honest to blog

          My, my, do I loathe the day they realized that Law, Economic, and Accounting subjects are of huge “significance” to the marketing students in Monash (God have mercy on their souls). If anybody out there wants to check me into the mental institution, tell you what, just expose me to those damned subjects and that will do the job just nicely. No pain, just gain. And hat off to those real-life heroes who managed to emerge from the LEA pressures unscathed.

            Don’t get me wrong. I do love challenges once in a while. In fact, I made an altar especially for them. But the LEA challenges are not at all similar with the challenges I love. They share different mothers for the same father. They are the origin of stepsisters. And they are the opposites that attract, thanks to those wonderful institutions called universities. And I can’t blame those magnificent institutions either. They are responsible for increasing countries’ standard of living.

            One thing I know, there is always a good and a bad side to everything (and thus, the mercy on their souls). And like someone once said, these kinds of subjects were “apparently invented by some people who did not think that the world was complicated enough”, amen. Yeah, that someone should receive a humanitarian award for this kind of thinking. And wait till I get to financial modelling (God have mercy on my soul)…

             No intention to disgrace the great writers intended. But with all due respect, “blocks” do occur in the sport context. Heck, such things also happen frequently when it comes to marketing products. The obvious example is what marketers call a product’s life cycle. Ever notice that tiny bit of stagnant straight line on a product’s initial way up?

            ANYWAY, back to the sport context, I shall grant thee the not-so-glorious reason for ramping around this miserable block. You see, my dad was not too keen on knowing that I spent my school holiday hanging around the house making a bat out of myself. His distaste soon turned into a “brilliant idea”; for me to learn playing golf!

            Not wanting to stir up any one-way verbal attacks from the paternal unit, I accepted. To cut the story short, I actually started out ok. Here, ok means better than some other certain women I observed at the driving range. At least, my swings were not bad at all compared to those women. I was (or at least I felt) like the first lady of the driving range at the first few golf sessions.

            Could not hit the ball far enough? No worries, I’ve got all the logical beginner-related excuses up on my sleeves.

            Could not hit the ball at all? Hey, it’s not like I did it every time!

            So, when I began to think that I was going to turn into a female Tiger Woods, something terribly wrong happened; I lost my talents to the morning northern wind. I simply stopped swinging right, my waist and arms did not play their initial rhythms anymore and my shots were complete mayhem! Just when I sort of started to enjoy playing golf, all the pleasures of easy shootings were simply stripped away from me. What the $#@*~$%^ happened?

            Dreams shattered and hope thrown away like used teabags (with a need to be lame to replace the empty space…), I turned my thoughts toward my youngest sister; how she started out with all her amazing technique growth and improvements only to be granted with “blocks” on a certain point of her junior tennis career. Some serious coaching therapy sessions kinda improved the situation significantly though. It’s just that the accompanying wallet therapy could have been better spent on those pretty shoes I’d been eyeing for weeks…