Post by sxe4life on Apr 28, 2011 19:54:51 GMT -5
Travis Warner: The Introduction
Why do I follow the straight edge lifestyle? Is it because I want to seem as though I'm perfect? Could it be because I simply don't want to conform to what society believes is correct? No. No, you see I chose to follow the lifestyle that I live because at a young age my eyes were opened to the truth of the world. I saw people for who they really were. I saw the vices that controlled their lives. And at that moment I vowed to myself that I would never let myself become like one of them. I would never give in to the temptations that suck in new souls everyday. And for the haters of the world, I want you to know that I feed on your hatred. Mock me, tease me, harass me, do and say whatever makes you feel better about your own life, because all you do is add fuel to the fire. And then, when the time comes, you're going to feel the flames as I put you through hell inside of the ring. But why do I follow the straightedge lifestyle? I told you the basics, but for you to truly understand, perhaps I should tell you the story.
Ten years ago I was just another regular thirteen year old kid living in Seattle. I'd go to school, hang out with friends and, of course, watch wrestling on TV. Life was sweet. But then things changed and my life pulled a total one-eighty. My mother started to feel sick, and while at first we all thought it was nothing, she only got worse as time went on. And then on a fateful trip to the doctor she received the news that began this journey.
Cancer.
The one word that feels like a knife being jammed into my heart every time I hear it spoken. The doctors had no idea how she had gone for so long without ever being diagnosed before that day. It was already so advanced that they told her no treatment could help, it would only sightly delay the inevitable. I still remember that day like it was only yesterday. February 6th, 2001. They gave her two to three months, four at the most before it would all be over. She was a fighter though, my mom. She looked that doctor in the eye and said "to hell with that, I'll go when I'm good and ready." And she did. March 3rd, 2002 she died, just shy of thirteen months after she was diagnosed. That day was the worst of my life, and the weeks that followed only made it worse. No relatives were around to take me in so the state decided to put me into foster care. And apparently not just any foster parents take in kids when they reach that age, because in the six homes I was placed in, I was subjected to watching how the scum of the earth operated. Drug addicts, alcoholics, wife beaters and the people that only take in orphans so they could collect money from the state to live a life without working. They never cared for us kids, we were just their way of making an easy buck. We hardly ate, and when we did, it was always some greasy crap that smelled like dog food. Our clothes and sneakers were always hand me downs from the kids before us and they hardly ever fit right. And I had to put up with it all for four long, agonizing years until I turned eighteen and left on my own.
But for as much as I despise the people that I lived with, as much I wish I could go back to those homes and make those people feel sorry for what I was subjected to, I wouldn't be where I am today without them. And I sure as hell wouldn't be the person that I am now. My past is why I choose to be straightedge. I choose to abstain from the things so many enjoy because I have seen their true effects. And before you all rant about how it seems like I'm preaching to you, know that I'm not here to convert any of you to straightedge, I'm just simply informing you before you make your own judgment. So mock me. Call me a nerd. Call me an emo. Call me whatever you will, but your words will never hurt me because I know that only what I think of myself matters.
Thursday April 28th, 2011
So is it El Matador..or Pulse II?
Those words are heard spoken as the scene begins. Travis Warner is standing in front of a brick wall, nonchalantly leaning up against it as he munches on a bag of barbecue potato chips. He's dressed rather plainly in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, which has sXe crudely written out in black tape on the front.
Not that it honestly matters, I mean this isn't like Clark Kent pulling off the glasses and becoming Superman. El Matador changing his name to Pulse II and putting on some shiny metal pants doesn't mean he's become an unstoppable force, it just means it's El Matador...in shiny metal pants. Changing your name doesn't mean it changes who you really are Pulse, and it doesn't make people forget about your miserable record either. And if you think I'm joking, then I suggest you look to the Washington Nationals for proof.
Warner pauses for a moment to munch on a few more chips. He motions to someone off camera and a bottle of cherry Coke is tossed to him.
But of course what do I know? I may have spent the last five years wrestling in abandoned warehouses in Jersey and barns out in rural Nebraska for a few hundred die hard fans, but here I'm just another newbie. I've seen and wrestled every type of wrestler out there, from hillbilly farmers to street thugs to even a guy in a dress...
Warner shudders as thought pops back into his head.
The point though, is that I've seen so many different people come and so many people go in this business, and guys like you are usually the quickest to be the latter. Do you really believe that you are better than your one and four record? Because I don't. In fact, if it hadn't been for Mark Markman feeling some pity for you and throwing you Curtis Jones, you wouldn't even have that one win. I look at everyone in WCF, from top to bottom, and matched up against anyone of them would result in a loss for you. And that includes me, the newb.
A bit of a smile crosses Warner's face before the serious look comes back.
I'll leave it at that Pulse, because in all honesty talk is cheap. I let what I do in the ring speak for myself, and this Monday night on Slam I'm going to make sure you and everyone else gets an earful.
