I've had a rough couple of weeks in wrestling, and I'm trying not to worry too much about it, but I can't help it. It's important to me to place at Nationals, because I want to know that I can finish what I start.
I'm feeling a bit disullusioned. About wrestling, about life.
I've tried to live my life by ideals--that things mean something, that you do certain things not because they are practical and easy, but because they are not.
But then, I don't know, you start to wonder if idealism really matters. Maybe life is just a bunch of strangers on a little blue rock out there at the edge of the galaxy, just swirling along for the ride, and it doesn't matter what we do or what we aspire to. Nothing matters.
And if that's the case, well, that's not the end of the world or anything. You're not gonna go swallow a bottle of sleeping pills and drive your car off a cliff. (Which would be kind of redundant anyway, since you just swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills.)
Maybe that's an argument for being more idealistic, not less. If everything is meaningless, it's up to me to decide what is meaningful.
Saturday we had a practice in front of the fans before the Iowa football game. I wrestled with Zaputil and did really well. He had beaten me the last couple of times we wrestled. I was a little worried that my slump was going to continue indefinitely.
My weight is okay. I was 132.5/129.4 on Saturday, but I ate quite a bit over the weekend. I was 135 this morning. I'm probably about the same now.
I weighed in at 129 before practice and 126 afterwards. That's the lowest I've been after a practice this year.
I almost bought Jenny a diamong ring on Friday. It was $399 at Younkers, marked down from $900. But I looked at it through the scope and it had a f---up. What do you call it? A lesion, a collusion, a delusion, a collision. Whatever the f--- you call it, it was flawed. I would rather give Jenny a tiny, flawless diamond than a big diamond with flaws, even if you can't see them with the naked eye. Yes, it's my idealism.
I got beat by Zaputil yesterday in practice. We were 6-6, then he got about 10 points in a row. I got pissed off and threw a temper tantrum. I don't know why I get pissed off more than I used to. Gable talked to me about it today, but you know, I get the impression that he likes it as much as he dislikes it.
Call it anything you want, but I'm not apologizing for it, because you don't know what it's like unless you've been there. I've put everything into coming here and succeeding. The more I've invested in it, the more important it has become to me, and now it's become a bit consuming. Being made a fool of by Zaputil in a matter of minutes made me go a little bonkers.
I don't like to be frustrated, but I like the kick in the ass it gives me. It wipes the smirk off my face and gets me back to business.
I forget sometimes what it's like to be driven. I get too complacent, I relax, I focus on other things, other people, then, boom, I get cracked over the head.
I don't think life always has to be a constant, all-or-nothing, maniacal kamikaze dive. But sometimes it is. You can't be half-passionate about it and expect to win.
I just wanted to score one takedown against the f---er to avenge myself--just one solid takedown to his back. But instead I got nailed to my back. I got my head driven into the mat and got spun behind. I got arm dragged. I got double legged. I got very, tired and very frustrated and all I wanted to do was to avenge myself with one f---ing takedown. Maybe if I were mentally tougher I would've handled it better. I really want to beat the s--- out of Zaputil. Zaputil and Martin. I want to beat the f---ing s--- out of both of them.
I've been on the phone with Jenny for the past hour and a half. She got really upset with me tonight about the possibility of being transferred to Omaha. I told her I wasn't willing to give up wrestling to move to Omaha, and she said I don't love her enough.