I was really annoyed with my returns. I could get the racquet on the ball but not the ball over the net. He said that it was because of the inconsistency of his serve, but to me, as long as the ball is over the net and in, it is on me to hit it properly. Hence, the failure was all mine. I gave away so many cheap points in my return game, especially my brain-dead attempts to hit a backhand up-the-line return winner whenever I received from the deuce court. After the 1384136837173617th attempt that landed out or into the net, I literally yelled to myself, 'Stop doing this!'
I get really agitated and upset at myself when I play tennis. I said 'fucking hell' once. I was really embarrassed. I yell out a lot when I miss shots, and since I miss half the time, half the match consisted of me yelling. How nice, right?
I saw Martin today; he played with Kennedy, as usual. It was funny watching them play as they were both swearing at themselves.
On another note, everything that happened before tennis and after lunch today was fucked up. Long story short, I fell for one of those stupid phishing scams. I received a weird email from the tax authorities, saying that I had a tax repayment of almost 200 pounds and I needed to file the claim by tomorrow. I thought maybe this had something to do with the money that I received earlier this year, but I was puzzled as to why 1) the email wasn't addressed to me; 2) it was for 2014 when I wasn't even in the UK; and 3) the email was sent to my cam.ac.uk. account.
I was puzzled, but apparently I was greedier. I clicked on the link, entered ALL my bank account information including the 'verified by Visa' password that I sometimes need to enter when I buy something online (I even thought, 'Why do they need this?'), and basically just wanted to claim the money and was in such a hurry to leave the house and get to the library that I didn't stop to think. I stopped to think only after I'd given away the money in my bank account for free. That was when it finally hit me that this shit didn't smell right; in fact, it really bloody stank.
I ended up going to the bank and spending an hour fixing it. I cancelled my debit card, changed my phone banking password, and was advised to open a new bank account, which couldn't be done until I fixed an appointment. In the meantime, I should open a sub-bank account, a savings account, which the lady at the bank had some trouble with, but which I could mercifully do myself when I got home. So I transferred almost all my money to this new account. I hope my debit cards come soon because all I have in cash are 50-pound notes and nobody likes receiving these bills here.
I still cannot believe what an idiot I was. I didn't breathe a word about this to my parents; there's no need for them to know because the situation is under control. I really don't know what I was thinking. I mean, yeah, I was thinking the money was nice, but seriously? How could I have been so stupid? How could I have fallen for such an obvious scam? This bloody paper is really getting to me.
To make things worse, when I finally got to the library at 4, I realised that I'd left my paper with the notes from the supervision yesterday at home. That was when I threw in the towel; I came back and did some laundry, then fixed the bank account issue, and went off to play tennis.
Lastly, John made some joke about me being his fall-back option if it doesn't work out with his new girlfriend.
I replied, 'I am no one's second choice.'
He also told Josh about my crush when he met up with Josh in Harvard; he ended his Facebook message with, 'We also think that you should approach [name of crush]!' Josh is quite well-acquainted with this person. Somehow it didn't occur to John that I didn't want the embarrassing fact of this crush broadcast to the rest of the world. Okay, Josh isn't the rest of the world, and fine, it's not exactly a secret; but still! John really knows no boundaries!