I love tables

“I love tables.”A child remarked to me. I thought about it. Why would anyone love tables? There is nothing exceptional about tables. Tables are a dumping ground for us. We are able to place whatever we can’t hold in our own hands on tables. Tables create a space for what we are unprepared to deal with at the present moment. Tables are a place we can store our problems, our unresolved issues, our bills. Tables are also a connector. A connector of people. A device that enables meetings, dinners, lunches, breakfasts, classes, and all. If we didn’t have tables minds wouldn’t connect. Jokes wouldn’t be told. Recipes wouldn’t be consumed. Forks, knifes, spoons, and plates wouldn’t be needed. Our elbows would be sore from a lack of rest. And we wouldn’t be able to use our elbows for sports, for driving or for elbowing people who are in the wrong. So come to think of it tables are essential. And beneficial. And we should give an ode to tables every now and again.

Tennis isn’t about serves, volleys, ground strokes, overheads, or drop shots. Tennis is a game of pursuit and revenge. Tennis is about fighting for your life. About playing a match for the purpose of garnering the respect of your captain. About playing a match for a coveted spot in playoffs. About berating yourself for errors. About holding back scathing comments to your partner because you know they will cringe. And because you know that if you do berate your partner you will be the talk of the town. Everyone will remember you as the one who was rude to partner. Tennis is about blasting the ball even though you know it might whop your opponent. Tennis is about moral challenges. About always being tempted to call the ball out even though it was in because it is a critical point in the match. It is a moral test to see who will make honorable calls and who will fold and cheat. Tennis is about how much you want to win. Are you willing to make an injured person run around because you know that will win you a point? Or do you feel empathy for the presence of a brace and hit the ball directly to the person? Do you feel pity for a pregnant women and hit them slow paced balls? Or do you hit your normal fast paced shots? Do you deceive others and lie about your playing ability so that you can play at a lower level and automatically win? Do you spend hours on the internet trying to get other’s disqualified? Do you offer money to people for the purpose of acquiring them for your team? Do let a guy beat you because you know they will feel demoralized if they lose to a girl? Tennis is more than just an athletic skill it’s a moral tribute. Moral judgment in tennis is more than just an athletic skill it’s a moral tribute. Moral judgment in tennis is more challenging than moral judgment in the Supreme Court.

Faux engagement ring

Faux engagement ring. I thought she was wearing an engagement ring. I groaned inwardly. Was every young-in tying the knot? Then I congratulated her. She then informed me that it was sapphire ring. A beauty ring. An aesthetic ring. She reassured me that many people mistakenly thought she was engaged. She realized that it was probably not the best move for her to wear the ring out. That would repel the men. She said maybe that is the reason why my love life is so dull. I said that maybe some guys would be more attracted to her. But then, what kind of jerks are they if they beckon an engaged women? It is strange because one time I was in a setting where everyone was engaged and I thought of buying a faux engagement ring. One that resembled hers. Just to fit in. I guess the same mistake can help or hurt you

Parting of ways

This week has been a series of jambles and ironies. I came face with the harsh reality that sometimes life can unearth you.

Tennis is my passion and my job. Tennis is my life. I joined this group to meet people not involved in tennis and I’m glad I did. If I stuck solely to tennis I think I would burst. This week I learned that amateur tennis is about betrayal, cruelty, and infidelity.

I had assisted her in many ways. I scouted, researched, and recruited. I even hacked into websites to access information and in return she decided to bench me. I burn with rage and fury. She opted to exclude me from playing despite the fact that had already clinched a playoff berth. I voyaged to practices in a blizzard because she was desperate. I take flack for being her friend. I was willing to butter up a guy I had no interest in for the sole purpose of snaring him for the team. She neglected me and humiliated me. I guess favors are not always reciprocated. She shut me out of playing the championships even though she knows that this event is something I live for. I think our “relationship” is over. It is a very hard fact for me to grasp. She meant the world to me. She made me feel worthy and valued when on one else did. My ability to gather information was invaluable to her. She was my confidante and she encouraged me to write. And just to clarify she is just my tennis captain. I’m so disheartened and saddened by her actions. I wish things were different but they aren’t. Should I pay a tribute to her or deliver a eulogy of us. I guess now I can tell her story in print and not worry about her feelings if her life is broadcasted. I guess the other reason I have been simmering with rage for her is that she belittled him. She knew I harbored tender feelings for him yet she found it appropriate to bemoan him. He wants to just vanish. I want to writer her a letter detailing my feelings. But I know she will respond by staging a relentless personal attack on me. She has done it before. And I don’t need hear it I contemplated engineering a coup against her. But I’m afraid no one would follow me and everyone would remained glued to her. They are all so brainwashed. My stomach flip flops when I read emails attesting that she is such a great captain. I sometimes ponder whether I should enlighten the person with the truth.

The truth is that this is a case of I told you so. I should have known that one day she would scathe me. I had been warned about her. She is the like the guy who is a heartbreaker. The guy who is a womanizer. That seems so tempting and so alluring Yet everyone tells you is a fuck up. But at the moment you can’t discern that fact. I don’t know whether I should destroy the make up that she gave me burn the many gifts that she bestowed on me. Somehow the gifts are symbolic of a betch I need to let go of even though I dread letting go.