Ego Ranting Is Never Pretty

 ...The Ego, however, is not who you really are. The ego is your self-image; it is your social mask; it is the role you are playing. Your social mask thrives on approval. It wants control, and it is sustained by power, because it lives in fear ~ Deepak Chopra

"I'm so tired.  I just got out of work.  Haven't eaten anything yet.  Haven't had time to rest yet.  My shorts are too tight.  This dress makes me look fat.  I am fat.  My hair is awful.  Make up isn't doing much to help the situation.  Is that gray??  I look tired already.  If only I had washed my hair this morning.  I only have 10 minutes to get ready!  So. Damn. Tired.  Move out of the way, dumb drivers!  I wish I was driving a newer car.  I wish my dress looked better.  I wish I was a size 3-5 again.  I'd even settle for 7.  This car is soooo slow.  Why didn't I make time to run on Thursday?  Why did that maintenance man took so long, I could've run before billiards.  Why did Jesse put me against a higher level player, I keep getting beat.  Jesse always tells me to relax and have fun, so why aren't I having fun?  I have to stop pouting when I don't sink a ball.  I have to stop setting up easy shots for my opponent.  Ugh 10 balls last night, what a loser.  Of course the THIN girl won her match.  Bleh.  Things would be easier if I was thinner.  Why did I agree to play tennis right after work?  This court is dirty.  Leaves everywhere.  The wind just kicked up.  Didn't she say she was injured?  Why is she hitting so well?  Why can't I hit straight?  What is wrong with my topspin?  Damn strings.  And now the grip isn't tacky enough.  Why did I let Steve convince me to try these strings?  1-6 on the first set?!  WTH.  C'mon, Karen, try harder.  She's thinner than me.  Blondes get away with everything!  The net hates me, it's blocking all my shots.  Why didn't I bring water?  Why didn't I eat anything before I played?  How did I beat her last time and now she's kicking my ass with 2-6 for the 2nd set.  Yes, we're done - you just beat me!  Twice!  Great.  Even her car is cute.  New, pristine white BMW next to the grimy, old gold one from the 80's.  Power door locks too.  Well of course go back in the car to grab your cell phone - tell everyone you beat the girl who beat almost everyone at the Westlake Club.  Annihilated by someone who hasn't played in a while, who was laid up in the hospital for 5 days.  Why did I ever think I was good?  I'm going to suuuck tomorrow." 

Yes, I ranted like that in my head from the time I got home from work to the time I got in my car after the tennis game.  Amazing.  I just had to write it all down.  I even ranted to Steve while we were waiting to get seated at Sushi Planet.  But the moment we started eating and talking about other things, it was like a light switch in my brain.  The negativity got turned off.  Or perhaps I should do a better analogy.  Dimmer switches.  My negativity got dimmed to a very, low glow.  Almost indiscernible.  That's when I realized my Ego may re-surface every now and then but that it's never permanent.  My true Self is in there helping me out.  Just like the way your body may crave certain foods because you are lacking particular nutrients, my Self takes over to calm the Ego.  I've yet to really take full control of my Ego but that's a good start!

I'm not perfect.  I don't always have a positive outlook on things.  I get frustrated easily.  That's me.  But I still love myself (not the mirror, mirror on the wall type).  I still hope for the best.  I still try my best.   And that's my Self, not as loud and as obvious as Ego, but a comforting presence.

Perhaps in another blog, I'll let you in on what I'm thinking when I'm doing Bikram Yoga ;-).

First Tournament For 2012

"Sportsmanship for me is when a guy walks off the court and you really can't tell whether he won or lost, when he carries himself with pride either way" - Jim Courier

I was super excited for my first tournament of the year, the 94th Annual Los Angeles Metropolitan Tournament.  It was held at the tennis courts in Griffith Park, not the best courts but at least there were flushing toilets versus porta potties (gag).  It was a great day for tennis - hardly a breeze, about 65 degrees, and we drew a small crowd of watchers who were kind enough to clap during good rallies.  They were probably amazed at the Asian gal who can run after drop shots like no one's business.  Yeah me.

I took the lead at the first two games but my opponent was a 4.0 player - higher rank than me.  And it was clear that she'd been playing for a while,  therefore started adjusting to my game.  She was very consistent and sliced the ball to my backhand quite a lot which is a pain in the derriere for me.

