Hi people. I dunno how often anyone checks this. Sorry if this is setting a bad example, posting all these personal items here. But hey, freedom of blogession, right?
-- Here's an image-that-could-possibly-mean-something: (symbol? or more so allegory? BAH LITERARY TERMS. Here are some words that I felt like saying.)
Gym volleyball. The first group I'm in, the choose-your-own type, fails epically. We simply cannot pass the ball. We're scared to hit, and we watch as the ball flies over to the bleachers. Someone picks it up, dares to serve, and starts another futile attempt... only to hear it thud again. This is frustrating. Hair-pulling, teeth-grinding, OHMYGOD frustrating.
Then come the official teams. I'm oddly put with the jocks, those massively towering, back-slapping, guys who are good at just about any sport (you name it). And, of course, they can hit the ball. We actually have fluid games, back-and-forth, long, nice, volleys. Except... I don't hit the ball. I stand on the side and watch, helplessly. I occasionally bump it over, or maybe hit it awkwardly and end the rally, but for the most part, it's all them. The only real contribution I make to the team is serving. See, I can start a rally---and end one, just as easily. It's the middle banter I can't handle.
Sometimes the ball just lands in a place you can't hit. Or other times, it's aimed straight at you, but the angle it hits is just... wrong. Or maybe you should've, could've gotten it, but you really didn't feel like putting the effort. No matter what, you feel more and more useless, boring, bored. You can't keep a volleyball going. But if you sit back, and let everyone else do the bump/set-ing, then, hey-presto, you've got a game.
And the game finally works... because you're not in it.
(You're sorry that "I" became you in the last two paragraphs. You didn't mean the actual you reading this. You meant "I" for "you." But You-actually-you understood that. You're sorry. It's just a bad habit you have.)