.

I hope this gets better soon. Being a converted southpaw, this is my power side in striking, and with no grip strength I was pretty embarrassed during rolling* and pass/sweep/submit drills. I most just used it as omoplata drill time because you finish those with no grip strength.
Here is hoping for a speedy recovery.

*jiujitsu/submission wrestling version of sparring. Typically start on the knees and show you are ready by slapping hands and bumping knucks, and work at about 60% intensity

Resolutions

So I really don't have many resolutions/goals for the new year, but they all see to be grappling/mma related so I figure I will lay them out and break them down a bit.
Keep training - I want to keep training as hard as I have been for the last few months. I've come a long way in a short amount of time. Big challenge will be finding a place to train in Kennewick. Maybe this is a time to implement Judo! Haha.
Earn my blue belt - there are only five belts in Brazilian JiuJitsu. White, blue, purple, brown, and black. You have to train in the gi to earn your blue belt, so that is my goal.
Take gold at a decent-sized grappling tournament - Be in revolution, western states grappling championship, sub league, or Arlington submission challenge; I finally want to take home a gold medal.
Have a fight - I haven't fought since 2008, and if I ever want to do this for money, I'm not getting any younger. Time to step back into the ring and find out if my skills have come as far as I think they have.