On dreams and reality

I have a little secret: I’ve wanted to be a pro wrestler ever since I was young.

Okay, okay—it’s not so little, and it’s not really so secret. I’ve play-wrestled when I was a kid, like all children tend to do (because nobody, and I mean nobody, listens to the “don’t try this at home” commercials; how else would the business be infused with new blood?) but it was in high school when I figured out that maybe, just maybe, this is something I could pull off. Given the right training, of course.

This was why, after some initial resistance, I sort of welcomed the idea of moving to America during our much-publicized attempt to do so back in ’06. I figured that when I got older and bigger, I could’ve gone to any wrestling school in the States, gotten training there, gotten into the business somehow, then go back home and try to jumpstart the industry again here.

Alas, the move was botched and we had to go home. I had to shelf those dreams indefinitely—until now.

A bunch of guys got together and started a local wrestling promotion, and what’s even better is that it’s not some ragtag backyard promotion. Everything is legitimate as it could be, and everyone’s serious about making this work. And deep down, I’m all like, “Finally.”

It’s time. You’ve got an idea of how long I’ve been waiting to do this, but you have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do it. I’m bracing myself for all the consequences I will suffer. I’m preparing myself for a future of pain, humility, humiliation, and sacrifice all just so I can chase my life’s dream. I’ve never even known anything else, and I’ve never wanted anything else more than this. I’m even willing to jinx it with all this talk because I feel like I can put this out to the world.

One day they’ll look back, and they’ll say we sparked a huge fire. I’d like to think that I started with my writing and the podcast, and I’ll be solidifying it with this. I’m gonna do this, or literally die trying. You mark my words; turns out dreams do actually come true.

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This playlist’s for those who need a little pick-me-up in the morning:

Empirically

I’ve got so much to be happy about.

I’ve got work, I’ve got opportunities, I’ve got things I love to do, I’ve got money, I’ve got friends, I’ve got love, I’ve got companionship, I’ve got sex, I’ve got more than most people could say.

…so why is the void still not filled?

The scars of 23

A couple of weeks month late, but relevant all the same. As I’ve said a few times earlier, 2013 stands to be the one of the worst – if not the worst – years of my life. The year I’ve spent being 23, however, wasn’t as bad. There were lessons I’ve learned, some for the first time and some I had to learn again, and I have them to thank for making 23 better (while still painful) than 22.

(I’m in the middle of writing this and I just realized something very dire – I’m gonna have to apologize beforehand if this sounds way too much like Thought Catalog. That tone definitely wasn’t the intention; this list is for my own personal consumption as much as it is for anyone stumbling across this, needing any advice.)

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