It's been a good day - hot, but at least that horrible humidity has largely subsided. I played tennis with Andy at Belmont this afternoon. In the heat of the day we both worked up quite a sweat. When we called it a day, I was leading 6-0 2-0, or as Andy had it, 6-2. After the game we had a welcome beer and an equally welcome swim in the sea at Milford.
I have to say I enjoyed tennis with Andy considerably more than yesterday's interclub experience. In the men's doubles I played with an 18-year-old who served at about 110 miles an hour. His service games consisted almost entirely of aces, unreturnable serves and double faults, so my role in every fourth game was almost ornamental. I never got into any rhythm which was a shame because it was a match we could have won. That 6-4 6-4 loss was frustrating but nothing compared to the mixed match. We lost that one 6-1 6-1; I couldn't wait to get off the court, and thankfully I didn't have to wait long. During that match I thought, gosh I remember when I used to enjoy this. I'll be back on the court again for more interclub - singles and doubles - tomorrow.
I've been having more success on the online poker tables of late than on the tennis court, and am currently showing an overall profit of US$169. Last weekend I plucked up the courage to play the 25c/50c badugi cash games. All that time I spent (wasted?) on those silly badugi freerolls means I can now play the game in my sleep. That doesn't necessarily mean playing well, asleep or awake, but I do think I have a better understanding of the game than most at these low stakes, and my results over my first couple of thousand hands would certainly back that up. In my last two sessions I've tried to mix up my play a bit, which is something I'll have to do if I ever want to move up in stakes. My bankroll has also been boosted this week by making the top four in both tournaments I entered.
Tomorrow I'll be seeing my counsellor. We'll try and figure out ways that I can get out and meet people of my own age. That's something I've been hopelessly, well, hopeless at for as long as I can remember.
Showing posts with label isolation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label isolation. Show all posts
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Lost years - can I make up for them?
I guess it hasn't been a bad week. Since I last posted I've paid two visits to my counsellor, psychologist, call her what you will, and I'll be making another trek that way tomorrow. Without my car (no it hasn't yet magically appeared), getting up to Albany really is a trek. And a hassle. When you lose your car, your independence goes with it. I still haven't decided whether to get a new one before I go away.
In those last two meetings we spent some time discussing my teenage years. I found this subject a bit upsetting: in those so-called formative years I never really "formed" at all. Four months before my 13th birthday - yes I can pinpoint it accurately - every shred of self-confidence melted away. For the next half a decade I found myself almost completely alone. Peer groups, which play a major role in shaping teenagers, didn't exist for me. It wasn't until late 2001 that I finally developed an identity I was happy with, only for it to be snatched away months later when I left university.
I had a tough time of it on the tennis court last Monday. In the doubles (I played with Superman yet again) we were completely outclassed. Our opponents were an imposing force at the net and everything happened far too quickly for us. After barely half an hour we were behind 6-0, 5-0, staring down the barrel of a double doughnut. We put together a nice little cameo performance at the end to at least salvage two games, but really it was a complete mismatch. In the singles I surprised myself by taking the opening set 6-3. It was the best set of tennis I'd put together for a very long time and reminded me of when I could actually play this game. My opponent had the upper hand in most of the rallies but I was able to work my way into the point and eventually hit a winner myself. He was aggressive at the net but all my passing shots found their target. I couldn't have played any better, but it was still a close set, and it was no surprise when his extra class told in the final two sets which both finished 6-2. I wasn't disappointed with the loss; he was simply a better player.
I've moved my Italian class to a daytime slot and a slightly higher level. There always seems to be a skewed gender ratio at language classes but at last Tuesday's session I was the only bloke there. Not that I minded. It was a small class so we were all able to participate. I'm really happy with my progress in the seven months since I started.
It's been horribly muggy in Auckland this weekend. I only had to poke my nose outside the door and my T-shirt would be sticking to me. After this afternoon's tennis it was like a wet rag.
In those last two meetings we spent some time discussing my teenage years. I found this subject a bit upsetting: in those so-called formative years I never really "formed" at all. Four months before my 13th birthday - yes I can pinpoint it accurately - every shred of self-confidence melted away. For the next half a decade I found myself almost completely alone. Peer groups, which play a major role in shaping teenagers, didn't exist for me. It wasn't until late 2001 that I finally developed an identity I was happy with, only for it to be snatched away months later when I left university.
