I normally hit my bed at 3 AM on weeknights and 5.30AM on weekends. Somehow, tonight, I think I have to sleep earlier than usual. I’ve just consumed my second mug of coffee to no avail. Words wouldn’t come out of my head, I can’t focus and I’m just very very tired. I’ll hold off writing about nerdy bits of my geeky world until tomorrow.
I have been playing in the past 3 Saturdays with “the other group” due to the fact that Titans hasn’t had it’s Saturday games in 6 weeks now. I’m about as sure that the next Saturday games will be canceled again. I don’t think the group is going to survive, given that in spite of a number of people’s request for games, we haven’t had one in over a month. Also, membership in the games have dwindled in the past four months because (1) there was no website and therefore no way to gather its remaining members in one place, and (2) game schedules have been unpredictable. I have had an experience when I went to The Zone only to find out that the games for that Saturday were canceled. After that experience, I have been forced to text the organizers each time I planned to attend the games. I can’t blame the organizers, of course; making court reservations and providing shuttles for the games are already a stretch on their part. Still, something’s gotta be done if the group is to survive for, say, another year.
I really feel sad about Titans, and it feels worse when people ask if the group still exists or if we’d have Saturday games because they want to play, and I can’t give them a 100% yes. I miss the old days too–the friendship (real and imagined), the chika, the out-of-town trips, the gimmicks, the after-games dinners.
For now, I’m playing Thursdays and holidays at BCMI with the Baddicts group, PowerSmash on most Saturdays, Blu Rackets with Headstrong on Mondays. I just got invited to join two badminton groups, so I’m trying one out this Monday at Powersmash and another, which plays at 9PM onwards on Wednesdays, at The Zone. Let’s see where the next few weeks will take this badminton stuff.
Hmmm…somehow being just an ordinary player allows for more options. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again, somehow.
I don’t think that I can come up with a more obvious description of what it’s like to grow up or be a grown-up aside from an enumeration of the typical things adults are expected to do, such as having a job, paying bills or being in-charge of one’s affairs. But beyond securing one’s physical well-being, maturity is an endless process of reassessing one’s place under the sun and asking a million and one questions whether the choices that one has made have been all worth it.
An article in New York Times points to the role that lost selves–”the person that you could have been”–play in the way personalities are molded, and presents an argument that “ruminating on paths not taken is an emotionally corrosive exercise.” A study by Laura A. King, a psychologist at the University of Missouri, shows that as well-adjusted adults grow older, they tend to incorporate more points of view in recollections of past decisions that were in one way or another caused them regrets.
In essence, looking back at a regretful event in one’s life and recalling not only the loss but, more importantly, also the lessons learned from the experience, is what a mature person usually does. You can cling to a sad event for all the world cares, but at some point, you need to learn a few valuable lessons, like your (and other people’s) role in that event and what you gained from it, and then move forward. You cannot blame yourself forever, too.
This brings to mind one of those movie lines from a rather non-sensical chick-flick: Life does not revolve around your little version of the universe.
That’s how people grow up.
“There is a time in every man’s education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact, makes much impression on him, and another none. This sculpture in the memory is not without preestablished harmony. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents. It may be safely trusted as proportionate and of good issues, so it be faithfully imparted, but God will not have his work made manifest by cowards. A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise, shall give him no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope.”