Return from St. Louis

My cousin Jeff and I spent this past weekend in St. Louis, celebrating our friend Greg's birthday. It was great to get away for a few days, and it's always a hard crash coming back to reality for me. That reality was made apparent immediately when I went to pick up my car from my mom's house. I couldn't keep it started, and when I finally did get it started, I floored it all the way home..."floored it" to 25 mph.

I just had work done on it last week, hoping it would solve this problem, and perhaps it did. I had it looked at again on Monday, and it has been driving fine other than Sunday night's issues. Anyway, the trip...

I knew Jeff was excited because our departure time kept moving up. We had originally planned to leave Friday morning, but when we both realized our schedules were free Thursday, we planned to leave Thursday afternoon. We almost had to postpone to Friday morning again, when Greg and his family (our hosts, as usual) asked that we not come down Thursday, as they needed the extra day to prepare, among other things.

They've always treated me so well that I had no problem with this concession, but Jeff and I both desperately wanted to leave Thursday. So he contacted his mom that also lives in the St. Louis area and made arrangements to stay with her Thursday night.

Thursday afternoon's departure time moved up to noon. Then 11 a.m. Then Jeff told me we'd meet at my mom's at 9:45 a.m. Great!

He rang my doorbell at 8:45 a.m. and said "let's get the fuck outta here!"

We dropped off my car, picked up our Kia Soul rental, dropped off his car, and hit the road. The Iowa half of our drive was a wet one, as rain fell most of the morning, but the further south we got, the rain gave way, leaving us with gloomy clouds and wind.

We got into Wright City, met up with Jeff's sister Mary, relaxed, and then eventually went to dinner with Jeff's mom at the Ameristar Casino buffet. Jeff's mom paid, but we ate like we stole it, shoveling pizza, Chinese, pasta, catfish, dinner rolls, and ice cream down our gullets.

We watched part of the Cardinals game, but I crashed out pretty early...9 or 10 p.m. as I was still fighting a nasty sore throat.

On Friday, we had an afternoon to kill before Greg and his family got home from work. Jeff told me he'd never been to a Dave & Buster's, so we made that our lunch stop. He had a Philly cheese steak, I had chicken strips. We wasted some money in the arcade and had some fun, then decided to head into downtown St. Louis.

We checked out the Arch and walked nearly all the way around Busch Stadium, then poked around random streets here and there with no goal or destination in mind. We also passed by a Tums factory, which smelled delicious, lol.

It was after 4 p.m. and we were tired of walking, so we crossed over into Illinois and went to our other friend Patrick's video game store to see him and Daniel, until shortly after 6 p.m. when Greg finally got home from work.

Myself, Jeff, Greg, Stephanie, and Pat hit up Steak'n'Shake for dinner, gave our waitress hell, and then headed over to the SIUE campus to play pool and air hockey on the cheap.

Saturday morning, we ate breakfast at a local restaurant, ran into another friend of ours Nathan, and then headed for Six Flags. Saturday was Greg's 23rd birthday and he wanted to celebrate it at Fright Fest, riding roller coasters, and I'm not one to turn down rolly coastas!

But man, do I have a tiny bladder. It's my own fault for drinking an orange juice, a full glass of water, a Mountain Dew, and an Amp...but as we sat in line to get into the parking lot, I was nearly dying!

We hit up the Mr. Freeze coaster first (after a security line and a pair of bathroom breaks...yes, a pair), because it had been closed down on my July visit. It was awesome! YouTube it, because I can't do it justice...but it shoots you out backwards at 70-something mph, upside-down, corkscrews, and then takes you straight up into the air probably a couple hundred feet, until it reaches a near-stop. You're looking straight down! The only thing keeping you from, ya know, dying is a lap bar!

Then it takes off again at 70+ mph, dropping you straight down and back through the loops and corkscrews, forward this time, until you return to base. Wow!

The first couple of rides we hit had short-ish lines, but as we got deeper into the day, the lines were crazy long. 30 minute waits. Last couple we did were hour-long waits. I hate standing in lines! I have bad feet, and all the walking is hard enough as it is, but standing around really takes it out of me. I would have been happy to leave much earlier than we did, but stuck it out, because the rides themselves were awesome!

Jeff, Steph, and myself rode the Superman ride, which takes you up 200+ feet, where you sit for awhile in anticipation. Then your seats drop in a freefall back to Earth. Pretty spectacular rush!

We hit up a couple of the wooden coasters, as well as The Batman, and Mr. Freeze one last time. By the time we rode both of those, it was pitch black outside, and that really intensified the thrills!

We ate Jack in the Box after returning to Greg's...then we had Jack in the Box for breakfast, lol. Sunday was spent lounging around Greg's man cave, because we were all beat the hell up from the day before. We watched the Rams/Packers game and some other football, but then it was time to go. Jeff and I left around 4 p.m., taking our time on the way back home.

As I said at the beginning, coming back to reality is dreadful for me. I know most people hate returning from vacation, but it takes a harder toll on me, I feel. After I came home in July, I dipped into a pretty deep depression and spent several weeks drinking, smoking, and hating a lot of things about me and my life.

This time, the fall wasn't as hard or debilitating, but I still feel some of the same things. I'm not happy at my job, I'm not happy being single, I'm not happy being away from my friends. I've been giving some thought to moving to St. Louis next summer, but part of me doesn't think that's the right move either.

It'd be great to see my friends more often, don't get me wrong. But being there would become my new normal, and at some point, I would still be facing the same ruts I face here, now. Where do I work? Do I stay in television? What if I end up working weekends still? That pretty much defeats any chance I have of hanging out with my friends, who are Monday through Friday-types.

I have a lot to think about, but most of the time, I put it off for the Internet, TV shows...or worse, booze. I need to stop avoiding my future and start assembling it, to look however I imagine it. But finding a direction is hard, when you don't quite have a destination in mind yet.

