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The Significance of Australia.
But of course, when it ended, everything came rushing back.
This Australian Open that starts next Monday isn't just the first Grand Slam event of the year. It's not just a tennis tournament. It's not just a sport. It's not just a tennis player, and it's also not just Roger Federer. Roger winning his fourth Australian Open, his 14th Grand Slam title and thereby equaling the Sampras Record, will undoubtedly make me happier than any random, listless purchase I make, meaningless trips to shopping malls that end empty-handed, too-short two-hour tennis sessions whose escape is but temporal and transient.
Along a similar vein, if he doesn't win, I think I honestly wouldn't know what I would do. Remember the US Open last year and how I used it as an escape for...well, I can't even remember what anymore? The Australian Open is twice that in terms of its magnitude, its significance, its solace to me when I just don't know any other way, because I'm spent and I just don't know. I would like to have a more productive and fruitful escape than mere tennis, but it is pretty much all I've got at the moment.
I guess, on the bright side, it beats drowning my sorrows in alcohol and finding false comfort in the arms of random, perverse strangers. See? I still can find a bright side to an otherwise bleak situation.
I have class at 9 a.m. tomorrow but fuck I can't sleep. I don't feel like doing anything else so I'm just going to talk emotionlessly about the complete waste-of-time 2-hour "shopping trip" I had today.
It was ridiculous. The bag I usually use for tennis tore, due probably to my brother (but then, I blame him for all the bad stuff that happens!), and so I went hunting for a new bag to carry to tennis sessions. Because I'm ridiculous like that.
I started from Shaw whatever, Isetan. First I went to the Nike store next to Mango downstairs. Looked around, looked for a proper shirt to play in (last week I played in some random tank top I bought from U2 when I was supposed to be studying for Comparative Legal Traditions. Amazing, the things I remember), found nothing. I went up to Isetan, attempted to look for a dress to wear on the first day of Chinese New Year, balked at the absolutely fug-ass clothes on display, found nothing. I went up one storey to the puny-ass sports department, found nothing suitable to wear, but found a couple of Nike bags that I thought could suit my needs, namely, big enough to fit a pair of shoes, my clothes, a towel, and five tennis balls.
But the cheapest of the few was this bland white-silver bag, $89.90. The others were more pleasing to the eye but they cost $99.90 to $119.90. I thought, Fuck, no way I can justify spending so much on a sports bag when I don't even spend more than $50 on my regular handbags!
Thus began my ultimately fruitless search for a cheaper bag that was, unsurprisingly, derailed, somewhat, by my search for this really cute tennis skirt (with in-build shorts) that I saw at the Nike flagship store in Wisma that did not come in my size. The skirt was largely black with hot pink trimmings and some pleats, and unlike the one I already have, it's an actual skirt. Mine is more culottes in the sense that there's no flap covering the back so the front is a skirt and the back is a pair of shorts. Which is fine, but I really liked the skirt, especially because it, oh my god, came with ball pockets.
A slight digression and a rant: I honestly don't understand why Nike and Addidas and I'm sure many other sports brands (Head!) make tennis skirts that don't come with ball pockets. Do they understand how essential those pockets are? I refuse to play in shorts that don't have pockets anymore because it's such a chore bending down to pick up a ball to hit to my friend every single time I want to get a ball in play. And because I can't play, I'd be lucky to sustain a rally of like, six shots - which means I'd need to start with a new ball very often, and so if I don't have pockets, I'd need to bend down every other five seconds to get a new ball. Having pockets saves me the trouble of bending down, which is an amazing chore, as I can just reach into the pockets and take out a new ball. And surprisingly, running around and attempting to get the ball across the net and in the court with two balls in my left pocket doesn't restrict my movements at all. When I first started watching tennis and saw that players keep a ball in their pockets during their service games, I wondered if it restricted their movements. It totally doesn't. I don't even feel the ball in my pocket.
