I’ll always try to give everyone a fair chance when I first meet them. I assume the “generic”, kind personality, which is primarily used to make the person comfortable and open, enough to feel them out.

Unfortunately, some people mistake this as friendliness, when I really couldn’t give a shit about them. All I’m trying to do is find out more about their personalities and their lives because that’s what I’m always interested in. It’s usually the people who are socially disadvantaged who misinterpret this, and believe that I’m interested in friendship.

Usually when I sense something I don’t like about someone (which happens more often than not) I’ll distance myself from them and turn cold. This generally means I have no further interest in associating with them. I’ll never initiate conversation with them, never state my opinion around them, never show emotion to them. Most can sense this and step back, possibly subconsciously, and easily because most haven’t invested anything in the relationship.

However, sometimes someone won’t get the idea and cling to the initial misinterpretation. In these cases, I’m left with someone who thinks I’m his or her friend. They’ll open up, tell me things, put their trust in me, when I don’t care (when I sense something I dislike, I lose all interest).

I’ve always wondered if it’s just me being an asshole by wearing a kind personality simply to satisfy my curiosity, or whether it’s the fault of others for misinterpreting my expressions and actions. In the past I’ve always blamed myself and felt bad when someone finds out that I’m not their friend, but I’m beginning to blame others. I’ve run into a few socially retarded people who just don’t understand anything about the dynamic set of social rules surrounding them. I know now in some cases that it’s not my fault.

But this fact doesn’t alleviate the situations.

Apparently, my new laptop is scheduled for delivery on Monday. I was hoping for Friday so I’d have the weekend to work on it, but I’m generally only busy on the weekends so it doesn’t make too much difference. Cristina’s having a birthday party at the Honest Lawyer on Saturday, which works out perfectly because practice on Sundays are usually mid-afternoon. After the Halloween party last Friday, I was too hung over to attend the Saturday practice. I’ve been considering entering a team in the newly formed city league, but I would probably need a fourth and I’d rather not socialize with the available people.

I’ve been told that Viagra commercials are no longer funny once the instructions are found on one’s kitchen table back home.

It always interests me to learn how some people are changed so suddenly in their lives. An incident, whether it’s retirement, graduation, death, or anything of such a magnitude, cause some to have new revelations or epiphanies. The fact that it takes something as drastic as these situations to affect some people seems seems a little odd to me.

Do these people not think at all in their daily lives? Do they go through one day to the next without looking at the big picture, without seeing some sort of perspective?

I think I’m generally unaffected by such extreme events because of the fact that I try to find meaning in almost everything I experience (risking pretension). It ends up being that something like the loss of a favorite shirt can affect me as much as failing an entire university course. I feel as if I learn enough about myself from both events. As a result of this, I sometimes change on a day to day basis, although it’s generally on a miniscule level and takes a while before it all builds up into anything noticeable.

Of course, this also means that very little ends up surprising me. I’m rarely shocked by anything, and often feel like my emotions have been leveled off, perhaps numb or simply accustomed to change. I don’t get drastically affected anymore, and in turn, can think and act clearly according to my set of logic. The only thing that ends up overcoming my cerebrality is hate.

And love.

At the club yesterday there was a woman who must have been in her seventies, who played a fairly fast (though unbalanced) game. She liked to talk some shit against my lucky shots, which was pretty funny, cause otherwise she’s a sweet old lady with a slight British accent. I was also matched up against Barry, a paraplegic who was kicking my ass in his wheelchair, after having played two hours of wheelchair tennis. He plays much faster and more aggressively than me, and can place his shots with amazing precision. It’s really helping me work on my forehand to backhand returns.

I’m getting my abs back, especially the obliques. My right arm is roughly an inch bigger than the left now. I’m thinking that it’s all the weight transfer that needs to be done when smashing, especially against Dan. He’s like an artist on the court, aware of all variables involved in a single hit, able to make the ball do whatever he wants. It’s a pleasure to watch him play.