I want the bliss that vacation brings. One of my friends commented on a picture from this weekend, saying I looked really happy. I want that captured moment to last forever. I know that's not realistic, because bad things happen and struggles happen and real life happens. But I want to find a way to take that happiness and bliss and apply it to the rest of life. So the bad things, the struggles, and the real life can become a little more bearable. :)

..piss it all away..

..piss it all away..

I honestly do not know where to start. Everything was great, or so I thought. If it truly was great, it was only great up until a certain point. And then it stopped being great and it became terrible, miserable, and frustrating.

Heather has a lot of personal problems, dating back to before we fell in love; before we even became friends. I knew about some of them going into the relationship; I learned about some of them after the fact. But even just knowing about them does not truly put them in perspective until you see them in action. But those issues are hers, and they are hers to share or keep private, and this is my space to talk about myself and what I've done and what I'm doing.

Keeping that in mind, the catalyst of our current situation seems to stem from...well, from about a year ago. Last September, Heather was off birth control for a short period of time. We had sex. She missed her period. And then she took a home pregnancy test. I wanna say it was an early Saturday morning, like 7 or 8 a.m. I was still in bed when she came in and dropped the stick on the bed next to me.

It said "+." Actually, I think it was a digital read-out that said "Pregnant." But you get the picture.

Still half-asleep, I asked her, "Is that for real?"

We were excited. Probably too excited. We spent most of the morning calling several family members to tell them the news. No, it wasn't planned, but we knew what could result from our unprotected sex, and we were okay with that. So when it happened, it was...shocking, but not unexpected. And definitely exciting.

Less than two weeks later, our little dream life shattered. Our...baby...it was only about 4 weeks old, if I recall, would have to be taken from us. Ectopic pregnancy, it's called. I had never heard of it before and, at first, didn't understand what it meant. Slowly, I learned that it meant the fetus couldn't survive - it was attached to the fallopian tube - and we had to kill "the cells" with medication typically used in chemotherapy to kill cancer cells. Our baby was a cancer, in a sense.

This medication process lasted a week. In the end, we learned the medication was working...the cells were decreasing each time Heather went in to be checked.

It was a Thursday night - I had worked that morning and Heather was off for whatever reason - and we were sitting down to watch FlashForward. Heather became quite uncomfortable. We sat here for another ten minutes maybe, and she appeared to be in a great deal of pain, so I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital and she said yes.

After waiting and watching Heather agonize, she was eventually given an ultrasound, and the results weren't good: the entire area around her belly was full of blood. Her fallopian tube had ruptured. Five or six hours after coming to the ER, at 10 or 11 p.m., she was finally taken into an emergency surgery. They removed the tube and the ectopic pregnancy and cleaned out the mess left behind.

I texted my supervisor around 11, because I was supposed to be at work at 5 a.m. With the severity of the situation, there was no way in hell I was going to be at work the next morning. How I managed to get any sleep at all that night is a miracle. I slept on a pull-out couch in Heather's room and I think I woke up everytime a nurse came in, which was once an hour. We ate breakfast, she relaxed, and we walked the halls a little bit before going home that afternoon.

Much like the previous week, when we initially found out, all my workplace was concerned with was whether or not I was going to be able to come in for at least half the day. I think it infuriates me more now than it did then...I was too confused and too worried about Heather's well-being to understand what, exactly, my work was doing to me: they were using me. It's only been in recent weeks that I have put the puzzle together and realized that they don't care about me, they don't care about my health (physical, mental, or emotional), and they certainly don't care what's going on in my life. They just want my warm fucking body there to work. Especially when one of them is supposed to be off.

I took it hard. I knew Heather took it hard too, even though she tried to play it tough; being vulnerable isn't something she's comfortable with. But we had lost a baby, our baby, and even though it happened so fast - we didn't really have time to develop a bond - it was still a loss. Beyond that, it put our future family plans in doubt - this could happen again.

She cites this as the point in time that she started drinking heavily (again; first time since we entered a relationship together). She kept her hurt bottled up inside. She drank to hide it, or mask it, or make it go away, or just to feel better...whatever her reasoning was. She would have a few beers and she wouldn't come to bed. I'd fall asleep, and she would sneak out to her car, where she apparently kept her hard liquor, and brought it inside for a few shots. Then it went back to her car for safe keepings. How long this continued, I am not sure, but she eventually told me (while drunk, if I recall).

During this same conversation, she made her first attempt (for me, anyway) at admitting she had a problem. She wouldn't call herself an alcoholic, absolutely not, and even saying "I have a drinking problem" wasn't something that came out of her mouth. But the sentiment was there.

From the beginning, we never agreed on drinking. I didn't do it, obviously, and I didn't much care for her doing it. I tolerated it, but anytime I felt she had too much, or was doing it too often, we would clash. The clashes became more frequent, more heated.

After that revelation, I stupidly agreed to a system of "checks and balances," where she could have two drinks a night if she were home; three on the "rare" occasion she went out with friends. I, of course, had to take her word for it when she went out...but based on her drinking at home (two tallboys =/= two drinks), I could figure out that she wasn't abiding by the three drink rule either.

So we had another particularly bad fight about it, the night of St. Patrick's Day. It ended with her agreeing to stop. I had never explicitly told her "stop or I'm leaving," at least I don't think I did, but even if it wasn't explicit - that's how she took it.

This huge miscommunication made things worse. I thought she made the decision on her own; she felt forced. She stopped drinking for two-and-a-half months (mid-March through early June), but in place of drinking, she took up another bad habit. I didn't find this out until several weeks later.

