August 4th, 2013

happy girl

My natural tongue.

Too tired to write the entry that I wanted to write, so will just say this:

I was at Arnaud's on Friday night (yes, I ditched my essay...ugh). He pulled up some 'learn Mandarin' videos on his iPad, one of which was some Chinese woman teaching us how to say 'so what?' in Mandarin. When I saw the words "那又怎么样", I immediately said, with no filter whatsoever, "No need so long lah."

I did not realise what I said until I said it. I realised what I said a second later; and when I realised what I said, I did not have time to fully wonder if Arnaud had caught it. Half a second after I realised what I said, Arnaud turned and looked at me and, laughing as he said, "You spoke Singlish!"

That was probably the fourth time in London that I let slip some Singlish, but the first time that I said a complete sentence ("sentence") in Singlish. On other occasions, I found myself saying 'lah' without meaning to. On those occasions, too, the person with whom I was conversing did not realise what I said (or if he/she did, he/she did not say anything about it). I half-thought that maybe Arnaud wouldn't catch it too - but he did. And it made sense: he kept trying to get me to say things in Singlish but it was rather difficult because I can't just sprout off in Singlish by myself; and so the times when I have said things in Singlish, I had to make a concerted effort and it just came off rather unnatural.

That moment, though, was pure, authentic, unthinking Singlish. It was pretty incredible. It makes me think that this bloody pidgin is more ingrained in me than I had thought.

On another note, he also pulled up some 'learn French' videos and tried to make me say some French words. I know I said in another entry that I will exploit my current dating situation and try and learn the language that I've wanted to learn for 10 years and that I will get over my barrier thing...but it was so hard. I couldn't stop laughing for maybe 5 minutes. It was just so embarrassing and I tried to cover that up by laughing quite hysterically like an idiot. Eventually, though, I caved, and I went through with it, and it wasn't horrible but it was still weird. Needless to say, I can't remember how to pronounce any of the words that he made me say.

I did, however, make him say the words first, and...yes, him speaking in French is still incredibly sexy.

He asked me how to say 'let's have more sex' in Chinese. I had no fucking clue. I think talking about sex in Chinese is weird to the core. It's a bit like swearing in Chinese - feels wrong, somehow. Just can't do it.

*

I have to sleep. I am massively behind my own deadline for the virtual child pornography essay. The theoretical part is way harder to explain than I had thought. Bleah.
happy girl

Essay, tennis, etc.

My virtual child pornography essay is definitely going to be more than 8,000 words. I have already hit 4,427 words (albeit with way too long footnotes) and I have not even finished explaining the fucking theoretical portion yet. This essay would have been better served as full-length 15,000-word dissertation, but alas, LSE is inflexible and has stupid arbitrary rules.

To think that I was worried that I would have nothing much to say. HA HA HA HA HA. I should have known better; that has never been my experience when it comes to essay-writing.

*

My accommodation is going to inconvenience me sometime over the next two weeks by carrying out maintenance works in my room. I emailed the manager to ask if the works can be carried out after 22 August when I'm done with the essays but he was all, "Nope sorry fuck off." I'm gonna have to clean up my room and I can't use my room, and I can't even shower for that night because the water supply is going to be turned off. Oh my god, how annoying.

I'm either going to stay in a hotel room, or I'm going to crash at Arnaud's. It's not like he'd mind anyway (far from it). I'm currently waiting for him to get off work - yes, on a Sunday - so that I can go over. It's almost 11 pm. The Tube isn't going to run all night. I had a really shitty start to the day after losing yet another tennis match to yet another person who isn't technically as good as me, and so I really wanted to see him, but I had to do my essay and he had to go to work - and it's dragged on till now.

I was in a horrendous mood after that match. During the warm-up, I thought, "Wow, if I don't beat this girl, I'm gonna hate myself." After I lost 6-3, 6-3, I definitely hated myself. The only part of her game that was better than mine was her netplay, which was definitely way better than mine. Her serve was about on par with mine, but I definitely have way better groundstrokes than her.

I don't know what it is that makes me lose to people that I really, really shouldn't lose to. When I'm in a match situation, I get tight without even realising that I'm getting tight - start making stupid errors that I don't usually make and my serve becomes even worse than usual. I know that the first thing that I need to fix is my netplay - fix the damn backhand volley and actually go to the ball to punch it instead of waiting for it to come to me like a fool. Also, I could have stretched for a volley but I don't know why I just stood there like an idiot and watched the ball sail past me. Oh, and it would be nice to have an overhead as well, so that floaty balls don't just fly over my head as I watch helplessly.

The thing is, playing with people without proper groundstrokes is a massive nightmare for me. I am the stereotypical baseline ball-basher: my game consists of hitting the ball as hard as I can from the baseline. I don't go to the net unless I hit an approach shot, which shores up the problem with playing technically unsound people: their shots drop way short, which force me to go forward, which takes me out of my comfort zone, forcing me to play at the net. If someone had kept the stats of my match today, my stats at the net would have been something like 1/384285485183478375812425. No joke. At least I won 1 point at the net, I guess.

So yeah, I couldn't play my game at all; and when I could, shit, I was so good. The ordinary intermediate-ish player cannot handle my backhand. No one should serve to my backhand, especially on the second serve, because my backhand loves bashing the shit out of those paceless balls.

Alas...I still lost. Imagine how crushed I was when the girl told me that she was out drinking the night before and only got home at 3 am. Not only did I lose, period, I lost to someone with a hangover.

There was definitely a few minutes this morning when I genuinely hated tennis. But it's obvious that it's not tennis that I hate - it's losing. I hate losing. I really, really, really hate losing.