I had a tough time of it on the tennis court last Monday. In the doubles (I played with Superman yet again) we were completely outclassed. Our opponents were an imposing force at the net and everything happened far too quickly for us. After barely half an hour we were behind 6-0, 5-0, staring down the barrel of a double doughnut. We put together a nice little cameo performance at the end to at least salvage two games, but really it was a complete mismatch. In the singles I surprised myself by taking the opening set 6-3. It was the best set of tennis I'd put together for a very long time and reminded me of when I could actually play this game. My opponent had the upper hand in most of the rallies but I was able to work my way into the point and eventually hit a winner myself. He was aggressive at the net but all my passing shots found their target. I couldn't have played any better, but it was still a close set, and it was no surprise when his extra class told in the final two sets which both finished 6-2. I wasn't disappointed with the loss; he was simply a better player.
I've moved my Italian class to a daytime slot and a slightly higher level. There always seems to be a skewed gender ratio at language classes but at last Tuesday's session I was the only bloke there. Not that I minded. It was a small class so we were all able to participate. I'm really happy with my progress in the seven months since I started.
It's been horribly muggy in Auckland this weekend. I only had to poke my nose outside the door and my T-shirt would be sticking to me. After this afternoon's tennis it was like a wet rag.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Positive chi, man
I didn't get a lot of sleep after writing my last blog post. The next morning I felt terrible, so after some deliberation I decided to stay at home. For some reason we can carry over sick days from one year to the next, so I've still got 46½ of them up my sleeve.
Mum thinks I should move out of my hermit pad. She's right. Spending so much time alone isn't good for me so I'm now seriously thinking of flatting. A lot of our shop windows here are covered in ads, some of them were for flatmates so I jotted down some details, but I was distracted by the number of ads for tarot card readings. Personally I think all that stuff is a load of baloney, but so many people here are into tarot (isn't the hermit one of the cards?), astrology, numerology, palmistry, feng shui, you name it. And what's more, go into any bookstore now and you'll find a whole aisle devoted to "mind, body, spirit" with titles along the lines of "Seven Steps to Eternal Happiness". Do people really think it's that simple? And why is seven always the magic number?
I got quite a bit done on Friday, far more than I would have at work. But that didn't stop me from being depressed. Yesterday was also fairly productive (I found ten recruitment agencies that I hope to contact over the next week), but again I was on my own all day. Today on the other hand was one of the most sociable days I've had for some time. I spoke to my gran first thing, then went to the French club. At lunchtime I saw Brendan who's certainly an interesting character. He even offered me a room at his place to rent. I won't take him up on that offer for a variety of reasons. He's a bit older than me for a start - I need to find people of my own age. Secondly, though I really like his house, living in that area with all its cul de sacs and funny little roundabouts and streets all named after birds would do my head in after a while. Thirdly, Brendan is big on his communications equipment and he likes putting up signs all over his house. I'd feel I was being watched.
This afternoon I played tennis, or tried to. It was a lovely day for it, but for me it wasn't much fun at all. They had seven games of doubles going on at once; all that sunlight and noise and all those flying fuzzy yellow objects were more than I could cope with. We played sudden death deuce - I lost nine of those deciding points in a row, but really I didn't care. I just wanted to get off the court and go home. It wasn't that long ago that I used to enjoy tennis; now it's as enjoyable as going to the dentist.
I've got tomorrow night's Italian class to look forward to, but Tuesday is a potentially scary day at work. I'll find out who's being restructured, streamlined and downsized, so I'll be on full tsunami alert.
Mum thinks I should move out of my hermit pad. She's right. Spending so much time alone isn't good for me so I'm now seriously thinking of flatting. A lot of our shop windows here are covered in ads, some of them were for flatmates so I jotted down some details, but I was distracted by the number of ads for tarot card readings. Personally I think all that stuff is a load of baloney, but so many people here are into tarot (isn't the hermit one of the cards?), astrology, numerology, palmistry, feng shui, you name it. And what's more, go into any bookstore now and you'll find a whole aisle devoted to "mind, body, spirit" with titles along the lines of "Seven Steps to Eternal Happiness". Do people really think it's that simple? And why is seven always the magic number?
I got quite a bit done on Friday, far more than I would have at work. But that didn't stop me from being depressed. Yesterday was also fairly productive (I found ten recruitment agencies that I hope to contact over the next week), but again I was on my own all day. Today on the other hand was one of the most sociable days I've had for some time. I spoke to my gran first thing, then went to the French club. At lunchtime I saw Brendan who's certainly an interesting character. He even offered me a room at his place to rent. I won't take him up on that offer for a variety of reasons. He's a bit older than me for a start - I need to find people of my own age. Secondly, though I really like his house, living in that area with all its cul de sacs and funny little roundabouts and streets all named after birds would do my head in after a while. Thirdly, Brendan is big on his communications equipment and he likes putting up signs all over his house. I'd feel I was being watched.