Also during this time period, she switched from second shift at work to first, putting our schedules opposite one another, and giving her all kinds of free (of Jason) time. We also stopped having sex, so she could track her cycle and to make our wedding night a little more exciting and special. I think all of these things contribute to the expansion/development of Heather being a bit of a powder keg. And as a powder keg, she only needed a slight spark to set herself free and that spark came in the form of an "old friend."

In June, we visited Madison, Wisconsin. It was supposed to be a fun time - bridal shower, bachelor and bachelorette parties, my friends were coming too...instead of being a great time, for me, it was a disaster. She resumed drinking. She hung out with this "old friend" every fucking day. She wanted nothing to do with me, expecting me to hang out with my friends exclusively - yes, I was going to spend time with them, but I was under the impression this was our vacation, me and her, and it was also in celebration of our wedding...I don't think it's out of the realm of reasonable thinking that we'd spend our vacation together.

I cried. A lot. Her (and her friends') idea of "keeping her safe" wasn't to limit her drinking, but to give her something else in place of alcohol. Good call. We fought, for hours. I took her engagement ring back, for a few hours. I didn't sleep much.

I don't know why she came back to Des Moines. I think it was because of her job. And her stuff. All of her stuff was here. It certainly wasn't for me. I thought we were over then and there. It was ugly.

I spent the rest of the month of June trying anxiety medications and fighting off my own relapse.

I failed.

June 30, 2010 I started drinking again. I was a handful of days away from my four-year anniversary. I continued to drink throughout most of July. I drank coffee and caffeine during the day, taking my meds along the way (as prescribed). Then I would drink my night away, capping most nights off with a clonazepam washed down with Jack Daniel's.

Heather drank, too. We weren't exactly drinking buddies; she'd drink in the early evening, I'd drink in the later evening. We were roommates, who both happened to be alcoholics. We continued to fight. I was hurt, disappointed, lonely, confused...a myriad of emotions. I had lost my own personal battle with alcohol and I felt like I was losing the person I loved, too. Sex was rare, any kind of common ground was hard to come by. I'd go as far as saying we hated each other. It continued being ugly.

And every time it seemed like things were improving, we took several more steps backwards. I stayed a portion of a week at my mom's house. I took her engagement ring back again, this time for an extended period of time. Our wedding is postponed. My vision of the future is gone; annihilated. I continued to pry into her private life, in search of the truth (and finding it).

Her list of transgressions is long and painful, but I guess that's my own fault? Had I not snooped, I would've never known and gotten hurt..."ignorance is bliss" is the saying, I guess? I understand that what I did was wrong, but...not knowing doesn't mean it didn't happen.

So here we are. I'm 38 days sober. No, it's not four-plus years, but I am making things right for myself. The first two weeks were excruciating. I had trouble sleeping. I had a constant headache in the back of my neck. Ironic as it seems now, being called into work on about day 11 was a Godsend. It was supposed to be a day off, so I stayed up til 2 a.m. When I went to bed, I couldn't sleep til after 4 a.m. Work called around 4:40 a.m. and I was pissed then - half an hour of sleep, a headache, and having to work on my day off? Fuck that! But I got home, showered, and crashed out around 1 p.m. Slept like a baby. Woke up and my 11 day headache was gone.

Heather is 24 days sober. She is struggling, but it is a positive struggle. She has been in treatment since early August and she has learned things and appears to want to be sober. I'm worried about whether she'll stay sober from all her behaviors, or if she'll continue to look for other bad habits to fill the void. It's still a struggle.

She has her engagement ring back. I didn't quite give it to her the way I wanted to, but she has it, and she's wearing it. "We'll get married one day," she told me. We're not engaged again, not yet. We're just back in a relationship. Sometimes that doesn't even seem like an accurate description. She has treatment (and soon, work) in the mornings. I work in the evenings. She has meetings, I have meetings.

And she wants "space." For what, I am not sure, I guess it hasn't been explicitly stated. But she has been dealing with withdrawals, cravings, the irritation that goes with those things, and trying to process things in her brain so that she can accept sobriety into her life.

I feel like I barely get to see her, or spend time with her. That's all I want. As I told her tonight, I didn't get into a relationship to have all this time to myself, I got into a relationship so I could spend time with another person. If I wanted to be alone, I'd be single. When I was single, I was fine with that alone time; I cherished it. I liked myself, I was happy and positive about my life, I had friends and hobbies.

But I am not single anymore. I'm in a relationship, I was engaged, and I should be getting married next month. That's what I want: a wife and a best friend to share my life with. I want to be a father and have a family. I'm ready for that. She's not and I understand and respect that, but it can still be frustrating for me.

My vision of the future is fractured, my spirit broken. I am beginning to pick up the pieces, but there is no semblance of time anymore. I still see a wedding, but it certainly isn't next month. I still see a baby, but I doubt it will be next summer (when we were hoping to have one by). I still see a new job and a new city, but where? When? And will it be the two of us going together, or will we split ways? I'm scared.

I know I shouldn't plan the future so far out - I didn't think I was, it's not like I have a five-year plan or anything, but I figured a year or two out was natural. Get married in October. Honeymoon. Get pregnant. Have baby in July or August. Find a new job next fall. Buy a house sometime in the year after that. That's it. I mean, three of those were to be accomplished next month...am I not supposed to even plan my life a month in advance?

I honestly don't believe the way I have lived my life is unreasonable. Have I done some things I wish I could change or take back? Yes. I have a lot of regrets, and I always will. But I am a generally good person who has led a generally good life and believed myself to be in a generally good spot with a generally good plan for the future.

And that's all been pissed away.

Being "generally" good isn't enough. Nothing is ever enough with/for me. I need to be "exceptionally" good. Ha. Weird, how it always seems to come full-circle. Kind of a cryptic way to end it, but I suppose I'll save that for another blog, another time.

