Grrrr.
Life is simply impossible at times...or maybe it's just that the emotional wave on my biorhythm has plunged down at the moment. I don't know whether these weird pseudoscience things actually have any basis, but it gives me a good excuse to blame everything on.
Or maybe it's just my own mental homeostatic reaction: after a prolonged period of happiness, then a prolonged period of gloom and destructivity. I find I tend to sink into these phases every two or three days after any particularly enjoyable occasion: church camps and holidays are an example. Birthdays also. One of the better examples would be after the post-SPM prom night.
I don't know. All I can say is that I'm suddenly over-reacting to everything. And yes, I know I'm over-reacting. I just don't notice it until, I don't know, until after I've over-reacted or something. Like yesterday during captain's-ball.
Well, I play the game less for exercise than for the opportunity to chitchat a little: D-Kun and his brother happen to be excellent conversationalists, though only separately. I find it quite difficult to talk to brothers simultaneously, simply because they have so many things that only they know, so when one of those things comes up, I'm totally left out.
Still, most of the time, the conversation is intelligible to me. Claus also provides a certain amount of amusement, because he and I are very nearly polar opposites. But I shouldn't talk too much here in case they don't like having their personalities dissected for the whole world to see: and besides, it's better this way for all concerned. They don't get any reason to be offended and I don't get any reason to go into hiding.
So back to the main story. The game was ruined for me the moment I arrived and saw a bunch of people from Face climbing out of their cars. Well, not ruined. More spoilt, because the game still went on, just not at maximum enjoyability. Those Face people have far too much physical skill (I've never had the opportunity to engage them in conversation apart from asking their names: normal juvenile human males apparently don't like talking while a ball is moving) for people like me (i.e. people with absolutely nothing even resembling hand-eye coordination) to play against.
This wouldn't have been too bad, except I was supposed to try to block their shots by jumping at the ball when they threw it. Well, I'm not stupid. I know what I jump like, and it's not even fair to call it jumping. More like tiptoeing and reaching up. And I know what they throw the ball like: hard enough to dent anything in the way, and high enough that a human-sized flea would have trouble even getting close enough to touch it.
I am most certainly not a human flea, and I didn't (at the time) have enough emotional energy to summon up an adrenaline rush every time I saw the ball get within striking range. Plus I've always been worried of whacking the guy behind me if I jump: it's the old hand-eye-non-coordination thing again. When I'm in unsupported air, the system goes haywire and my limbs shoot out in odd configurations, usually leading to minor injuries and suchlike. And this is why I didn't jump at all except when I was sure the ball was block-able.
Claus, who is a sportsman (I loathe the word) to the core, didn't seem to realise that pitting a geekling (albeit one with coloured hair) against people who've played basketball and netball and volleyball and goodness-knows-what-other-balls for years is very unfair, and wondered why I didn't jump. I didn't bother to correct him because, as I said, I was completely drained in emotional energy at the moment just from trying to keep a fake smile pasted on, which is a bit difficult when you know you're the main reason your side is losing and you know your side would probably enjoy the game a lot more without you in the way.
So... anyway, it wasn't long before Claus got fed up and started pulling fancy and completely unneccessary basketball-star moves on me just to prove that his hands move faster than my eye can follow. It also wasn't long before I got fed up and threw the ball at his head while he wasn't looking. It was just a pity he had to turn his head at the last moment (I think someone shouted to him to look out) so the ball whacked him in the side of the head (ear, eye and cheek) instead of bouncing harmlessly off the back: I'm not so vain as to think that anything I throw could possibly cause fatal impact.
Fortunately, I think they put it down to my butterfingers and I'm still alive... though, of course, if he reads this I won't remain so for long. You might not think it's much of a show of temper, but in my estimation, the progression goes from dirty looks to verbal abuse to physical attacks, with the last being the worst. I usually manage to stop myself by stage two.
By now, I expect you know something good happened on Saturday night to cause a rotten Sunday evening. It did: Stapler had her birthday party, and I was there.
