anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,

This is one hell of a crappy entry.

Marathon Tennis

Marathon tennis is no joke. It's no joke when you're actually the one grinding it out on the courts, under the HOT SUN, and not sitting on your arse in front of your TV watching the pros play their share of marathon tennis.

Ben and I played from 2 to almost 6 today. At first it was blistering, blazing hot and I couldn't take it after a while; I actually felt as if my skin was melting off my flesh. Damn unpleasant.

Thankfully, at about 3-ish (rough estimate; I don't wear my watch when I play because I'm not Roger and don't have 13847385712 Rolexes to choose from), it got a bit cloudy and the sun was sufficiently blocked so that I could play in peace. My stamina has improved somewhat over the past few months, but there's just NO WAY IN HELL I can stand on that tennis court for more than 15 minutes without wanting to die under the hot sun. I don't even have to do anything; just STANDING under the hot sun is enough to kill me.

Sure enough, the clouds came to my rescue, and two hours after we started, I started to remember how to hit a proper forehand. Before that it was still the same bullshit fake-ass non-existent forehand that was just tragic; after that, I could actually hit a few forehands that 1) went over the net; 2) went over the net in a rather stylish fashion; 3) didn't fly out of the court; 4) didn't fly way too high to be returned; and lastly, 5) WERE ACTUALLY IN. I also actually hit two in a row! OMG, amazing!

Still, there were a few forehands that I completely missed, and the worst part was, I didn't expect to miss at all. I (thought I) was in position. I (thought I) had a good look at the shot. But when I swung my racquet, the ball just died. I either completely missed or somehow slammed the ball down. Either way? Totally tragic.

Ben tends to serve to my backhand though which totally suits me because I still way prefer the backhand. Perhaps Ben hits to my backhand because he's figured out by now that going to my backhand increases the chances of the ball going back to him properly. Either way, it's good, so it's all good.

I'm really tired right now and not really in the mood to write so I have no idea why I'm even typing this. I must say, though, that I'm super irritated with the sun and the damage it's done to my skin. My once-fair skin is now charred and burned and disgusting. The tanline from my wrist band is also SO obvious. Ugh, I want to die. I want to play tennis outdoors but I don't want to get tanned. HOW?


Collegiate Dinner

To be honest, I was largely bored. I was also really tired from tennis in the afternoon so I wasn't all that into it. It only got better when everything has ended and everyone was getting ready to leave, and Mag and I drove to Dempsey's to sit around for a bit with food and coffee and talk.

I'm ambivalent about whether or not I'd miss law school. Or rather, to be more precise, I will miss law school, but I'm not sure if it's law school per se that I'll miss, or if it's the continued escapism from the reality of my age, my impending responsibilities, that being in an academic institution and calling yourself a student provide. Perhaps I'm once again choosing between the lesser of two evils - I don't want to graduate, not so much because I love law school to bits and pieces, but because I simply don't want to work. The idea of working is intimately tied up with that ominous phrase, 'growing up' - and although I am technically an adult, being in school has let me avoid shouldering any genuine, meaningful responsibilities, and I'd like that to continue.

Yeah. I don't know. I'm too tired to think.

Oh well.

Tags: law school, playing tennis

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