[the buried life]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRexWE9yBVA

I love The Buried Life. Great show, great kids, doing great (and fun) things. As discussed in my last blog, I've never really had a "bucket list," and even once I started to construct it in said blog, it amounted to three items. Since then, I've managed to build my list up to six items.

[what would you like to do before you die?]

1. Attend WrestleMania

(Completed this one four times over. WrestleManias 22, 23, 24, and 25 in the years 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009. Discussed in detail in my previous blog, and prior to that, it got a mention or two...)

2. See Michael Jordan play basketball
(This one will probably never get crossed off. I guess it's not out of the question, but with Jordan older and retired [no more comebacks, either], the opportunities are few and far between to see him play ball live. The closest I ever came was 1994, we had tickets to a Bulls-Timberwolves game, purchased prior to Jordan's first retirement. Damn.)

3. Attend a Motley Crue concert

(Completed this one five times over. I saw them in concert twice in 2005, once in Des Moines and once in Sioux City. Then I saw them on CrueFest 1 and 2 in 2008 and 2009, both times in St. Louis. And then once more in Des Moines, in 2009, sandwiched between the two CrueFests.)

4. Participate in, and complete, a triathlon
(A standard triathlon is out of the question, at least to begin with. My first goal is a sprint triathlon, which is half a standard. The Copper Creek Triathlon is a local sprint, and I'm targeting the 2011 running, since it takes place in June and I don't think I could be ready by this June.

A sprint consists of a half-mile swim, a 12-mile bike ride, and a 3-mile run. I've been swimming three times a week for exercise lately, so the swimming doesn't worry me. Heather and I are hoping to get cheap bikes this summer, so we can ride around town, and I'm not concerned with a 12-mile ride, considering how much riding we did in our scavenger hunt last November.

What bothers me is the run. I just can't run. Several months ago, before I laid off the exercise train entirely, I was trying to jog a 12-minute mile on the treadmill here at our apartment complex. The last several times I tried this, I completed the mile, but it absolutely destroyed my knees.

While I maintain my swim routine, I plan on drawing up a workout schedule, incorporating jogs, yoga, and eventually bike rides [once we have bikes]. With over a year to prepare for this, I hope I can slowly build up to a mile, and then two, and finally three.

This is a pretty random addition to the list. I have no idea what prompted me to consider it, but based on my current swimming routine and future biking, I figured it might be a nice goal to build towards.)

5. Publish a story
(I like to write stories. Well, used to. I've been working on something lately. I hope to get some feedback/criticism on it, improve it, and get a finished product. Or come up with a new idea.)

6. Compete in a three-on-three basketball tournament with my uncle and cousin
(A last-minute addition tonight. I was talking to the weekend sports anchor at work, and he is playing in a three-on-three basketball tournament this summer in Washington. Just talking about it made me want to do it as well. I used to love basketball, and still do [somewhere deep down]. But as I thought about it, what I loved the most about playing basketball, was playing with my uncle Tim and cousin Jeff. We were quite a formidable trio back in our YMCA playing days, and while my uncle is getting older, and their father-son relationship is lacking, I think we could still pull out some of the old magic.

There's a couple of local tournaments - DMACC's Wild, Wild West tournament and the Hoopin' at the Dome tournament. I think it would be fun, and exciting, for the three of us to get back to the basics. This is how we bonded in 1997. Maybe this is how we reunite and bond in 2010.)

As I said, I intend on updating this particular blog entry as I come up with new additions to the list, as well as cross off the ones I complete. I also hope to begin blogging on a regular basis to get the writing juices flowing again. Plus, I like to keep track of my life. :)

What happened to the magic?

Out of reach. It always just seemed out of reach. Granted, I was a sheltered teenager, with no "real world experience," no car, no travel sense, no money. I just wanted to go. Needed to go.

Quite frankly, it was an obsession. It IS an obsession.

Professional wrestling was a huge part of my childhood. I went through Ghostbusters, Ninja Turtles, and Power Rangers like bowling pins. Had a good time, and knocked 'em down. And that was it, it was over. But Hulk Hogan? Macho Man? Ultimate Warrior? Man...I could never tire of them. Never.

And I didn't. Well, sorta. As I got older, when the love for Egon and Michaelangelo and the Red Ranger died off, my love of professional wrestling was still there. Still here, now. Sure, Hogan got older, and Warrior went crazy (both of them ;) )...but professional wrestling was always able to reinvent itself, in ways other forms of entertainment cannot. Hulk Hogan became Shawn Michaels. Randy Savage became Bret Hart. And then Michaels became Steve Austin, Hart became The Rock. Austin and Rock? They became John Cena and Batista.

It's an evolution, and despite the trials and tribulations that professional wrestling suffers from...and despite the fact that being a fan and supporting the product makes me a terrible person by virtue...I still love it. I'm almost 27 years old, for godssakes. But I can't help it. It's spell-binding, mesmerizing, and completely ageless. I loved it when I was 7. I'll love it when I'm 77.

It was WrestleMania XIV. "Tyson and Austin! Tyson and Austin!" A complete spectacle. I was 14 and we ordered it on pay-per-view. I had watched pay-per-views before. I know I had done what countless other wrestling fans had done, and I tuned into channel 98, where I could hear the audio and maybe catch a glimpse of a picture. I'm not certain, but I also imagine I had seen a WrestleMania on pay-per-view before. But 14? Shawn Michaels' last match for four-and-a-half years? Steve Austin's first world title win? Mike Tyson?

It was my turning point. There was no going back. I was an addict forever.

I've probably blogged this story at least once or twice before, but it needs to be written again. I told myself after WrestleMania XIV, when I was 14, that I would go to a WrestleMania. Well, scratch that...not just any WrestleMania. I had planned on going to the next WrestleMania.