Warner raises his arms up in an X over his head and then walks off camera as the scene ends.
Why do I follow the straight edge lifestyle? Is it because I want to seem as though I'm perfect? Could it be because I simply don't want to conform to what society believes is correct? No. No, you see I chose to follow the lifestyle that I live because at a young age my eyes were opened to the truth of the world. I saw people for who they really were. I saw the vices that controlled their lives. And at that moment I vowed to myself that I would never let myself become like one of them. I would never give in to the temptations that suck in new souls everyday. And for the haters of the world, I want you to know that I feed on your hatred. Mock me, tease me, harass me, do and say whatever makes you feel better about your own life, because all you do is add fuel to the fire. And then, when the time comes, you're going to feel the flames as I put you through hell inside of the ring. But why do I follow the straightedge lifestyle? I told you the basics, but for you to truly understand, perhaps I should tell you the story.
Ten years ago I was just another regular thirteen year old kid living in Seattle. I'd go to school, hang out with friends and, of course, watch wrestling on TV. Life was sweet. But then things changed and my life pulled a total one-eighty. My mother started to feel sick, and while at first we all thought it was nothing, she only got worse as time went on. And then on a fateful trip to the doctor she received the news that began this journey.
Cancer.
The one word that feels like a knife being jammed into my heart every time I hear it spoken. The doctors had no idea how she had gone for so long without ever being diagnosed before that day. It was already so advanced that they told her no treatment could help, it would only sightly delay the inevitable. I still remember that day like it was only yesterday. February 6th, 2001. They gave her two to three months, four at the most before it would all be over. She was a fighter though, my mom. She looked that doctor in the eye and said "to hell with that, I'll go when I'm good and ready." And she did. March 3rd, 2002 she died, just shy of thirteen months after she was diagnosed. That day was the worst of my life, and the weeks that followed only made it worse. No relatives were around to take me in so the state decided to put me into foster care. And apparently not just any foster parents take in kids when they reach that age, because in the six homes I was placed in, I was subjected to watching how the scum of the earth operated. Drug addicts, alcoholics, wife beaters and the people that only take in orphans so they could collect money from the state to live a life without working. They never cared for us kids, we were just their way of making an easy buck. We hardly ate, and when we did, it was always some greasy crap that smelled like dog food. Our clothes and sneakers were always hand me downs from the kids before us and they hardly ever fit right. And I had to put up with it all for four long, agonizing years until I turned eighteen and left on my own.
But for as much as I despise the people that I lived with, as much I wish I could go back to those homes and make those people feel sorry for what I was subjected to, I wouldn't be where I am today without them. And I sure as hell wouldn't be the person that I am now. My past is why I choose to be straightedge. I choose to abstain from the things so many enjoy because I have seen their true effects. And before you all rant about how it seems like I'm preaching to you, know that I'm not here to convert any of you to straightedge, I'm just simply informing you before you make your own judgment. So mock me. Call me a nerd. Call me an emo. Call me whatever you will, but your words will never hurt me because I know that only what I think of myself matters.
- - - - - - - - - -
Thursday April 28th, 2011
So is it El Matador..or Pulse II?
Those words are heard spoken as the scene begins. Travis Warner is standing in front of a brick wall, nonchalantly leaning up against it as he munches on a bag of barbecue potato chips. He's dressed rather plainly in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, which has sXe crudely written out in black tape on the front.
Not that it honestly matters, I mean this isn't like Clark Kent pulling off the glasses and becoming Superman. El Matador changing his name to Pulse II and putting on some shiny metal pants doesn't mean he's become an unstoppable force, it just means it's El Matador...in shiny metal pants. Changing your name doesn't mean it changes who you really are Pulse, and it doesn't make people forget about your miserable record either. And if you think I'm joking, then I suggest you look to the Washington Nationals for proof.
Warner pauses for a moment to munch on a few more chips. He motions to someone off camera and a bottle of cherry Coke is tossed to him.
But of course what do I know? I may have spent the last five years wrestling in abandoned warehouses in Jersey and barns out in rural Nebraska for a few hundred die hard fans, but here I'm just another newbie. I've seen and wrestled every type of wrestler out there, from hillbilly farmers to street thugs to even a guy in a dress...
Warner shudders as thought pops back into his head.
The point though, is that I've seen so many different people come and so many people go in this business, and guys like you are usually the quickest to be the latter. Do you really believe that you are better than your one and four record? Because I don't. In fact, if it hadn't been for Mark Markman feeling some pity for you and throwing you Curtis Jones, you wouldn't even have that one win. I look at everyone in WCF, from top to bottom, and matched up against anyone of them would result in a loss for you. And that includes me, the newb.
A bit of a smile crosses Warner's face before the serious look comes back.
I'll leave it at that Pulse, because in all honesty talk is cheap. I let what I do in the ring speak for myself, and this Monday night on Slam I'm going to make sure you and everyone else gets an earful.
Warner raises his arms up in an X over his head and then walks off camera as the scene ends.
