06: War! What is it good for, absolutely nothing!
I need to stop watching Rush Hour. I'm driving my husband crazy.
Another week closer to Wrestlemania. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. It would be the last thing to cross off my list of career goals to prove to myself that I truly am all the way back. To stand on my field's largest stage, soak in 50 or 60 thousand scraming fans...screaming for my head since I'm the bad guy. Professional wrestling is the modern day morality play. We're traveling troubadours, pitting good versus evil where the good guys eventually will win and the bad guys get theirs in the end. Highly simplistic, but it works.
Two pre-med students. More teachers than you can shake a stick at. An architech. Three MBA's. A mathemitican. Two stockbrokers, one out right, one very gifted hobbyist. Vice-president of an executive real estate company. We all gave up what anyone else considers a "respectable profession", to beat our bodies up, out and sideways for a few moments of the ulitmate glory and the biggest high you can imagine. You crave it. It's as bad as any illict drug. Once you get your first hit, you're hooked and there's no unhooking you. There's no recover group for it. There's no twelve-step program for recovering professional wrestlers. I was clean for two years, ten months, and fourteen days, before I couldn't resist and came crawling back.
But hearing what happened over in the Phillipines with the RAW crew, reminds me of the total unpredictibility of what we do. Imagine being caught in a country where a coup e'tat just failed. I was on the phone with ther wives, and boyfriends, of some of the people over on the Asian tour, to know if I'd heard anything. It makes me glad that I get to travel with Booker all the time now, not occasionally like over the last couple of years. For the nature of the beast, where so much is laid out and scriped, there's still so much that we can't bend to our will.
There's so much out of our control.
Another week closer to Wrestlemania. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. It would be the last thing to cross off my list of career goals to prove to myself that I truly am all the way back. To stand on my field's largest stage, soak in 50 or 60 thousand scraming fans...screaming for my head since I'm the bad guy. Professional wrestling is the modern day morality play. We're traveling troubadours, pitting good versus evil where the good guys eventually will win and the bad guys get theirs in the end. Highly simplistic, but it works.
Two pre-med students. More teachers than you can shake a stick at. An architech. Three MBA's. A mathemitican. Two stockbrokers, one out right, one very gifted hobbyist. Vice-president of an executive real estate company. We all gave up what anyone else considers a "respectable profession", to beat our bodies up, out and sideways for a few moments of the ulitmate glory and the biggest high you can imagine. You crave it. It's as bad as any illict drug. Once you get your first hit, you're hooked and there's no unhooking you. There's no recover group for it. There's no twelve-step program for recovering professional wrestlers. I was clean for two years, ten months, and fourteen days, before I couldn't resist and came crawling back.
But hearing what happened over in the Phillipines with the RAW crew, reminds me of the total unpredictibility of what we do. Imagine being caught in a country where a coup e'tat just failed. I was on the phone with ther wives, and boyfriends, of some of the people over on the Asian tour, to know if I'd heard anything. It makes me glad that I get to travel with Booker all the time now, not occasionally like over the last couple of years. For the nature of the beast, where so much is laid out and scriped, there's still so much that we can't bend to our will.
There's so much out of our control.