Much like losing your virginity, this first post will be pretty painful, nauseating, nerve-wracking, and flung into a void that promises so much but ultimately disappoints.
There will probably be blood.
Being convinced by a friend who’s blog kicks a tonne (imperial) of arse, she convinced me that maybe, just maybe, I’d have something worthwhile to write. Well I’ll soon prove her wrong!
So what can you expect from me, a man whose life centres around a soul-crushing 9-5 with an intrinsic love of strangling people and kicking them in the head, hard? You can expect the creeping fingers of a sudden realisation that life can feel pretty nihilistic at times, you can expect moments of euphoric clarity, you can expect rants of morosely epic proportions. You can expect the slow whine of an injured fox looking for shelter. You can expect the explosive rage of a 26 year old who knows that there’s so much more to life if you just reach out, grip it, and wheel it over your hip into a glorious slam on the ground.
You can expect me to try and armbar you with words. Or at least see if it’s possible. What you can expect, is the thoughts of a man finding himself a place in a society that will not reward him for his efforts to try and become the best person he can, but will try his best anyway.
You can expect posts less depressing than this. I am not a sad man; I am a man whose inherited anger and constantly baited instincts of society’s effervescent, crumbling core is slowly turning me onto a bitterness that I am desperately trying to avoid.
You can expect post’s on a lifestyle choice that few to choose to follow, but many say they have ‘thought about’.
My name is Robin, and this is the life of a Martial artist.