Overall, she was the better player and I lost to her 3-6, 3-6.  

Losing is definitely humbling but it's the first Tournament of the year so I'm not discouraged!  And it's a Round Robin format which means I get to play 2 more ladies next week for this same tournament.  I may be down, but I'm definitely not out!

 

Playing in sandals isn't all that difficult

 

Guts and Pop's Skin

Today through the wonderful world of text-nology,  I received a message via my Android that Dad's test result for lung cancer was negative!  I got the message at work so I held off on being emotional til I got home.  I'm such a cry-baby.

A word about my Dad - he's one of the toughest men I know.  He survived months of radiation and chemo.  All those procedures nearly pounded the life out of him, but no matter how hard the blow, he kept up (or at least sat up!).  It was agonizing watching him through his struggles in 2011.  I mean, this is my father, strongest one in our household, the man that raised me and my siblings, who cooked us meals while Mom was working the graveyard shifts, whose hyena-like laugh makes me laugh, talked our ears off, told us stories about when he was a child in the Philippines.

Classic example of taking our parents for granted.  And I thought he was going to be strong forever.  But to see him, days after radiation and chemo, just sitting there frail and weak, with nothing to say, not able to eat or drink or even swallow.  It broke my heart over and over again when I would visit.  What could I do for him?  I would have given anything to ease even an iota of his pain.  I would have run a marathon 10 times, swam from Oxnard to San Diego without hesitation if that meant he could just be pain free again.

When I did go see him or help take him to see his doctors, I was cheerful, exuded as much positive energy as I could muster and hoped that helped give him some inner strength.  And then when he was asleep or when I got in the car to leave, I let go of all that pent up sadness and became this massively blubbering jelly of a person that I didn't want him (or anyone else, for that matter) to see.  Told you I was a cry-baby.

But that's all water under the bridge now, according to my pops.  He's better, getting better, and on the road to recovery.  Incidentally, on Christmas he had a bit of a headache from trying out wine (of all things).  He ruefully said he definitely can't drink anymore (Yay!  He was such a major drinker before the Cancer Fiasco).  Anyways, he was in a bit of pain from the headache so I gave him some Aleve I had in my bag.  I was extremely satisfied when later his headache went away and he was able to joke around with my Uncles and cousins.  I helped alleviate his pain!  Sure it was a headache, but I got rid of it!  And I didn't have to swim from Oxnard to San Diego!  Score big time.

As far as his skin goes - amazing what happens when you stop smoking and stop drinking.  Suddenly my dad's skin has never (I mean NEVER) looked better than it does now.  His face looks almost youthful.  My sister and I used to laugh about how ashy our dad's skin was.  I never visited my dad's job but I often wondered if he was working at a chalk factory.

So, moral of this blog is don't get cancer and don't drink and don't smoke.  And hydrate as much as you can, moisturize your skin often, and remind yourself that you're better off enjoying life to the fullest because you never know, right?

Gutsy At Anything

"I'm a trisexual.  I'll try anything once" ~ Samantha Jones, Sex in the City

The first time I decided I really wanted to play tennis, I bought a tennis ball machine.  And that was it.  Racket in hand, I dragged that 50 lb machine and two hoppers of tennis balls and just whacked away at a local park.  It didn't occur to me to take actual lessons or to play actual tennis with real live people.  Nope.  I was happy with my bestie - Silent (but not deadly) Partner.

Beginning Tennis Player's Best Friend

With this machine, I was able to develop my topspin and general consistent hitting.  Unfortunately, that was all I could do.  Steve said it was a great tool to practice with but the real test would be once I started hitting with people. He suggested I maybe look for a group to hit with.  I scoffed at his idea, hugged my ball machine protectively, and kept on playing by myself.

Then one day I got bored.  The ball machine was too predictable.  I hate when Steve is right.

Because my nature is a little more on the reserved side, I started off with group lessons.  That's considered "hitting with a group", right?  After 8 weeks of lessons, my instructor wanted to know if I wanted to hit with his group on Saturdays.

