Coffee talk.

Dysphoria

A follow up of the previous post. Remember I was telling you that my scores during bowling seem to be getting lower and lower?

Today, during lesson, I couldn't help but notice people bowling on the lanes beside mine, so young (maybe primary school or at most lower secondary school level) but so good already, and I cringed in despair as I see my bowling ball skid merrily into the side gutters and creating a loud "thud". I could imagine the people bowling in the other lanes laughing at this old fat idiot who, at such an advanced age, still learning. What a shame. Okay never, granted, those young ppl who bowled so well in the lanes beside mine may have taken bowling lessons as they were using their personalised bowling balls. I do come across other youngsters, not having a single lesson, bowling almost as well with house balls (the bowling balls supplied by the bowling alley), how do you explain how they can bowl so well? Natural talent? If so, I probably have none.

And after the lesson, I was still sore about what happened to my bowling skills, when somehow the person beside me (I don't want to name who) commented about my spare tire to my coach. That really took the cake. I just left like that, marched quickly to the bus stop and took a bus home myself.

So on the way home, I was wondering what was happening to my life. I have siblings who can write and arrange songs and orchestras actually play them for performances. Me? None.

As I look to my right now and face my two cabinets of trophies, plaques, certificates and badges, I can't help but to feel, that I got those prizes, probably due to luck and not based on my ability. After all, I am not a good public speaker, I'm not as good as those who can work in high-profile training companies. I'm not as good as those who always win speech competitions (I believe I won the 2008 division-level speech competition due to luck only) whether they prepare for a day or a week. I'm not as good as those who can write volumes of books about speech.

What happened to the one who wins several trophies a year, the confident speaker who can swagger up the stage / platform and deliver an impactful speech in the past in front of an audience? For now, I'll be thankful if my audience don't laugh at the fool standing in front of them trying to deliver a concrete piece of monologue.

Just looking into the mirror each time I visit the toilet is enough to evoke the sense of despair. Yes I know I'm getting fat, and I don't need people to remind each time they see me, thanks! But I don't think I want it to happen too, I don't wish for a pot-belly before I blow out my birthday candles each year you know?

Where has the past confidence gone to? Even now that I'm working full-time, sometimes I don't feel proud of my job. I don't see what's so proud of being someone who, half the time, does nothing but mindless paperwork (like discharge documents, memos to other organisations, MCs) and the best part is, no one appreciates anyway. No one comes to give you a pat on the back for a good job done, but will be there definitely to holler at you if you don't do what you're supposed to do. Sometimes it comes to a point where I stopped caring already, just do what I'm supposed to do, and at the end of the day / my shift, go home and relax and sleep, and let this routine repeat itself the next day when I open my eyes. When other people ask me what I do, sometimes all I do is to answer that I'm working in the healthcare industry, and I'll promptly change the subject, hoping they won't probe further.

Maybe this is called the mid-life crisis. Maybe one day I'll come back to the top and become the once-confident public speaker I used to be, the active volunteer who never gives up the opportunity to execute a project, the once-slim person who everyones ask to eat more. But for now, I'm just shrivelling up into a grumpy fart who everyone picks at: fat lah, got belly lah, this lah that lah. Whatever. And maybe I should stop taking bowling lessons, since I'm not progressing but seem to be regressing, and I should stop wasting money and throwing my coach's face lest people think that he's a fool to take in a student like me.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Dysphoria

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