I was 15, and it was WrestleMania XV. And I remember, right up until I was listening to the audio on channel 98 -- at home, in Des Moines -- right up until that moment, maybe a few matches in even, I honestly thought I could've somehow ended up there. In Philadelphia. The evening wore on, I probably got a little angry. Or disappointed. Both. Next year, I thought.

The next year, I was 16, and it was WrestleMania XVI. Well, technically, it was WrestleMania 2000 (in the year 2000, quite obviously). You see, WrestleMania and I grew up together. I was 1, when the first one took place. 2 when the second happened, and so on. I'll always be the same "age" as WrestleMania, forever. We're linked. In 2000, it was in Anaheim, California. And I wasn't.

And then it was WrestleMania X-Seven. And I was X-Seven years old. It was in Houston, I was in Des Moines. I watched this one from Billy Joe's Pitcher Show, a movie theater/restaurant, that played wrestling pay-per-views on the big screen. There was food, there was a host, there were games and prizes. There was smoke. Lots of smoke. And WrestleMania X-Seven was (and still is) widely regarded as the greatest WrestleMania, top-to-bottom, of all-time.

And I missed it, too.

In 2002, I was finally 18, an adult. WrestleMania X8 took place in Toronto, Canada, and I lusted after WrestleMania with a renewed vigor that I hadn't had in previous attempts. There were tickets online. Expensive e-scalper tickets. But I had the money. I had MapQuest directions. It would've taken 13+ hours.

I just needed to convince Jeff and Frankie to do it. For one, I needed Frankie's car. And for two, it would've been epic. I never considered where we would stay once we got there. I never considered how to handle crossing international borders. None of it mattered, I just wanted...needed...WrestleMania.

I could've been there for Rock vs. Hogan. That's all that consumed me for some time after the event took place...I could've been there. But I wasn't.

From there, while I was adamant that I still needed to attend a WrestleMania before I died, I resigned myself to the fact that I had no transportation of my own, no support, no sense, and a measly amount of money. I resigned myself to the fact that -- with WrestleMania in Seattle, New York City, and Los Angeles -- WrestleMania, for me, wasn't meant to be. Yet.

(As you can probably tell, WrestleMania was basically the only entry on my "bucket list" for a long, long time. There really isn't anything else I've ever considered important enough to me that it would belong on such a list. Maybe "go to my high school prom," which I did; afterwards, I realized that my life would've been perfectly fine without it. "See Motley Crue in concert" and "see Michael Jordan play basketball" are probably the only other two entries, one of which I accomplished -- Motley Crue, I believe five times over now -- and the other of which is basically impossible at this juncture in life.

Sure, there are other important things to me, like getting married and having a child, but those are also things I can't force the issue with, or do on my own. If they happened, they happened. If they didn't, my life would go on...no need to put them on a list. And anything else that could possibly make its way onto another person's list -- skydiving, meet a U.S. President, crash a party at the Playboy Mansion -- aren't important to me. Would they be interesting things? Sure. But they are things I can live without.

I couldn't live without WrestleMania.)

In 2005, WrestleMania 21 was in LA. I was 21 years old, and I wasn't much different than when I was 14, pining to go to this amazing event: I was broke, I had no car, I still lived at home, and I still had absolutely no sense. But things changed that night when, during the pay-per-view, they played a video revealing the location of WrestleMania 22:

Chicago, Illinois.

I was overwhelmed with joy. Finally, I thought, finally a location that is legitimately within reach. Chicago is only a five or six hour drive from Des Moines, it would be an easy road trip. Greg and his friends wouldn't have much farther to go, either, coming from the St. Louis area. This was my chance. My chance to not only see WrestleMania, but to visit Chicago, to meet my new friends, to try to change the course of my life (more on that later).

My friends got their tickets. I got mine. Three, actually. Mine, Walt's, and my uncle's. My uncle was key to this entire plan, because he was my transportation. He was getting me to Chicago, around Chicago, and home from Chicago. And he'd be able to get us a hotel room, and it would be a great time. WrestleMania, new friends, my uncle, and booze. Of course there'd be booze, it was going to be a party!

As previously discussed on this very blog (and many other places, I'm sure), the lead-up to this road trip was a disaster. I hit rock bottom. No pun intended. I was dumped by a girl named Megan (the second Megan to dump me in my lifetime), my uncle pulled out of our trip, and I lost my job. None of those things were fun. At all.

Now I had a WrestleMania ticket, and absolutely no way of getting there. Still didn't own a car of my own, no credit card for a hotel room, barely any money and no job to make money. Was I destined to never attend this event?

I had to turn to my mom for help. 22 years old, and my mother is still bailing me out. I felt so pathetic. But, she played her part, and she helped me out (and stayed out of my hair). My brother, Scott, took over my uncle's ticket. We went to Chicago, we stayed at a nice hotel, we rented an extra car so Scott and I could do our thing while my mom and John did theirs. I had Chicago-style pizza. I met some good friends, most notably Greg Jovi. I attended my first Ring Of Honor event, and I attended my first WrestleMania...

Finally.

WrestleMania 22. It also marked the first time (to my own knowledge and recollection) I had ever seen Shawn Michaels, my all-time favorite, wrestle in a match. I saw Rey Mysterio capture his first (and so far, only) world title. I saw a great hardcore match between Edge and Mick Foley. And I saw the "unofficial" WrestleMania debut of CM Punk.

To steal from one of this year's theme songs, I made it.

I can't say much for certain, but I truly believe that WrestleMania 22 weekend in Chicago, Illinois in 2006 changed my life. And for that, I am forever indebted to the WWE, to the city of Chicago, and to the friends I made that weekend.

