Honesty Hour
Nov 25, 2016 19:03:29 GMT -5
Post by Savannah Taylor on Nov 25, 2016 19:03:29 GMT -5
Thursday, November 24th, 20116
Kingston, Rhode Island
ON CAMERA
A lack of brilliance of vitality. Lacking liveliness, vitality, spirit or enthusiasm.
(The sound of a book closing and being deposited onto a wooden surfaces echoes throughout the room. Coming into focus is the familiar face of one Savannah Taylor. Seated in a simple black office-type chair, she clears her throat as she sits back in her chair, making a little motion to the book she dropped onto the desk.)
That is what the good folks at Merriam Webster classify the definition of the word lackluster. Lackluster isn’t the kindest of terms. Lackluster is not something one wants to hear very often, if at all. It’s a slap in the face. It cuts to the core. In short…..it hurts to hear it, especially if someone was used to a glowing report of everything they have done in their career.
It’s more of a wakeup call.
Look, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything thus far is all sunshine and roses. It is the farthest thing from that, actually. I’m woman enough to admit that I’ve fucked up more than once. I’ve not risen to my fullest potential. It’s like those comments you got on your report cards back in elementary school. Instead of letter grades, you’d get marks like ‘Above Satisfactory’ ‘Satisfactory’ or ‘Needs Improvement.’ I know enough to know that the recent outings have warranted several ‘Needs Improvement’ marks. This would be the time in the narrative where I would come out and proclaim the bad days to be over and how I was going to flip the script and become a new, better version of myself.
(Savannah pauses for a second as she runs a hand through her hair.)
Truth be told, I’m not really in the right state of mind to be making those types of claims. I know I should be and I know no one can do it but me, but there are some things that happen that are out of our control. Some things that happen that, and this is me being completely and utterly honest, have left me questioning my place in this business. It’s left me wondering if I have that same drive and same fire that I had when I started down this long and winding road. It’ll be a while before I’m anywhere close to being myself, but I have a job to do this Saturday and I have to focus, because given who I’m facing…...I’d rather eat my hat that lose to.
Sup, bro?
s Let me just get this right out of the way. I don’t hate you, Dan. I don’t exactly like you, but I don’t outright hate you. Now before you sit back in your Lay-Z-Boy for your afternoon nap and go off on a harangue about ‘But Savannah, I’ve never done a thing to you. We’ve barely even spoken,’ let me jog your memory. I want you to think back a couple of years to a specific date. The date was February tenth, two thousand fourteen. That date, you were a guest out in what I now not-so-lovingly call Hotel California. You were set to face off against a woman who I hold in the highest regard. I personally was excited to see this match. I knew how good Angela was, and I had heard rumors about your own in ring prowess. I wanted to see the man in person. I wanted to see if the hype was warranted. When the show day happened, I stood backstage and wanted to see you for myself. Hell, at the time I was relatively new to the business and I followed the time honored custom of the newer people introducing themselves to their veteran peers. But as I approached to make my introduction, I noticed something. I noticed the look of almost contempt etched on your face. Not only did I notice that look on your face, but I noticed something else, something that has stuck with me to this very day.
You walked right on past me. Such a dick move, Dan. REAL dick move.
(She reaches off to the other side of the desk and grabs a clear plastic bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, she takes a long swig before setting the bottle down next to the dictionary.)
Now, in hindsight, I don’t blame you one iota for looking the way you did. At the time though, it rubbed me the wrong way. You have no idea how much I loved watching you get your shiny head handed to you on a silver platter. In my mind, you got what you deserved. Fast forward two years and we are now coworkers. Isn’t it funny how things work out? The anger and near resentment I had two years ago has subsided into pretty much ambivalence. I neither hate nor do I like you. But you can bet your ass that I will move heaven and earth to make sure you are the one taking the L on Saturday, not the other way around. I guess when you think about it enough, our careers here in FGA aren’t all that different. Sure, you may have the the edge when it comes to victories and titles, but we are more alike than you think. I mean, I’m the one who is known for failing to beat certain people and failing to ascend to the next level. And you? You will forever be known as Cordy Stevenson’s bitch. Oh, oh what’s that? Did I hit a nerve? Did I get on a sore subject? Like I give a rat’s ass right now. At the end of the day, you are going to be forever known as the guy who is living in the shadow of his tag team partner. You are always going to be known as the guy who couldn’t get the job done as a singles wrestler so you stuck to tag team wrestling. In short, you stuck to hanging on the apron while your partners did all the work. How else do you explain Status Quo’s success? It sure as hell wasn’t from you. You sat back, let Cordy do the heavy lifting and then stole the spotlight when you guys won. But it’s okay, Dan. I get it. Some people are just better at being the decoy than others. At least you have FINALLY learned your place. Let me offer up one more little nugget of information for you. Much like your tag team partner and VERY much UNLIKE you, I know what it’s like to taste World Championship gold. But hey....