This afternoon I played tennis, or tried to. It was a lovely day for it, but for me it wasn't much fun at all. They had seven games of doubles going on at once; all that sunlight and noise and all those flying fuzzy yellow objects were more than I could cope with. We played sudden death deuce - I lost nine of those deciding points in a row, but really I didn't care. I just wanted to get off the court and go home. It wasn't that long ago that I used to enjoy tennis; now it's as enjoyable as going to the dentist.
I've got tomorrow night's Italian class to look forward to, but Tuesday is a potentially scary day at work. I'll find out who's being restructured, streamlined and downsized, so I'll be on full tsunami alert.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Fixed and Floating - formed on the First of Feb!
There are quite a few Fs there, and that pretty much sums up how I'm feeling right now. I've been suffering from depression for nine years, off and on, and thought it might be liberating to put my experiences down on paper, so to speak. Who knows, I might even get to meet one or two people like me, which is normally an extremely rare event. Whatever, every man and his dog has a blog, and since I have neither a blog nor a dog, I feel I've been missing out.
I came up with my blog title after overhearing conversations at work (yes I still manage to hold down a job) about mortgage interest rates. Everyone has an opinion about the merits of fixed or floating-rate contracts, to the extent that the whole fixed-or-floating debate is getting close to Blur-versus-Oasis was in the nineties. I've yet to dive into the housing market for all kinds of reasons, but I figure I'm both fixed (nothing ever seems to change) and floating (totally directionless).
I live in Auckland, New Zealand, having moved here from the UK in November 2003, and I'm currently very much in the "on" phase of my depression cycle. Anything involving other people is pretty much off the agenda, and everything else, while still manageable, has slowed down considerably. I walk at half the speed I used to, supermarket shopping seems to take ages, and at work I'm completely unmotivated and functioning at about 30% of capacity. I live alone, have no family here and few if any friends. My parents live in South Canterbury, which for those of you who don't know NZ, is an 80-minute flight and an even longer drive from here. So I'm almost totally isolated.
Last night I went to a party with work people for the first time in a long time. Heaven knows why I went. The whole experience was painful for me and I was home by 11. Watching Jeremy, the new maths whizz-kid, get eaten alive by a bunch of blokes who with a few drinks inside them had turned into pack animals, was horribly reminiscent of school. Sensing Jeremy was enjoying the party even less than me, I dropped him off on the way home.
On Friday night I was up past 3am listening to the commentary of the match between Nadal and Verdasco which was simply amazing. Richard Evans and Chris Bowers are brilliant commentators - shame they couldn't have done all five sets together. I now have mixed feelings about tonight's final. Part of me wants Federer to tie Sampras's record, but wouldn't it be something if Nadal could recover from playing the longest match in Australian Open history to win the final? I have half a mind to find a pub somewhere and watch it, and maybe take tomorrow off work. I've taken very few sick days in my five years at this job, and let's face it, I am sick right now.
I came up with my blog title after overhearing conversations at work (yes I still manage to hold down a job) about mortgage interest rates. Everyone has an opinion about the merits of fixed or floating-rate contracts, to the extent that the whole fixed-or-floating debate is getting close to Blur-versus-Oasis was in the nineties. I've yet to dive into the housing market for all kinds of reasons, but I figure I'm both fixed (nothing ever seems to change) and floating (totally directionless).
I live in Auckland, New Zealand, having moved here from the UK in November 2003, and I'm currently very much in the "on" phase of my depression cycle. Anything involving other people is pretty much off the agenda, and everything else, while still manageable, has slowed down considerably. I walk at half the speed I used to, supermarket shopping seems to take ages, and at work I'm completely unmotivated and functioning at about 30% of capacity. I live alone, have no family here and few if any friends. My parents live in South Canterbury, which for those of you who don't know NZ, is an 80-minute flight and an even longer drive from here. So I'm almost totally isolated.
Last night I went to a party with work people for the first time in a long time. Heaven knows why I went. The whole experience was painful for me and I was home by 11. Watching Jeremy, the new maths whizz-kid, get eaten alive by a bunch of blokes who with a few drinks inside them had turned into pack animals, was horribly reminiscent of school. Sensing Jeremy was enjoying the party even less than me, I dropped him off on the way home.
On Friday night I was up past 3am listening to the commentary of the match between Nadal and Verdasco which was simply amazing. Richard Evans and Chris Bowers are brilliant commentators - shame they couldn't have done all five sets together. I now have mixed feelings about tonight's final. Part of me wants Federer to tie Sampras's record, but wouldn't it be something if Nadal could recover from playing the longest match in Australian Open history to win the final? I have half a mind to find a pub somewhere and watch it, and maybe take tomorrow off work. I've taken very few sick days in my five years at this job, and let's face it, I am sick right now.
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