& isnt life just beeyooteefool

Friday, October 21

wow, more tennis.

uhuh. today's tennis however would probably be counted as much more constructive. except i feel bad practicing serving when chanyi, yuechin & jayne were there. and volleying. & all that. & i am thoroughly confused by what exactly the coach thinks, thus shall not ask but be thick-skinned and go again on tuesday for... more trying out?!

my mum seems more enthu in me joining table tennis, no idea why. i mean i have a nice tennis racquet and the lessons in tennis were so much more expensive i really don't see why. and i simply LIKE tennis more, its so much more interesting than just running around a table.

i have also developed and matured a sock line, sleeve line, and short line. WOOT! in case you're wondering, i'm referring to the suntanning one receives from playing tennis @ noontime. its wonderful, tans are LURVE. as i said, WHO CARES ABOUT SKIN CANCER. my mum was quite disapproving when she saw my reddish cheeks and my slightly darker skin. but ahh well.

smp DARGH so annoying made me run up and down and into science staff room goodness knows how many times. and i still didnt find tanboonhian. sandytan is really nice though she didnt mind late admissions! and i kinduf really want to do smp kuz i can't do hssrp or any of the other thingums.

sometimes i feel insecure, like im doing a lot of things wrong. like i don't have anything im particularly good at. like i destroy what i've been painfully building up so far, only to start again because thats the only space i have and the only way to go further is up, until it crashes down again. like someone is watching from far and mocking everything i do.

right. i told myself never to blog about things like that. shall stop now.

read rudyard kipling's if again, the poem everyone knows. he puts too many expectations that are way too harsh on people, i don't know anybody who can fulfil more than two of those requirements. but here are some lines i think are the most beautiful things that can be found in any soul.

If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

i was green-ed at 9:20 pm