The Ego Episodes

Thursday, Jun. 12, 2003

The Eagle Has Landed...On My Eye! My EYE!!!

Three library renewals or 9 weeks, an overdue e-mail from the library, and I still haven't finished reading William Gibson's "Neuromancer". It's a tiny book. But by reading it one chapter a day/week/month, I forget the meaning of some terms and with it, the plot. Published in 1984, this book may have been referred to by the Wachowski brothers. Terms like "matrix", "Zion", "jack in", "emps" are rampant.

The concept of programs taking in a human form in the movie made the book's concept of computers existing as "humans" clearer to me and eventually spurred me forward to Chapter 18 after being stuck at Chapter 8 for about a month. I'm finishing it before I go to sleep.

Geekiness aside, my left eye is complaining and doing a great job rubbing it in my face, so to speak. I must have overworked the poor thing. While my right eye is still recovering from the shuttlecock that "mysteriously" flew and collided head on to my unsuspecting little right eye, my left eye has been tasked to do most of the focusing (more on this later).

My postgrad friends (Hark and Hands) suggested we play badminton one Saturday afternoon (June 7, 2003).

Surveying the location, we immediately sought relief outside after a waft of body odor emanating from the sweaty players inside the sports hall reached our noses. Imminent vomitting was thus luckily subdued by breezy weather.

Honestly? We don't smell that bad after hours of playing badminton. Those players must have been using ineffective deodorants or have given up using them altogether.

Finally accustomed to the smell, we took a court and teamed up: Hark and Hands vs. Evad and I. If I were blessed with motor skills equivalent or close to that of Trinity (in the matrix), we--I would've beaten them, single-handedly. But unfortunately, no. I fell in love with books at an early age that I chose to be inside the house rather than mingle with the other neighborhood kids and at least be as good as my younger sisters in any sport, other than Scrabble (It's a sport! And I rule at it! Well, sometimes.).

Since Evad likes to run around chasing the shuttlecock and can easily cover the whole court without my help, we agreed on me taking care of the area near the net.

Little did I know that on the other side, Hark had killer moves--the ones that send shuttlecocks to a spot without batting an eyelash. My eyelash, for that matter.

In a Volley That Never Should Have Happened, I saw the shuttlecock that came off of Hark's racket coming at me very fast before it hit my right eye. Squarely, on my innocent, very open, right eye. I put my right hand over the injured eye, tears uncontrollable, and sat down. Hark (the guilty one) went over and said, "Are you alright?"

"Aaaaaaaahhhh...it's not really painful." My mind was suddenly filled with scary thoughts. What if it develops into a serious hemorrhage? Am I going blind? [gasps] This is turning into a black eye! NOOOOOOO!!!

I stopped playing, put some improvised cold compress (a very cold Coke Vanilla--it has to be Coke Vanilla or else--from the vending machine wrapped in towel) on it and prayed that I will not wake up tomorrow with swollen eyes like Brad Pitt in Fight Club.

My first attempt in a long while in taking on a sport resulted in an eye injury. Lovely.

Playing badminton has traumatized me to the extent that when my opponent does something even as much as to look like he's going to do a Smash, my reflex would tell me to look away and wish for some sort of force field to deflect any incoming high-velocity shuttlecock. Unlike most people, I never get to shield my face with the badminton racket. And there's the reason why I am not good at any sport. My coordination skills suck.

In our badminton game yesterday, I learned that it's actually not that scary when you're at the receiving end. It's all in the mind. Although, I could really use some force field. Also, today? No black eye! Hooray!

{ joycie at 3:00 a.m.}