Initially I balked at the idea.  I didn't think I was ready, I was unsure of myself and my tennis abilities.  I didn't have the right tennis outfit.  But then I thought "how am I supposed to get better?"  As I was contemplating, I looked down at the tennis court littered with tennis balls we'd been hitting at for hours.

That's it.  I needed balls.  Not tennis balls, balls.  I needed guts-balls.  People who wanted to get better at anything didn't just stand there and think of excuses why they shouldn't get better.  They take chances.  They go for it.

Don't you just love epiphanies?  Especially when they're in the form of little, fuzzy green analogies.

I started playing with his group and got better and better.  Then one day, I played my ass off and won my very first singles match.  Sure she was 15 and 3 decades younger than me, but ha!  I beat her!  I felt like my favorite female tennis player, Ana Ivanovic.

I used to have this dress.  I'll get it back one day along with that figure.

Actually, Rafael Nadal is the one that I really want to emulate.  He's the reason why I started playing tennis.  And not just because he's a Spanish hunk.  Rawr.

Rafael Nadal the King of Topspin.

My passion has become tennis, but I've started to do other activities as well.  I've come out of my comfort zone time and time again to sample all the fun things I once wished I could do.  And all I did was question, well why can't I?  I'm not a paraplegic.  I'm not in a wheelchair.  I'm not hearing impaired (well, I do suffer from selective hearing on occasion) or blind (unless my contacts are off) or mute (although sometimes my hubby wishes I was silent for at least 10 minutes straight).  And with that way of thinking, I managed to join a Billiards League, a Triathlon group, tried Yoga, Bikram Yoga, and have done several 5K's, a mudrun, and a handful of tennis tournaments.

And I'm not done yet.  I'll still be doing this even in the latter years of my life.  I want to be as active as the oldest female Triathlete I know - Harriet Anderson.  You can read about her HERE.  She's in her seventies and still going! That's guts right there.  Truly inspirational.

So don't be afraid.  You want to try something, then do it.  If you're able to - why not?  Don't stop yourself from moving, growing, learning.  Experiment and experience. When Life throws you a tennis ball, what do you do?  You use your topspin forehand to smash it cross court to win the match.

Life will be impressed.

Up Close and (not too) Personal

My very first memory as a child was crying while eating scrambled eggs.  I remember crying because my parents were fighting and I was just trying to tell them how I felt.  And I guess I was hungry too, hence the egg eating.  I remember both parents looking extremely amused at me and who wouldn't be amused at an egg eating, crying child with a bowl haircut.  Anyway, I have no point and am now going to create a new paragraph.

Tennis is my sport soul-mate.  I sort of like running.  If I can stop once in a while to gasp for air, I adore swimming.  Bike riding is fun and then your crotch starts to hurt and then it's not so much fun. Yoga is only fun if I'm holding poses for 90 minutes in 105 degree heat.  I wished I paid more attention to my geometry teacher teaching geometry and not watching him smear chalk all over his pot belly so that I could understand the schematics of billiards. 

My best attribute is enthusiasm and my weakness is lack of focus.  Oh and fries with ranch dressing.  And ice-cream.  And fried squid with tentacles.  Mmm....fried tentacles.

I live in a posh neighborhood in a 2 bedroom, 2 bath condo.  The 2nd bedroom is our garage.  When I say "our" garage I mean I share this palace with my husband of 13 years, Steve.  He was my high school sweetheart and now he's my hubby.  We live with 3 chihuahuas that we love like the spoiled children they are.   I refer to them as "the girls" and I hope people read this bio first before I write a post that might say "I locked the girls in the kitchen with a saucer of food and a bowl of water while Steve and I spend half a day at Chinatown".

I'm hoping people read my blog and wish they were me.  I'm kidding.  I think it's fun to write about stuff - things to do (especially tennis!), places to see, food to eat, losing weight, gaining weight, marriage, friends, family, dogs, money, lack of money, and work - like when my driving students flip out because they were going to change lanes but then here comes a car...stuff like that.  I know not everyone will get my humor which at times can get a bit snarky or sarcastic or down-right smart-assy, so I hope everyone takes my posts with a grain of salt.  It's all good fun and a little peek into how I live, how I think.

Let me know if you have any questions or comments and I'll make sure to send you a sarcastic response.

(wink)

Karen