(She takes the bottle and raises it up to her lips, raising her pinkie finger in the air for added effect.)
I know I’m the last person to preach to anyone about failing. I know I am the last one to be knocking anyone about how much they choke or how lackluster their performances have been. But come on now. You make it so freaking EASY. It’s so easy that even a Stormtrooper couldn’t miss. But in all seriousness, there is a more noteworthy example of how you’ve failed the wrestling industry. There is one example that can not and SHOULD not be ignored, and I think you know where I’m going with this. Your biggest example of wrestling failure can be summed up in three simple letters……..G….D…..W.
How can someone who appears to be SO smart and SO business minded fuck up so miserably? When you were GDW owner, you put out a product that people loved, that people wanted to see week in and week out. You were on top of the wrestling world, with loyal fans and an equally loyal roster. But then what happened? You got bored and decided to take your ball and go home. What happened next can only be described by using the word cluster in it. You allowed a revolving door of leadership to filter through, starting with Meagan Collins and running through the circus gambit. From what I was able to gather, Meagan wasn’t fit to rule a book club, much less a wrestling company. From Meagan Collins to anyone with the last name of Jones to even a Braddock or two if I’m not mistaken, you sure did let the quality of your pride and joy slip, didn’t you? But like a triumphant warrior coming home from battle, you returned to save the day! Suddenly with you back at the helm, the ship would be put back on course and all would be right with the world. Except, you WEREN’T alone, were you. At your side was your co owner, who was the worst out of anyone after you left. You ran the company with a woman who is a prime example of the broken justice system in this country. If you knew then what that...that woman was truly capable of, then you would have put the kibosh on that one ASAP. But you still allowed Brianna a position of power, and there is where the Titanic hit the iceberg. I don’t know the details surrounding the closure of your once beloved company, but I do know that you are to blame for everything that happened. If I wanted to know details, I could always call Angela and get the story from her. If it didn’t have the potential to be awkward as hell, I could always visit Detroit and ask Andreas, but I’m not going to do that, and not just because Andreas intimidates the shit out of me.
There is a line from the Bob Dylan song ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ that sticks with me….when you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. Look at me, Dan. I’m a woman who has lost more than she has won. I’m a woman who is about as emotionally low as you can get. But for some reason other than the grace of God….I’m still standing. I’m still standing and I’m more than ready for you this week. I’m not going to be quite the person that you saw drag herself through hell against Magnus Gunner…..but I can come damn close to it against you. See you Saturday…..bro.
(With that, the scene clicks off and fades to black.)
Kingston, Rhode Island
ON CAMERA
A lack of brilliance of vitality. Lacking liveliness, vitality, spirit or enthusiasm.
(The sound of a book closing and being deposited onto a wooden surfaces echoes throughout the room. Coming into focus is the familiar face of one Savannah Taylor. Seated in a simple black office-type chair, she clears her throat as she sits back in her chair, making a little motion to the book she dropped onto the desk.)
That is what the good folks at Merriam Webster classify the definition of the word lackluster. Lackluster isn’t the kindest of terms. Lackluster is not something one wants to hear very often, if at all. It’s a slap in the face. It cuts to the core. In short…..it hurts to hear it, especially if someone was used to a glowing report of everything they have done in their career.
It’s more of a wakeup call.
Look, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything thus far is all sunshine and roses. It is the farthest thing from that, actually. I’m woman enough to admit that I’ve fucked up more than once. I’ve not risen to my fullest potential. It’s like those comments you got on your report cards back in elementary school. Instead of letter grades, you’d get marks like ‘Above Satisfactory’ ‘Satisfactory’ or ‘Needs Improvement.’ I know enough to know that the recent outings have warranted several ‘Needs Improvement’ marks. This would be the time in the narrative where I would come out and proclaim the bad days to be over and how I was going to flip the script and become a new, better version of myself.
(Savannah pauses for a second as she runs a hand through her hair.)
Truth be told, I’m not really in the right state of mind to be making those types of claims. I know I should be and I know no one can do it but me, but there are some things that happen that are out of our control. Some things that happen that, and this is me being completely and utterly honest, have left me questioning my place in this business. It’s left me wondering if I have that same drive and same fire that I had when I started down this long and winding road. It’ll be a while before I’m anywhere close to being myself, but I have a job to do this Saturday and I have to focus, because given who I’m facing…...I’d rather eat my hat that lose to.
