ball of lightning [dot] com

Someday, I’m going to have to learn that it’s not in MY control. And you can’t let things you can’t control consume your life.

Advice I always give, advice I should fucking take.

Upon edit: Uh, yeah, it’s “emo.” The post that is. Not pleasant to read. Stay out if you don’t want to hear it. But I won’t password protect it. So read on at your own discretion, kids.

Dammit. I just can’t flat out shake it. No matter how hard I try. No matter how much I try to convince myself of the perceived fallacies, the negatives, the undesirables. It just doesn’t want to go away– if anything, it just keeps dragging it’s heels more and more. It’s a terrible tug-of-war. The worst kind. The kind where half doesn’t want to give up quite yet. And the other half is trying to stop me from going off the deep end. And now I’m beginning to act oddly– at least before all this, I could feign indifference, nothingness– now I am doing a pathetic job of doing that. I’ve become an isolationist and an expert at avoidance, and standing in a corner and ignoring the situation. A distraction (apparently one that one needs to be rid of now), but now an indifferent distraction. I don’t want to go out that way! Gah! You know it’s all a lie kid! You know the facts! Stop being delusional! Ah! Why, why, why!? Gqweiopbvndcsfonc vwqouif! Why is this such a fucking big deal now? So much yelling at myself for allowing me to put myself in a compromising position. I have a funny feeling I’m setting myself up for an epic fall. Oh boy, it’s going to be epic. So when I snap in the coming weeks, you can point to this post and say “you heard it here, first.” This weekend is going to suck. Tremendously. I’m going to be jealous, on edge, and easily agitated. 2-1 says I end up drunk (or sober) blogging one of those posts that should never get written. So, if you really want some juice, make sure to get up at 8 AM on Saturday and Sunday this weekend, before I wisen up and delete it, allowing it to be banished forever. A story held within the halls of my soul.

The weather is better. Got to go golfing, and I hit the ball well. I guess that’s good. Usually that makes me feel a whole lot better. Not today. I felt more agitated than usual and incredibly tired/weak. And I don’t get why I’m so damn tired. I got so much sleep last night. Had one of those dreams where you wake up and go “Oh c’mon God? Are you kidding me!? Why even tease me?” Everything was so good in my life. Perfection. And my fucking alarm clock took that away from me. Fifteen minutes is all I ever get for someone to fall into me, instead of the other way around.

Though one has to chuckle, how my “issues” that once seemed specific to me, are quickly infesting a few of my closer friends. Either it’s a terrible coincidence, or I’m having more of an effect on other people than I really want to. Well direct effect on people I’m not actually trying to affect. At all.

Oh, though today I bought Capri Sun for the first time in forever. Yes. Excitement abounds.

Uh yeah, sorry I had to subject you to that. Unfortunate huh? Then again, if it really bothers your perception of me, stop reading it. After all, I do a good job of hiding it all in public. Positive or negative? Probably should study for dynamics before I fall asleep. My academics are going to fade. This is the same feeling I had last year on my “C- in Linear Algebra” run. Great…

So I’m now I can add distraction to my resume. *Sigh*

I assume no one realizes what I’m thinking.

Maybe it’s the other way around.

Maybe I don’t know what everyone else is thinking.

People wonder why I am always confused. And feel bad.

Apparently, people who make FUN of bowling as an activity, also bitch and moan because I didn’t divulge the results of this past weekend. Go fucking figure…

The NEBA on Sunday went as average as it could go. Well by average I mean, nothing spectacular, but I didn’t embarrass myself either. Threw the ball real well, best I’ve thrown it in a singles tournament since way back in the JBT days of ‘03. My downfall came in my inability to read the lanes well, and subsequently adjust. In practice, I had a great line to the pocket pretty much straight up 8 or 9. I tried that in the first game, and couldn’t put two strikes in a row together. Seriously– I took a Dutch game into the 9th. Which was blown not because I struck again, but because I put back to back 10-pins on the board. The second game was equally as bad, though I finally got a double! Third (and low by far) game (175) really killed me. Couple opens, and again, only threw one double. Ball was absolutely laying out on the outside, and I thought by moving right (I thought the pattern was similar to the Hawk Invitational in Utica– where I did pretty well– I was in the hunt for all around until piss poor game 7’s and 8’s– going from a 203 average to 193– but it was the beginning of this current run) I could get a little more tail on the backend. Nope. Still mad squirrelly. Huh. So I made a ball change, and moved deep– I think I was playing like 17 out to 10 or something like that. BOOM! Suddenly I found a line– which led to very solid 4th and 5th games, but would not be enough to put me really that close to the cut line. All in all, it was a reasonable event. It was a loss of money, but it was decent experience. It was also a big plus that I continue to feel good about throwing the ball. It was also productive in the aspect that I only had 4 opens for the 5 games (Two 6-7’s, a 4-10, and I somehow missed the 9 in the 3-6-9-10 after I did the whole hook into the 3-6 and everything). All and all, it could have gone better– but it also could have gone a lot worse I suppose.

