Post by TFP on Oct 21, 2008 16:37:10 GMT -4
“Pink. What's it to ya? Bret Hart used it and managed to be a tough guy. That is up until he started to whine uncontrollably.”
Jesse is seated on a chair, bouncing a tennis ball up against the wall. As it rebounds and comes back at him, with a quick flick of the wrist and clutch of the hand, he snatches it in mid-air and continues with the repetitive game of single-player catch. Jesse begins to sigh and suddenly stops throw the ball, holding it in his hand. Getting up to his feet, he walks to the other side of his room and stares at a large, blown-up photograph that is framed on the wall. It is of him, Michael Lee and Davidson when they were all a part of Kiju Derf ZXC last year in FWA. Those were the days.
“Indeed. Those were the days when I was nothing but a guy to be laughed at and to be underestimated by everybody who looked and heard of me. Funny how when you forward into the future one year, one of the guys you least expected to still be wrestling and begin making a name for himself is me. Most people would have expected M00P to be one-hit wonders, a fad to the federation, and everything else. But look at me now. I'm here on my second run, making it my best, and proving the doubters wrong. Michael Lee, as much as I would like him to still be tagging with me in the ring, is off seal-clubbing like I mentioned a few times. He enjoys that too much, so he turned it into his full-time job. Go figure. And Davidson, he's grown to love the needles and lines since he can't handle the pressure of life, so he's in rehab and doing junk like that. At least he's travelling the world, that's more than waht I'm doing at the moment. So what am I doing? Take a look. I'm preparing for the biggest match of my wrestling career by throwing a ball against the wall so that it can come back to me to catch. I repeat this process for about a thousand times before getting bored, then I start to do something. I call that thinking time. Once you get used to throwing the ball the first hundred times, you know when to grab and grasp onto it. Fun, boring - you can call it whatever you want, but as long as it gives me some time to think, then respect it. Not everybody can go to a gym for some peace and quiet. Maybe peace and quiet isn't all that it is believed it be. To me it's a distraction. An annoyance. You pretty much wait for a window to shatter, a door to slam, a ceiling to collapse or the floor to rot. You wait for anything. Anything.”
And so he waits.
“But waiting doesn't help, it just becomes as annoying as the peace and quiet you had to begin with. So instead of waiting, you do something. Throw a ball, punch a wall, flip a desk or lift something heavy that will take some time, possibly allowing something to happen sooner than you expected. But no, nothing. Nothing. Again, nothing. It starts to bother you, then your mind starts to do weird things like create imaginations. You think you hear something or see something, but it's mind-tricks. You're alone and no matter what you think you see or hear, it's not going to change until you feel what you think is real. If the reality touches you, it might hurt. You might even fight back and feel that, too. The walls are reality. Whether you hit it or it hits you, the hurt will be felt through your knuckles if it is a punch. Your head will form a lump or a bruise if you run into it head-first. Anything you do, anything you think of... try it. Just to see if it's real. The reality of life is that if you think it's real, it's fake, unless you know so. It takes very little to think, but a lot to know. I'm no damn philosopher, nor do I have an idea of what I'm talking about, but I think I should put my hair in a pony-tail, wear a beret and grow a full-fledged beard so I can become a professor in my early forties.”
“My mouth is no book you can close.”
Shrug.
Jesse is seated on a chair, bouncing a tennis ball up against the wall. As it rebounds and comes back at him, with a quick flick of the wrist and clutch of the hand, he snatches it in mid-air and continues with the repetitive game of single-player catch. Jesse begins to sigh and suddenly stops throw the ball, holding it in his hand. Getting up to his feet, he walks to the other side of his room and stares at a large, blown-up photograph that is framed on the wall. It is of him, Michael Lee and Davidson when they were all a part of Kiju Derf ZXC last year in FWA. Those were the days.
“Indeed. Those were the days when I was nothing but a guy to be laughed at and to be underestimated by everybody who looked and heard of me. Funny how when you forward into the future one year, one of the guys you least expected to still be wrestling and begin making a name for himself is me. Most people would have expected M00P to be one-hit wonders, a fad to the federation, and everything else. But look at me now. I'm here on my second run, making it my best, and proving the doubters wrong. Michael Lee, as much as I would like him to still be tagging with me in the ring, is off seal-clubbing like I mentioned a few times. He enjoys that too much, so he turned it into his full-time job. Go figure. And Davidson, he's grown to love the needles and lines since he can't handle the pressure of life, so he's in rehab and doing junk like that. At least he's travelling the world, that's more than waht I'm doing at the moment. So what am I doing? Take a look. I'm preparing for the biggest match of my wrestling career by throwing a ball against the wall so that it can come back to me to catch. I repeat this process for about a thousand times before getting bored, then I start to do something. I call that thinking time. Once you get used to throwing the ball the first hundred times, you know when to grab and grasp onto it. Fun, boring - you can call it whatever you want, but as long as it gives me some time to think, then respect it. Not everybody can go to a gym for some peace and quiet. Maybe peace and quiet isn't all that it is believed it be. To me it's a distraction. An annoyance. You pretty much wait for a window to shatter, a door to slam, a ceiling to collapse or the floor to rot. You wait for anything. Anything.”
And so he waits.
“But waiting doesn't help, it just becomes as annoying as the peace and quiet you had to begin with. So instead of waiting, you do something. Throw a ball, punch a wall, flip a desk or lift something heavy that will take some time, possibly allowing something to happen sooner than you expected. But no, nothing. Nothing. Again, nothing. It starts to bother you, then your mind starts to do weird things like create imaginations. You think you hear something or see something, but it's mind-tricks. You're alone and no matter what you think you see or hear, it's not going to change until you feel what you think is real. If the reality touches you, it might hurt. You might even fight back and feel that, too. The walls are reality. Whether you hit it or it hits you, the hurt will be felt through your knuckles if it is a punch. Your head will form a lump or a bruise if you run into it head-first. Anything you do, anything you think of... try it. Just to see if it's real. The reality of life is that if you think it's real, it's fake, unless you know so. It takes very little to think, but a lot to know. I'm no damn philosopher, nor do I have an idea of what I'm talking about, but I think I should put my hair in a pony-tail, wear a beret and grow a full-fledged beard so I can become a professor in my early forties.”
“My mouth is no book you can close.”
Shrug.