Her birthday is, technically, on Sunday: but since nobody is free on Sunday afternoon (I postulate that they are at home sleeping off hangovers or late nights out or something else), we decided to have it on Saturday night when everybody would be free. We also decided to make it a surprise, which turned out to be crueler than we'd planned at first.
You see, Stapler is from Patience, like myself (although this fact has nothing whatsoever to do with the next one); and whatever she may be, she is most definitely emotional. Very attached to her friends, superbly loyal, you know the sort. And once we said surprise, both her best friends had to do all the planning: buying gifts, arranging venue and time and all that, and of course they couldn't tell her a word of it; so in the end they both spun long yarns about having other more important things to do. I think one of them suddenly developed a sick mother and the other had to go far away on some family trip or other.
Stapler was, in her own (paraphrased) words, crying buckets of floods all Friday and Saturday. And what would you expect, she being (apparently) all alone in the place? I think she developed a bit of a persecution complex, and she was apparently having a little pity party when we sent somebody over to pick her up.
It threw a bit of a kink into our plans when we realised she just might get a little bit angry about being played like a fool, but our fears were unfounded and we had a very nice time after she got over the incoherently happy burbles. For one thing, the cake they ordered was far too large for eight people (of which five were girls), so I had two very large slices.
For another, the restaurant we went to happens to serve hot chocolate in a rather cute little pot with a miniature glass that reminds me of those 15-ml beakers in the Chemistry labs. The chocolate was rather dilute and tasteless, however: but the cake was creamy enough to offset that. (Plus it was a chocolate cake too.)
Plus Cheeky told me at the party that he's finally managed to get me a few new songs for my mp3... the Anime Themes folder is sadly languishing. Of course, I haven't got any Disney songs yet, but that's only because I don't think anybody would bother to convert Disney tunes to .mp3 format.
It was a nice party, mostly because it's the first time I've ever put on a really successful surprise party. It's also because that's how I think life usually is: everything always seems dreary at times, but hopefully, maybe, one day Somebody will pop out, yell "Surprise!" and then a party will begin.
I refer, of course, to heaven. As far as I'm concerned, that will be the ultimate party. And without fancy basketball-star moves!
Or maybe it's just my own mental homeostatic reaction: after a prolonged period of happiness, then a prolonged period of gloom and destructivity. I find I tend to sink into these phases every two or three days after any particularly enjoyable occasion: church camps and holidays are an example. Birthdays also. One of the better examples would be after the post-SPM prom night.
I don't know. All I can say is that I'm suddenly over-reacting to everything. And yes, I know I'm over-reacting. I just don't notice it until, I don't know, until after I've over-reacted or something. Like yesterday during captain's-ball.
Well, I play the game less for exercise than for the opportunity to chitchat a little: D-Kun and his brother happen to be excellent conversationalists, though only separately. I find it quite difficult to talk to brothers simultaneously, simply because they have so many things that only they know, so when one of those things comes up, I'm totally left out.
Still, most of the time, the conversation is intelligible to me. Claus also provides a certain amount of amusement, because he and I are very nearly polar opposites. But I shouldn't talk too much here in case they don't like having their personalities dissected for the whole world to see: and besides, it's better this way for all concerned. They don't get any reason to be offended and I don't get any reason to go into hiding.
So back to the main story. The game was ruined for me the moment I arrived and saw a bunch of people from Face climbing out of their cars. Well, not ruined. More spoilt, because the game still went on, just not at maximum enjoyability. Those Face people have far too much physical skill (I've never had the opportunity to engage them in conversation apart from asking their names: normal juvenile human males apparently don't like talking while a ball is moving) for people like me (i.e. people with absolutely nothing even resembling hand-eye coordination) to play against.
This wouldn't have been too bad, except I was supposed to try to block their shots by jumping at the ball when they threw it. Well, I'm not stupid. I know what I jump like, and it's not even fair to call it jumping. More like tiptoeing and reaching up. And I know what they throw the ball like: hard enough to dent anything in the way, and high enough that a human-sized flea would have trouble even getting close enough to touch it.