League Tuesday was horrible. We bowled Sean, Vinay, and Dave (the 7E crew). Lanes (at least our pair) seemed to have a longer buff or something– the ball did not want to pick up down the lane. But the oil volume itself seemed to be lacking. They broke down obscenely fast. I had to use the Xception in the 2nd game for the first time this year, and even had to use the Hexplosion for the first time period. So anyhoo, I struggled to a 586. Which I guess would be mildly acceptable at some point, but not anymore. Of course, I missed 6 because I went to hook at the 7 pin in the tenth frame of game 3, and it rolled at my feet, dropping in the ditch 6 inches in front of the pin. *Sigh*

Our Wednesday league is over now too– but since I was in bowling withdrawal, I went up and threw 6 games. I shot 1279 I think, which I guess is mildly reasonable (~213 average if my quick and dirty math is right). I got real tired in the 5th and 6th games for some reason. Had trouble staying square, and keeping the wrist strong. I don’t know where my stamina went; I remember nights at Sky Top and Bristol throwing like 16-20 games in the span of 3 hours or so, and staying strong throughout. Maybe it’s just that when I’m bowling alone I just get up there and fire, and don’t really take time to recoup between shots.

I still haven’t quite pinned down what I have been doing better this semester that my average climbed like 30 pins. The only thing I can attribute it to is the fact that I’ve finally stopped trying to completely overhaul my delivery. I’ve been caught up the last 2 years in trying to develop this high-rev, high speed, pristine form, and it’s gotten me nowhere. So now I back to the less conventional delivery, trail foot way up in the air and all. I guess it’s OK, it actually took me watching Walter Ray Williams on TV to realize it. The guy had 41 PBA titles, and he looks like he has a damn hernia when he throws the ball. I figure, if I can get consistent with MY shot, and become versatile with MY shot, then I’ll be in business. And so far (knock on wood), I’ve been throwing the ball marvelously.

Oh, and I found out tonight that chics actually DO dig the Snuffy. Always good to know.

Arg!

I had one of those masterful, brilliant, exquisite works that you have all come to know and love typed up. And then the browser froze.

Unfortunate.

And I’m not going to bother right now.

Until tomorrow I suppose.

(Hey I didn’t password protect this one!)

Alcoholic n. - A person who drinks alcoholic substances habitually and to excess or who suffers from alcoholism.

Sometimes I wonder who I live with… and while I can’t really imagine not living with them, you know part of me wants these next seven or eight weeks to fly by.

I don’t know why everything hit me so suddenly in the last couple of days. I was a complete wreck last night, slept a grand total of thirty minutes, and barely made it through the big three classes. Driving always gives me too much time to think about things. Especially driving with no traffic or sights to keep me occupied. Maybe a bit shellshocked, I don’t know what it was. I wasn’t ready to be thrown back to Ithaca yet. I couldn’t tell you how happy I felt just lying on the floor of the basement, watching basketball, baseball, racing, golf– whatever I wanted to at a whim. Just sitting back, no classes, no issues, no relationships, no questions, no answers, no thinking. It was bliss. Just appreciate the times in life

Well, on a mental redemption note, I was right. Well I guess I assumed correctly. Sometimes they aren’t just fickle figments of my imagination; I don’t have to always doubt what I think. Of course, where does it all leave me? I suppose I can relegate myself to the fact that the reward isn’t greater than the risk anymore. I’m not sure if it ever was, since I played merely in thoughts and dazes. The true question lies in what aspects will push me away sufficiently. It actually physically hurts to do things like that, try to find the bad, the hated– to get away from something– but sometimes I feel it’s the only way out, the most direct route to the surface without furthering falling in. I let it envelop me, and parts of it are/were entertaining, brought a little bit of happiness I suppose. But the ultimate realization that it was nothing but a wild, delusional fantasy always brought it down. Brought me down. I think Homer once said something in the Odyssey about dreams coming through ivory and horn– dreams that come to man through the ivory, however fanciful, bring tidings that end up as nothing, while dreams that come through the horn bring “true results” when gazed upon by a mortal.* At least I know I’m not alone, resting in elite company with a legendary Greek poet. Wasted the resources. Resources of both the trained mind, and the heart. Resources that we can only hope will still strike gold sometime. Preferably sooner rather than later.

But I suppose everything keeps turning in it’s place. The world’s not going to stop, deadlines aren’t going to be moved. I’m sure I’ll make it through the rest of the semester. I don’t know what I plan to do when the weekends come, or when the clock doesn’t want to move at its normally brisk pace. Survival is the name of the game. Make it through the end of the year without going crazy, and we’ll make some progress. I’m not even worried about internships anymore. If I get them, I might just decline them. I want to have my summer– where I don’t think, and I can check out and leave everything behind me at 6 PM every day. It simple. And with each passing day I appreciate the simplicity in life.

