I played three matches yesterday against three different people and won all three. It felt pretty good, especially since I had never played one of them before (he was a Canadian-born English teacher, working in China). He also started playing about a year before me, and was taught in what’s considered the table tennis country of the world. Knowing that he was using an anti-spin rubber gave me an advantage though; I didn’t have to worry about his spin, and since I focus on speed and placement, his rubber became pointless. I also have less respect for people who use the anti-spin rubbers, because they generally rely on the paddle to do the work for them, instead of properly learning how to counter spin. My habitual nervousness when facing a new opponent wasn’t there.
I also won against one of the people I use to have great difficulty beating. He had a new paddle, with small ball-bearings imbedded along the rim. When one shakes it, the paddle sounds like a baby rattle. Apparently, it’s supposed to prevent reverberation, but I don’t understand the point. I count on feeling reverberation through my handle to give me feedback on where I’m hitting.
I also beat one of my long time opponents, although it’s more of an empty victory because I’ve learned his tricks and styles, so I know how to counter them. I won based on vitallity overcoming his experience, not skill overcoming skill. It was interesting to find out that his paddle has a hollow handle with a weight attached to a screw assembly in it. The weight can be shifted up and down through the handle to change the centre of gravity of the blade.
Still, it’s good to know that I’m improving. I can learn at the table now, in the middle of a match instead of afterwards.
I don’t want to ask, I don’t want to beg. I don’t care if you like it or not.
I just want it loud. I just want it thick. I just want it screaming until my head throbs.
Until my ears are numb.
I just got home from a nice dinner with Aaron, Karen, and Chris. On the bus ride back, there was a woman sitting in front of me, who I couldn’t help but look at. I watched, the entire trip, as she peeled an orange, and threw all the skin and fibre on the floor. Then she would spit seeds into her hand and throw those on the floor too. It was one of the most repulsive things I’ve ever seen. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE.
I just stopped at Timmies before work this morning, with a large triple triple in my hand, and a caramel pecan cookie in the other. I had to maneuver the coffee and cookie around because it was too hot to hold by its sides, and I did this as I was walking out the door. Without thinking, I let the door close behind me. As I step outside, I hear a lady say, “Tanks for ‘olding the door” in a loud, grumpy, sarcastic tone. I usually hold the door open if I see someone behind me, but I was still waking up, I didn’t see her, and my mind was elsewhere. Normally, I would feel terrible for being so inconsiderate, but I really didn’t feel bad at all after she said what she said. I actually wished that the door slammed in her face, spilling her coffee all over her proudly worn blue Magic School Bus shirt, staining it forever, and that she would slump in the door-frame, sobbing, because it was the final gift from the debilitated granddaughter she had just put in the ground. At least what I did was an accident, one that I’m not prone to let happen, but what she said I consider even more rude.
Trolley and I had this discussion a little while ago. We both agree that it’s rude to keep a seat occupied with a bag on a busy bus, but it’s even more rude to walk up to a bagged seat, then complain loudly and rudely about the owner. There are ways of politely doing things that just make things go easier for everyone. Interesting, how the first person to take the step in being polite is the one in control, but few people actually take the risk because they assume an unapologetic person.
Anyway, I need some coffee in me.
So go the fuck away.