Sup, bro?
s Let me just get this right out of the way. I don’t hate you, Dan. I don’t exactly like you, but I don’t outright hate you. Now before you sit back in your Lay-Z-Boy for your afternoon nap and go off on a harangue about ‘But Savannah, I’ve never done a thing to you. We’ve barely even spoken,’ let me jog your memory. I want you to think back a couple of years to a specific date. The date was February tenth, two thousand fourteen. That date, you were a guest out in what I now not-so-lovingly call Hotel California. You were set to face off against a woman who I hold in the highest regard. I personally was excited to see this match. I knew how good Angela was, and I had heard rumors about your own in ring prowess. I wanted to see the man in person. I wanted to see if the hype was warranted. When the show day happened, I stood backstage and wanted to see you for myself. Hell, at the time I was relatively new to the business and I followed the time honored custom of the newer people introducing themselves to their veteran peers. But as I approached to make my introduction, I noticed something. I noticed the look of almost contempt etched on your face. Not only did I notice that look on your face, but I noticed something else, something that has stuck with me to this very day.
You walked right on past me. Such a dick move, Dan. REAL dick move.
(She reaches off to the other side of the desk and grabs a clear plastic bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, she takes a long swig before setting the bottle down next to the dictionary.)
Now, in hindsight, I don’t blame you one iota for looking the way you did. At the time though, it rubbed me the wrong way. You have no idea how much I loved watching you get your shiny head handed to you on a silver platter. In my mind, you got what you deserved. Fast forward two years and we are now coworkers. Isn’t it funny how things work out? The anger and near resentment I had two years ago has subsided into pretty much ambivalence. I neither hate nor do I like you. But you can bet your ass that I will move heaven and earth to make sure you are the one taking the L on Saturday, not the other way around. I guess when you think about it enough, our careers here in FGA aren’t all that different. Sure, you may have the the edge when it comes to victories and titles, but we are more alike than you think. I mean, I’m the one who is known for failing to beat certain people and failing to ascend to the next level. And you? You will forever be known as Cordy Stevenson’s bitch. Oh, oh what’s that? Did I hit a nerve? Did I get on a sore subject? Like I give a rat’s ass right now. At the end of the day, you are going to be forever known as the guy who is living in the shadow of his tag team partner. You are always going to be known as the guy who couldn’t get the job done as a singles wrestler so you stuck to tag team wrestling. In short, you stuck to hanging on the apron while your partners did all the work. How else do you explain Status Quo’s success? It sure as hell wasn’t from you. You sat back, let Cordy do the heavy lifting and then stole the spotlight when you guys won. But it’s okay, Dan. I get it. Some people are just better at being the decoy than others. At least you have FINALLY learned your place. Let me offer up one more little nugget of information for you. Much like your tag team partner and VERY much UNLIKE you, I know what it’s like to taste World Championship gold. But hey....
(She takes the bottle and raises it up to her lips, raising her pinkie finger in the air for added effect.)
I know I’m the last person to preach to anyone about failing. I know I am the last one to be knocking anyone about how much they choke or how lackluster their performances have been. But come on now. You make it so freaking EASY. It’s so easy that even a Stormtrooper couldn’t miss. But in all seriousness, there is a more noteworthy example of how you’ve failed the wrestling industry. There is one example that can not and SHOULD not be ignored, and I think you know where I’m going with this. Your biggest example of wrestling failure can be summed up in three simple letters……..G….D…..W.
How can someone who appears to be SO smart and SO business minded fuck up so miserably? When you were GDW owner, you put out a product that people loved, that people wanted to see week in and week out. You were on top of the wrestling world, with loyal fans and an equally loyal roster. But then what happened? You got bored and decided to take your ball and go home. What happened next can only be described by using the word cluster in it. You allowed a revolving door of leadership to filter through, starting with Meagan Collins and running through the circus gambit. From what I was able to gather, Meagan wasn’t fit to rule a book club, much less a wrestling company. From Meagan Collins to anyone with the last name of Jones to even a Braddock or two if I’m not mistaken, you sure did let the quality of your pride and joy slip, didn’t you? But like a triumphant warrior coming home from battle, you returned to save the day! Suddenly with you back at the helm, the ship would be put back on course and all would be right with the world. Except, you WEREN’T alone, were you. At your side was your co owner, who was the worst out of anyone after you left. You ran the company with a woman who is a prime example of the broken justice system in this country. If you knew then what that...that woman was truly capable of, then you would have put the kibosh on that one ASAP. But you still allowed Brianna a position of power, and there is where the Titanic hit the iceberg. I don’t know the details surrounding the closure of your once beloved company, but I do know that you are to blame for everything that happened. If I wanted to know details, I could always call Angela and get the story from her. If it didn’t have the potential to be awkward as hell, I could always visit Detroit and ask Andreas, but I’m not going to do that, and not just because Andreas intimidates the shit out of me.
There is a line from the Bob Dylan song ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ that sticks with me….when you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. Look at me, Dan. I’m a woman who has lost more than she has won. I’m a woman who is about as emotionally low as you can get. But for some reason other than the grace of God….I’m still standing. I’m still standing and I’m more than ready for you this week. I’m not going to be quite the person that you saw drag herself through hell against Magnus Gunner…..but I can come damn close to it against you. See you Saturday…..bro.
(With that, the scene clicks off and fades to black.)