Aikikai ai-ai

So I tried to join an Aikido class yesterday. Put my heart and soul into it, too: got up on time, wore clean clothes, the whole nine yards. I even showered. Then I set off on the half-hour drive to the dojo a full hour-and-a-half before the class started, because I am a fellow both punctual and cautious. And, you know, with way too much free time. Ha ha, thinks I, my ridiculous work hours might stop me training on weeknights, but weekends can't do shit to me! 

Then someone overturned a lorry on a road I need. 

And not only is this road a road I need, but this road I need is an A-Road, which, for the non-Brits among you spiderbots, makes it the logistical equivalent of the fucking carotid artery. And so about three thousand metric tonnes of traffic haemorrhages off its main route and clogs up every by-road like chip grease in a fat guy's keyboard. Yeah, I know that analogy's shit. Fuck you, I'm in a hurry. 

Two hours later I'm still not a quarter-way there, and I turn back in disgust and fury. I was looking forward to that class. But, well, I've got Krav Maga this afternoon, thinks I. I'll work extra-hard there.

Come the requisite time I set out - once again an hour-and-a-half in advance, and this time with a sneaky alternate alternate route! It's sneaky because it adds more travel time than a detour to Mars and so no other bugger's ever going to think of taking it. 

It's jammed up anyway. 

But no! I do not give up! I navigate by the gods-forsaken sun itself, ladies and gentlemen, I take alleys and back-ways and country routes where the men are farmers and the sheep are girlfriends, I do handbrake turns and ramps and gunfights at a hundred miles an hour and I burst through the sports-hall gates with but a minute to spare! YES! I am BRILLIANT! I am GOD HIMSELF, ladies and gentlemen! I AM GOD HIMSELF!

Class was cancelled. 

On the way home I drove down a bus lane, so I'm probably getting fined for that. 

Kravvy!

I should clarify that I'm not, like, 100% lazy slob. I jog twice a week... well, call it 1.5 times a week. And I trained in karate for fifteen years. Which sounds impressive until I clarify it was an hour per week. And I stopped about five years ago.

... maybe 90% lazy.

God, that paragraph was appalling. I should also clarify that I'm not bothering to edit this blog, because it's already taken me half an hour to write this much and if I start giving autonomy to my inner proofreader I'll be here till the fucking Rapture.

What I'm trying to say is that this isn't a completely cold start. I'm not some fat fit-phobic who decided to clean the slate and go in a whole new direction.

This'd be a lot more inspiring if I was.

In any case, I took up Krav Maga about two months ago. Apparently it's what the Israeli military use and it's good brutal fun. Well, I say brutal, but the karate I trained in was sport karate, and grooming kittens is assault and battery next to that.

Turns out I can still coax a surprising amount of smack from my otherwise noodly arms. Also turns out I'm just as good at sparring as I always was, which is to say I got my face planted into the floor within five seconds of the starting call.

Right I've been here for like two hours now, so sod it this is getting published whether it's complete or not.

Introductions!

I should introduce this place, because I'm sure all the spiderbots are just dying to hear about my life.

I'm crap at everything. Shit job and no skills worthy of note; too apathetic to be arsed with a girlfriend (and, you know, about as good at boyfriending as Oscar Pistorius); and the only hobby I have that doesn't include YouTube includes PornoTube. And I'm 29. This needs changing. From what I hear, two things that help get things done include setting yourself goals and writing about them. This, then, is going to be my blog, where I can set down my goals with some sense of discipline and try my hardest to achieve a HAHAHAHAHA no not really. This is a blog about how I'm giving up.

No really. Fuck it. I'm never going to achieve anything. Ain't happening. Pfffthbhbhtbhtbthbthbhhh. And since I can't achieve anything, there's no point in trying any of that stuff. Job searching, CV tweaking, networking, course-finding - piss on it. 

That means I get to do whatever I want with my time, and what I want is to join every martial arts club in the city because reasons.

Seems like fun.

To do that, I need a job that doesn't require me to be in bed by 9pm.Not a good job, mind you; merely a better one.

So let's see about that.