The rest of 2006 was spent righting the wrongs of my life...finding a job, quitting drinking, getting a credit card. When WrestleMania 23 came the following year, I was still living at home (for another month or so, anyway), but life was much better. I had two part-time jobs. I had a credit card. I was eight months sober. And generally speaking, I was happy. Much happier than I had been the previous few years.

Our group of friends expanded in 2007 and so did our road trip. Chicago had been five or six hours the year before, this time, Detroit was five or six hours...from Chicago. Ten hours on the road, we left at midnight on a Thursday night and arrived in the Motor City at noon on Friday.

The shenanigans. They also got bigger, more daring, more fun. We went to two ROH shows, we were let down by Mick Foley's bitch ass, and we witnessed CM Punk's "official" WrestleMania debut. We also saw Vince McMahon have his head shaved bald, and we witnessed a Shawn Michaels WrestleMania main event. All the laughter, all the fun, all the wrestling...everything from the year before, we experienced again. And it was better the second time around.

When they announced during WrestleMania that the following year, they'd emanate from Orlando, there was no hesitation. I texted Greg, Greg texted me, there were texts all around (we all sat in different seats) -- "Orlando?! We are SO there!"

2008. WrestleMania 24. Orlando, Florida. That's a 23 hour drive from Des Moines, Iowa and just like our WrestleMania 23 trip built off WrestleMania 22, we followed suit for WrestleMania 24 and went bigger than we had ever gone before. We took Frankie's mom's van down to St. Louis, where we picked up Greg and Patrick, and the five of us (me, Frankie, Scott, Greg, and Pat) continued our journey through the night.

We left Des Moines at 6pm Tuesday evening. We arrived in Orlando at 6pm Wednesday evening. Straight through, little (or no) sleep. Orlando or bust. We met CM Punk at an autograph signing. That was the first thing we did. We didn't shower, or take a nap, or even find our townhouse...we went straight to Wal-Mart, and met CM Punk.

Then we found our townhouse. Our glorious, amazing, spectacular, stupendous, awesome, great townhouse. Nicest place I've ever stayed in, for anything, ever. Gorgeous. Comfortable. Again, we had to go big, so not only did we all (well, sans Soneel and Walt) travel down together, but all seven of us stayed together at this magnificent place. We also made sure to get seats together for WrestleMania 24, another new experience for us. The past two times we went, we bought our own tickets, and ended up seated in various sections of the enormous crowd.

We (I) blew a tire. We played mini-golf in the amazing Florida weather. We went to Daytona Beach. We went to two Ring Of Honor shows. We marked out huge for CM Punk's first WrestleMania win. We saw Ric Flair's retirement match. It is still my personal favorite trip we've ever taken. It was perfect, in every way.

Finally, WrestleMania 25. 2009. I was 25, and whereas the previous year was perfect and a celebration of that perfection, this one felt like...the end of an era. We didn't want to believe it at the time, but I think by the end of this blog, you'll understand that it was. It was a celebration of all that was, not all that will be.

We went big again, one last time. All seven of us rode down together in a massive passenger van, something like 26 hours straight through from Des Moines to Galveston, Texas (WrestleMania was in Houston last year). We ate at JR's Family Barbecue (twice). We stayed in another great townhouse, a stone's throw from the beach and Gulf of Mexico. We played flag football on the beach, we stayed for RAW on Monday. We marked out for CM Punk winning his second straight Money In The Bank match. We also marked out for Ricky "The Dragon" Steamboat.

We witnessed the greatest match of all-time.

This year, we're all disappointed. There will be no WrestleMania XXVI, live, for us. No beautiful Phoenix weather. No crazy stories, hilarious jokes, and great wrestling. No Colt Cabana/Mick Foley stand-up comedy. No ROH, no Dragon Gate USA. No random meet-and-greets, no Axxess, no gorgeous desert backdrop to our shenanigans. No Armando Estrada's Baby's Steaks and Lemonade Restaurant (lmao). We won't be there for Bret Hart's first WWE match in 12+ years. We won't be there for what is likely to be Shawn Michaels' last match.

We're an army. We have soldiered through shit you couldn't imagine. I don't think Walt has been mentally or physically "well" since we first met him over WrestleMania 22 weekend. He has fought for everything he is worth to get better, so that he can fully enjoy the experiences we've had (and will continue to have). Patrick is currently dealing with the impending loss of his job. Greg and I have both dealt with the loss of a grandparent, and the finality that a close death brings to a person. It's done, it's over. There's no going back.

We've dealt with the loss of what we considered a good friend, to his own trivial bullshit. He took, and he took, and he took...and he never gave back. He never offered to help anyone else. He just needed to get by, pull one over on somebody else, use them up until he could find somebody new to leech off of.

My family is fractured, broken. There's no fixing it. Even the parts I want to fix, I can't. I can only soldier on. Just like Greg. And Patrick. And Walt. And Scott.

We're soldiers. We're an army, a gang, a [cult].

The money wasn't there this year, for any of us. We didn't want to fly, it kind of takes away part of the experience. We didn't have the necessary vacation time either. Between my wedding, Patrick's job loss, and the need for approximately seven days off...just hard to make it happen.

And driving? Even if we could, driving would be near-impossible. We went from a five-hour jaunt (Chicago) to a ten-hour grind (Detroit), to a 23-hour marathon (Orlando), to a 26-hour epic journey (Houston/Galveston). Phoenix, driving? With a pass through St. Louis, it would've been in the neighborhood of 30+ hours. One way.

We are a rag-tag band of soldiers. We've fought hard, valiant, and most of us have come home intact. But we've reached a point where we need to regroup, not fight. It's not a decision we like, or even want, to make. But we can't do it. We won't be in Phoenix. We aren't in Phoenix.

It has been fun. Brilliant and exciting. Relaxing, refreshing. Awe-inspiring, imagination-capturing. It has been one great ride. We've logged an impossible amount of hours on the road, seen loads of amazing matches, met an assortment of characters.

