.: Oxymoronic :.

When I was little my only source of any physically demanding activity was moving the pieces across the Monopoly board. Well, you can always throw in the annual Holy Week Clean-up but that’s not so enjoyable. Growing up, it goes to show that I’m not that active. Our place is so confined that going out must mean you end up getting spanked. I had asthma, so I was placed in the norm classification of being the perennial bookworm and smart-ass. Eventually, I recovered from my sickness and began disposing of the books I read. I’m 22 now; and is it too late to begin getting my muscles move about? Apparently not. College life has opened up a lot of new possibilities when it comes to sports and physical hustle and bustle. I started joining Dance Clubs and Cheerleading Groups and put the most interest in our P.E. Class. Maybe I was still too timid then that I didn’t seem to find the full knack of things. Earning my own dough has made the roads wider when it comes to keeping in shape. I am now addicted to badminton.

Long ago, when I first thought of joining my peers for some smashes I used to think it’s so dorky and worthless. I was definitely wrong. Anything to keep my body moving about is good, so this has definitely fit the bill. The once-a-week, 2-3 hour stay in the court to volley shuttlecocks has done so much for my life in both its physical and socio-emotional aspects that I can’t seem to be stopped right now. Old friends have now come back to take a chance to exchange some hits. It has absolutely become a brand new hobby.

Being in the court has made life outside the wicked office a little easier. Believe me, it IS a stress-reliever. The feel of the Tara flex courts when you side step about is nothing less of a run away from your oily boss. Having to swing and whack the cocks with all your might is enough release for those days you can’t help but cuss blatantly over your useless and incompetent superior. The profusion of sweat coming out of your glands can already make up for all the frustration and terrible management decisions you disagreed on. Oh, there will be pain, but these are battle scars for a job well done. Your whole body will become funky and ailing about, but it is all good. Something has been yielded from this outlet. And did I mention it’s an excellent workout too? Absolutely, positively, and most definitely, I am not gonna get tired of this sport too prematurely.

This is still the start of my on-going repression and flushing of my own personal demons but it’s hitting two (even three) birds with one stone. I get to have fun while keeping myself trim, at the same time get to let my negative thoughts and emotions go. Mental health in check, the strengthened platonic bonds and potentially another channel to hook-up again are of huge bonuses.

Badminton is fun!

Sleep has been an enormous necessity for me since I’ve started
working on an eccentric schedule. I have mentioned previously that I
may have already incurred narcolepsy and perhaps I am correct. It’s
getting quite embarrassing that people find me sleeping in my
workstation or I catch myself in the verge of dozing off in the train.
I can practically sleep anywhere, anytime (well as long as the AC is
on!) It’s true what they say: it has become a luxury.

Similarly, getting subconscious has become an outlet for me. An
escape. Life in the real world has been pretty abysmal lately and it’s
always an insatiable anticipation to let yourself drown into the state
of trance. This is the only feasible option for me to forget about the
black cloud that may seem to surround me. It’s always a welcome change
to be engulfed into a makeshift reality…even for a short time.

I had this strange dream, a very good one in fact. The details need
not be told but to put it simply, it’s as real as it gets. I guess it
may be true that dreams are your deepest and most unsolicited desires,
thoughts and intentions. However, the truth can be twisted sometimes,
even in your slumber. I may have been successful to experience my
unearthed yearnings in this particular episode of my subconsciousness
but in way reality found its way to slap me in the face and remind me
that this is STILL NOT REAL. But man, how I wish I could turn that
scene to life. Again, nothing will be divulged about that dream of mine
for it will only etch in my forehead "pathetic low-life".

That state of mind may never be completely explained scientifically
in a long time but what it does to the person is a mixture of surreal
serenity and twisted ecstacy. Sure, I did feel I was in another world I
could agree on when I had that dream, but it also gave me a sense of
frustration knowing that it is still a dream and I may never get to do
it in real life. Which is the real life anyway? Is it our conscious
state or the end of the tunnel that leads to Slumberlandia?

Sleep is my new reality-check. My escape pod. My medicine. And I do
think that it may be time to induce myself to this condition chemically
if I had to. The world has no use for me at the moment.