July 1989: Mauled by Penrith

I'm at the library, procrastinating from studying for my midterm tomorrow.

Jenny and I watched Fourth of July fireworks with Barry and Nan Davis at City Park. It was fun.

I got mauled in practice today by Penrith. He beats me on offense. He beats me on defense. I just don't understand what I'm doing wrong.

All the camp kids hang out to watch summer practices. Going with someone like Penrith is extra humiliating.

It's Sunday night. I had my mid-term on Friday, then wrestled pretty well Friday afternoon.

Saturday I did a morning technique session at camps, mopped the mats, then drove up to Dubuque to see Jenny.

I came back to Iowa City this afternoon and taught another technique session. Camps are almost over. They have gone very well, and it has been great being able to make money while staying focused on wrestling, rather than waiting tables at the restaurant. I don't miss that at all.

We're studying Nietzsche in my class. He's the John McEnroe of philosophers: arrogant, bratty, and always walking that thin line between a rebel and an a--hole.

I want to like him, because I agree with him that passionate individualism ought to triumph over common-herd mentality and dull morality. And yet, for all his talk about being a diety and an ubermensch, he was just a nerdy intellectual who probably never got laid and, if he were alive today, would be too busy playing Dungeons and Dragons to ever write grandiose philosophical treatises.

Just once, I would like to wrestle Nietzsche in practice instead of Penrith.

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