My life is great. I wanted to attend one WrestleMania. If I never go again, I can always say that I went to four. Four straight. That's mine, and it can't be taken away.

It's an obsession. An addiction. The past several months, yeah, it's been nice not having to go through the tedious process of planning a trip of that magnitude...but I've had the itch, constantly. Right up until about early Sunday evening, I'll scheme of ways to still make this happen. Plane tickets. WrestleMania tickets. RAW tickets. A nice place to stay. Come home next Wednesday. Yeah, we'll have missed all the excitement of "WrestleMania week," but we'll still have a few days together. And the big show.

When the opening bell hits (about the time I bow out of my 5:30 newscast), I'll have to resign myself to knowing I won't be there. But if there's one thing I've learned since this journey began, way back at WrestleMania XIV ("Tyson and Austin! Tyson and Austin!")...

It's that there's always next year. ;)

The magic, the spectacle, the wonder...it may have had to take a hiatus this year, but WrestleMania 27 is only 360-some odd days away. And it's in Atlanta, which we passed through on our way to Orlando...I think...finally reeling in the distance a little bit since all this insanity began.

So, sure, we might miss out on Bret vs. Vince. And Shawn's last match. But what could next year bring? John Cena's attempt to break the UnderTaker's streak? Goldberg vs. Batista? Okay...that'd probably be pretty bad, lol. CM Punk in the honest-to-goodness main event?

We're only four years out from another WrestleMania at Madison Square Garden, too. Need to keep that in mind. The [cult]: takin' a bite out the Big Apple.

And we still ain't roped Chris Rucker into attending one yet!

Four years ago, I was a nobody. At the bottom. Miserable, angry, had no direction. No sense. I was a broken fool.

Now, I'm none of those things. Well, some may still believe I'm a nobody. And I probably still don't have any sense. But I'm happy, I have direction, and I've patched up quite well. I fully intend on being in Atlanta next year, so I hope my fellow road doggs are ready.

We've got a trip to plan, and an addiction to feed.

"Life is beautiful."
-N.SIXX-

The Anatomy of a Good Faction Wars Team -- Part Five

V. Build for the Future...But Don't Give Up the Present

"I think the most important part to building a winner is guts. You can't be scared to take chances. No balls no glory is the one philosophy that I live by when it comes to running my team." - Walt Florio, former GM of Stacy's Freak

An interesting topic that comes up in Faction Wars is the theories behind building a contender season after season. Several franchises have maintained their dominance in multiple seasons, which would seem like a difficult task to accomplish, considering general managers are forced to relinquish eight of their ten players.

So how does one do it? It hinges on the draft, of course. Unlike the initial draft, though, the draft pool is already thinned out, with the ten best players already retained by their teams. While a GM can muster together a team based on saavy picks, an important key is to acquire higher picks via regular season trades.

The best GMs have been able to trade away good players, acquire good picks, and still maintain a strong team in their current season. Trading for picks also serves as an important insurance policy.

"[Earlier this season], I optioned to trade away Mr. Anderson for the Hitmen's second round pick. The hidden agenda I had with that trade involved Jeff Hardy returning to the WWE at the Royal Rumble. It was a pipedream, I was working on a real gut instinct, and it failed. But that's why I opted to trade for a pick, instead of dropping one of my bottom talents for Hardy. Even though it failed, I managed to set myself up with three top ten draft picks." - Jason Coellner, The !@#$ers GM

But, one can't become too trade-happy. The loss of too many key players may set a GM up for a strong draft next season, but they should start planning early: because there's no chance of them making the playoffs. Season ten would be a poor example, as all six teams had a chance at the playoffs until Week Fourteen, but should a team be eliminated from contention earlier, it opens up the opportunity to begin the rebuilding process.

"...as soon as you deem your chances at the playoffs no more, start dealing away anyone you don't want to retain. Why not? Some guys who aren't going to be kept could still be a big boost to a playoff team and the team out of the playoffs stands nothing to lose." - Greg Jovi, eGo Busters GM

Greg Jovi also believes (as stated in an earlier part of this series of articles) that having three team anchors is key to remaining in contention every season. The only way to maintain a three-Main Eventer core, a GM needs to hang onto its first round pick.

"Unless there is something huge on the table, I don't ever want to give up my first round pick again. You really NEED that third anchor, because something could easily go wrong with your two retained guys and then where are you at? Fucked." - Greg Jovi, eGo Busters GM

In conclusion, the key to being a good Faction Wars team is summed up best by, who else? Walt Florio:

"Confidence, I believe, is another good quality to have in FW.  You have to be able to be confident in your abilities to find a way to make the talent you have work.  I don't think there is a right or a wrong way to run a team, but I think that if a GM is not confident in how they run their team they are setting themselves up for failure.  I believe you just have to realize you will not win every week, or win the title every season, and just have to be willing to take the chances needed in order to make those adjustments the times you don't win so you can win the next time."

The Anatomy of a Good Faction Wars Team -- Part Four

IV. Adaptation

"The wrestling industry is an ever changing industry." - Walt Florio, former GM of Stacy's Freak


"There are always diamonds in the rough on any given week." - Walt Florio, former GM of Stacy's Freak


"Problems get harder and harder to deal with due to the lack of depth, but you just have to search for that diamond in the rough in free agency and hope they can pull you through." - Greg Jovi, eGo Busters GM

Adaption is the name of the game in Faction Wars. Very few teams survive to make the playoffs without adjusting their rosters as the season wears on. The key to a successful season is to develop a solid core of players - Florio suggests two main eventers, while Jovi believes a core of three successful players is necessary.

