Balls & Dad.

I've been walking around the house today (inside, because it's air conditioned) and bouncing a tennis ball that I found in a drawer. I guess I'm my own example of the obsession of the male obsession with balls - balls as in sport-related balls.

I first noticed it in primary school, how if a ball of any sort came within range of a boy, he's kick it/throw it/hit it. It was like somesort of reflex or compulsion. No thought was ever put into why the ball came near, to whom it belonged or where it was going. Ball connected with foot and that was it.

So I've been steadily demolishing the house with this furry little yellow sphere and the odd thump on the gyprock walls or the sound of something being knocked off a table is driving everyone else stir crazy. Maybe I should stop.


Dad's going overseas tomorrow and I thought I'd call up and wish him a safe trip - you know, make some semblance of a good son. So I did - but all I could manage was asking how long to roast a chicken for (since I had one in the oven at the time). I eventually did get around to telling him to take care and that was the end of it.

See, I have trouble thanking people, apologising, complimenting and encouraging others - which is probably pretty shyte for me if or when I become a teacher. I'm going to have to work on it, obvisously. I don't know what my problem is.

In my opinion as a student of armchair psychology, I'd put it down to some sort of vulnerability issues. Methinks that maybe in my mind somewhere, if I thank or apologise to someone then I'm exposing myself, thereby becoming vulnerable - as to what I might be vulnerable to, I don't know.

Or it could just be ego.

Issues, people. Issues.


Listening to:
Title: Where Have You Been?
Artist: Reel Big Fish
Album/station: Cheer Up (2002)
Length: 4.00