God I really like the soundtrack to National Treasure. I’m still on this song. I like powerful music. Music harbors so much for me. Sometimes, it changes the mood at the line of song, at one fantastic guitar solo. Sometimes it holds memories– I guess people say they can get that with smell, but I can get it through song. Play me a song, and it evokes something– sometimes– somewhere– some feeling. Defines something; is a window to the past. And you think it’s weird hearing songs from the 90’s now. Imagine what you’ll get when you’re forty. It’s why the classics are so popular.

*“Dreams surely are difficult, confusing, and not everything in them is brought to pass for mankind. For fleeting dreams have two gates: one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those which pass through the one of sawn ivory are deceptive, bringing tidings which come to nought, but those which issue from the one of polished horn bring true results when a mortal sees them.” - Homer. Isn’t it funny what we can remember?

How do people do it? How do you all read everyone so well? People can come up to me (or read this) and tell me exactly what I’m feeling. Know exactly what’s wrong with me. What’s going on on the inside. Sort through the implications, the metaphors, the analogies, and the other randomness that I ramble on incessantly about. No matter how much I hide it, or encrypt it– they can break that code. Why can’t I do that? Why do I have to resort to guessing, to vacillating, to tight-rope walking? I try to learn and adjust; I really do. It’s just, half my life I’ve been wrong one way– but then the other half, I turn around and it’s exactly the opposite. I don’t differentiate well. People can say something that I’ll go “Oh, I know what that means,” but ten minutes later, say something completely contradictory to that belief. I just don’t get it. And that’s kind of frustrating.

So, long ago (it was actually right before winter break last year), I watched National Treasure. Well, hey– I liked it. And I liked the music. So much so that I apparently spent like an hour of my winter break (circa last year) downloading the soundtrack to it. Which isn’t a soundtrack in the “Oh look, Britney Spears is on it!” soundtrack. It’s just a load of theme music composed by someone (John Williams?). So anyways. Track 12. It’s the song from the scene where they actually discover the treasure. Deep underground whatever it is– New York? So why on Earth am I bringing that up? Well for some inexplicable reason, I’ve played that song 24 25 times since yesterday morning. Why? Couldn’t tell you. It’s just striking a nerve. The final discovery, the pinnacle of years of work. The achievement of dreams. The “here it is” moment. The finality of a quest. And it’s not really the drama, the buildup. It’s just the conclusion. You did it. You’re here. Feel as good as you will ever feel again.

And just to end on a random bowling note. Send some positive vibes my way tomorrow. Biggest tournament I’ve ever undertaken, against some of the best bowlers in the northeast. I’m kind of nervous. I’m not going to lie. I really want to put on a good show. So bad. I want a lot in life; a lot of things terribly, terribly bad. More so than I really should. And when I can’t reach it, it hurts. Sadly, bowling (well, that is) is counted among those things– and while the other things are far more important; to life and happiness– sometimes, the overall result isn’t in my hands, whereas bowling is something I control. I guess I want that respect that comes with performing well. I’ve only begun to reacquire it after a lackluster couple of years. Let’s hope I won’t make a fool out of myself– or better yet– make a fool out of them.

Gotta dare to dream I suppose. Though sometimes I call into question– whether I just dream too big, or don’t work hard enough to get there? Will I ever get to cut the net down? Or should I just try lowering the rim? (Yes, I managed to squeeze in the required sports reference)

And someone told me this one the other day;

“A minute’s success pays the failure of years.” - Robert Browning

Let’s hope so my good man, let’s hope so…

I’m losing by too much with no time to go… I’m just running in circles with nowhere to go…

(Let the record show I can rhyme)

I should really just concede.

Game, set, match.

I can never come through in the clutch…

It’s frustrating. A weakness. Kind of gnawing at me. Stupid tight-rope walking. You think the more experience I gained, the easier it would be– it’s too bad that if I had a line on me getting pissed off at some point, I’d take them at any odds imaginable. (Likely the sign of a negativity (realism?) annnnnndd — a gambling problem…)

But aside from that encrypted, mildly emotastical briefing… there is nothing else of interest going on in Torrington. Other than bowling, I suppose. Yes, I’m doing a NEBA on Sunday morning, and yes it’s a lot of money, and yes I better not suck. I’ve been throwing alright this week since I’ve been back, let’s just hope that it continues. I don’t really know what the whole endgame is, but I’d like to see if I’ve actually come somewhere over the last three or four months or so, or if it’s just another freak occurance…

Bah. So tired. I’ve been sluggish all week. Too much food, too much sleep, too much worrying. I should turn in now. Goodnight world.

BTW: To the one dude from Sicily that reads this every day. You’re the man. Or the woman. I’m not really sure who you are, but mad props. I’m glad my life entertains someone out there. Next time I’m in Italy– which will never happen since Cornell has sucked my pockets dry– drinks are on me…