From there, a GM needs to adapt his roster, playing to the strengths (or, occasionally, weaknesses) of his core. For some GMs, this means building a team of decent midcarders that can be relied upon most weeks; for other GMs, this theory is taken more literally - they build and rebuild their team on a near-weekly basis, filling holes and sealing cracks that will just reopen the following week.

"Don't be afraid to make roster moves and take a chance in hopes [of finding] a possible diamond in the rough for that given week, if someone has an announced match or something of the sorts." - Walt Florio, former GM of Stacy's Freak

During Faction Wars 1.0, the week-to-week rebuilding was considerably easier, as the WWE and TNA previewed their upcoming week's cards in advance. During the first season of Faction Wars 2.0, the two companies (WWE, especially) have kept their cards close to their chest. The effect this has on the constant rebuild is that a general manager has no idea what matches are on tap for the week, and any weekly free agent pick-ups made are typically gut feelings.

An example: the Nasty Boys vs. Team 3D tables match that took place on a recent Impact. In general, none of those four players have given a GM any reason to pick them up this season. Had their match been previewed ahead of time on TNAWrestling.com, Brother Ray and/or Brother Devon could've been picked up by a team. As a result of their gimmick match win, each man scored 6 points, and placed in the weekly power rankings. But, as a result of the match not being advertised ahead of time, they each scored 6 points as free agents.

However, despite the inability to week-to-week a roster as well as in the past, a GM can still seek out solid players. Prior to their closure, ECW consistently brought in new performers who would receive "the new guy push" (see: Archer, Vance). Tournaments, future title shots, and surprise returns also lend themselves to finding diamonds in the rough.

"Sometimes you can't cash in right away. Like surprise returns, like Frankie Kazarian. It happens, nobody knows about it, and the points are buried in free agency. But the wrestling companies usually follow up on things like surprise returns, so you can cash in the next week. Or the next." - Jason Coellner, The !@#$ers GM

One final key to adapting a roster: pay attention to the schedule. There have been instances in Faction Wars history when RAW or Impact has expanded to three hours. During the time period when Impact was only one hour, and the Impact Rule was in play, that needed to be taken into consideration (especially on TNA PPV weeks, when the Impact Rule was not in effect).

A TNA midcarder is more valuable in a TNA PPV week than a WWE midcarder. Same holds true for WWE PPV weeks. These instances can be used by general managers to their advantage, making their team stronger even if it's just for one week.

"Obviously pay-per-views and multiple shows or extended shows play a huge part in who you play and where. I think my core pretty much stays the same though. That's where it pays to read Gerweck and check the stats often." - Greg Jovi, eGo Busters GM

Adaptation has also led to the creation of a Faction Wars exclusive: The 8:01 All-Stars. Any time a player is picked up for the sole purpose of their point production for a single week, and then dropped after the start of RAW (8 p.m. Central, Faction Wars' weekly deadline), they earn the distinction of "8:01 All-Star."

The Anatomy of a Good Faction Wars Team -- Part Three

III. Good Wrestlers Are Not Necessarily Good Faction Wars Players

"I think UnderTaker is pound for pound the worst Faction Wars guy ever." - Greg Jovi, eGo Busters GM

The UnderTaker is public enemy number one in this section of the Anatomy of a Good Faction Wars Team. He is a main eventer. He is a World Champion at times. He's the most protected man on the WWE roster. But he wrestles a part-time schedule.

Part-time and protected equate to Faction Wars dead weight. In the first ten weeks of season ten, the UnderTaker has posted two 5-point-plus weeks. The rest of the season, he's posted a lot of 1's. Two straight weeks of 0. Those are not "main event" numbers, despite his status as a main eventer.

eGo Busters General Manager, Greg Jovi, also feels that this section should mention "favorite" wrestlers which is slightly different than (but in a similar vein as) "good" wrestlers. As discussed in part one (Drafting for Dummies), CM Punk has made a Faction Wars career out of being the favorite wrestler of nearly everyone in the league. Even this season, which is possibly Punk's best single-season performance since debuting in Faction Wars, he is a top 15 player - not a top 5 player. A player of Punk's caliber makes him a third round draft pick; even picking him in the second round might be feasible, but certainly not the first round.

And yet, CM Punk has consistently be drafted in the first round.

Until this season, Shawn Michaels was also in the same category as the UnderTaker: a main eventer, a title contender, a WWE mainstay...and a terrible Faction Wars player. Michaels has been able to prop himself up in past seasons, unlike 'Taker, due to having an easily-hit finisher. Since the Faction Wars reboot, Michaels has been a monster, looking to redeem himself for nine seasons of sub-par work.

The good wrestlers that are also good Faction Wars player, according to Walt Florio, should always be on the table if it means getting something better in return.

"If I have a wrestler that is currently getting pushed well I have no problem trading them. I think I have proven to be excellent at trading talent other players want for good value and remaining strong in the current season." - Walt Florio, former GM of Stacy's Freak

The king of swindling, Florio always knew how to use good players to his advantage - be it on his team, or on his trading block. Prior to the elimination of an all-inclusive playoff bracket, strategy was as simple as building a team that would be good at playoff time, regardless of how well they performed prior to that. With that knowledge, Florio dealt away good "now" players for good "later" players and is part of the reason he won the Season Three Championship, despite a 3-6-3 regular season record.

On the flipside of this equation, there are wrestlers that aren't that good and/or aren't well-liked, but they produce points consistently.

"For instance, NOBODY likes Kane. He's like the anti-Taker. He's a decent player, but nobody wants him on their team. Why? Cause he's Kane!" - Greg Jovi, eGo Busters GM

Kane has no strong upside. He only occasional holds a title. He consistently challenges for titles (and consistently fails to win them). He floats from mid-card feud to mid-card feud. But somehow, Kane puts up respectable numbers, fleshing out the undercard of whichever team manages to sneak him onto their roster.