I am most certainly not a human flea, and I didn't (at the time) have enough emotional energy to summon up an adrenaline rush every time I saw the ball get within striking range. Plus I've always been worried of whacking the guy behind me if I jump: it's the old hand-eye-non-coordination thing again. When I'm in unsupported air, the system goes haywire and my limbs shoot out in odd configurations, usually leading to minor injuries and suchlike. And this is why I didn't jump at all except when I was sure the ball was block-able.
Claus, who is a sportsman (I loathe the word) to the core, didn't seem to realise that pitting a geekling (albeit one with coloured hair) against people who've played basketball and netball and volleyball and goodness-knows-what-other-balls for years is very unfair, and wondered why I didn't jump. I didn't bother to correct him because, as I said, I was completely drained in emotional energy at the moment just from trying to keep a fake smile pasted on, which is a bit difficult when you know you're the main reason your side is losing and you know your side would probably enjoy the game a lot more without you in the way.
So... anyway, it wasn't long before Claus got fed up and started pulling fancy and completely unneccessary basketball-star moves on me just to prove that his hands move faster than my eye can follow. It also wasn't long before I got fed up and threw the ball at his head while he wasn't looking. It was just a pity he had to turn his head at the last moment (I think someone shouted to him to look out) so the ball whacked him in the side of the head (ear, eye and cheek) instead of bouncing harmlessly off the back: I'm not so vain as to think that anything I throw could possibly cause fatal impact.
Fortunately, I think they put it down to my butterfingers and I'm still alive... though, of course, if he reads this I won't remain so for long. You might not think it's much of a show of temper, but in my estimation, the progression goes from dirty looks to verbal abuse to physical attacks, with the last being the worst. I usually manage to stop myself by stage two.
By now, I expect you know something good happened on Saturday night to cause a rotten Sunday evening. It did: Stapler had her birthday party, and I was there.
Her birthday is, technically, on Sunday: but since nobody is free on Sunday afternoon (I postulate that they are at home sleeping off hangovers or late nights out or something else), we decided to have it on Saturday night when everybody would be free. We also decided to make it a surprise, which turned out to be crueler than we'd planned at first.
You see, Stapler is from Patience, like myself (although this fact has nothing whatsoever to do with the next one); and whatever she may be, she is most definitely emotional. Very attached to her friends, superbly loyal, you know the sort. And once we said surprise, both her best friends had to do all the planning: buying gifts, arranging venue and time and all that, and of course they couldn't tell her a word of it; so in the end they both spun long yarns about having other more important things to do. I think one of them suddenly developed a sick mother and the other had to go far away on some family trip or other.
Stapler was, in her own (paraphrased) words, crying buckets of floods all Friday and Saturday. And what would you expect, she being (apparently) all alone in the place? I think she developed a bit of a persecution complex, and she was apparently having a little pity party when we sent somebody over to pick her up.
It threw a bit of a kink into our plans when we realised she just might get a little bit angry about being played like a fool, but our fears were unfounded and we had a very nice time after she got over the incoherently happy burbles. For one thing, the cake they ordered was far too large for eight people (of which five were girls), so I had two very large slices.
For another, the restaurant we went to happens to serve hot chocolate in a rather cute little pot with a miniature glass that reminds me of those 15-ml beakers in the Chemistry labs. The chocolate was rather dilute and tasteless, however: but the cake was creamy enough to offset that. (Plus it was a chocolate cake too.)
Plus Cheeky told me at the party that he's finally managed to get me a few new songs for my mp3... the Anime Themes folder is sadly languishing. Of course, I haven't got any Disney songs yet, but that's only because I don't think anybody would bother to convert Disney tunes to .mp3 format.
It was a nice party, mostly because it's the first time I've ever put on a really successful surprise party. It's also because that's how I think life usually is: everything always seems dreary at times, but hopefully, maybe, one day Somebody will pop out, yell "Surprise!" and then a party will begin.
I refer, of course, to heaven. As far as I'm concerned, that will be the ultimate party. And without fancy basketball-star moves!
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