Anyway, I was sooo annoyed at the ten million cute skirts I saw without pockets. ARGH. The same applies to the clothes I periodically look at on TennisWarehouse.com (when I'm really bored, and mostly I go there to see if Nike has released a new Federer t-shirt hahahaha). I'd spot the cutest skirt ever, then click on it and realise IT HAS NO POCKETS. WHAT THE FUCK, SERIOUSLY. Don't they understand the importance of ball pockets?
And while I'm ranting, I'd like to say that Nike Singapore has the most tragic range of tennis apparel, like, ever. The collection I see online is nowhere to be found here, and the new collection, at least as sold in Singapore, is FUGS. The flagship store doesn't really sell much of anything, I must say. Oh well.
Okay, rants over. So I saw the skirt at Wisma and made a decision to hunt down a size S and buy it if it fit and looked nice. I eventually went to World of Sports at Wisma, Stadium at Ngee Ann City, Nike in Takashimaya, Nike at Paragon, and World of Sports in Lucky Plaza looking for that skirt in size S, just to be told, "Sorry ma'am (why do they call me ma'am when I'm obviously a 'miss'?), we have no more size S."
ARGH SAD HEART ACHE HEART BREAK. I gave up in the end - obviously. I simultaneously tried looking for cheaper bags but couldn't find shit, tried looking for a dress but couldn't find shit. In the end, I found myself back in Shaw Isetan, buying one of the bags that I saw in the beginning. I was actually quite annoyed 'cause they had these bunch of bags sloppily hung on this really low rack, and I was carrying my class notes in my hands and was obviously having trouble taking down the bags that were placed deeper inside. To my left were two salesgirls talking to each other. I was there, struggling, and they just stood there talking to each other. I was the only customer. Unless they were blind, which they weren't, they must have seen me. But all they did was stand there and talk to each other.
What the fuck. When I decided to buy one of the $99.90 one, I went up to them, all pissed, shoved the bag in their faces, and went, "Do you have a new piece?" Usually I'd say, "Excuse me, do you have a new piece?"
At least I still spoke in proper, grammatically-correct English.
But then again, even at my most pissed, I wouldn't stoop to saying something like, "Got new piece?" 'Cause that's so totally not me.
Anyway, I can't believe I spent so much money on a bag that I wouldn't even use that much. There was a discount and I ended up paying $82, BUT STILL. The latest bag I bought cost $39 from Mango during the sale. I pretty much never buy bags that cost above $50...well, except the River Island one that I just threw away that was $75 on sale. But that was it, really.
I would LOVE to have so much fucking money that the only thing stopping me from buying high-end luxury branded goods is the fact that most of the time, the materials they use are against my beliefs. Wouldn't that be great? I think it would.
I met Tris for dinner and I wanted to eat the vegetarian dumplings at Din Tai Fung 'cause they're the best vegetarian dumplings I have ever eaten, EVER, EVER. We even sat down and were served tea and all, but when I picked up the order form and saw that my precious vegetarian dumplings was crossed out, I demanded to know what the fuck was up.
The waitress said they only serve it on weekends because, basically, nobody eats it and they can't make it fast enough on-demand or whatever.
FUCK THAT SHIT.
In fact, fuck that shit, I was all, "I'm damn sad. I have nothing to eat. Let's go." They don't even have the noodles with peanut sauce that I usually eat. WAHHH. Tris was okay either way, so we upped and left.
We ended up at Food Republic which was the original plan anyway, and had a nice talk about nothing and everything. He told me some things that were way too much info. But then, if he didn't, he wouldn't be Tris.
Without my laptop, I actually pay pretty close attention to what the lecturer is saying in class. For Comparative Constitutional Law, I've generally hung on MT's every word.
Tonight, though, I couldn't really focus. I did, largely, but...not really.
And I just remembered that I haven't done the huge stack of readings for Human Rights in Asia and yeah, I don't know why I keep doing this. Sure it's the first week of school, but it's not an excuse.
I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I'm so tired, but I can't sleep. It's 1.46 and I intend to get up at 7.30 to shower before I go to school and I can't sleep.
In all honesty, I don't know what the fuck to do with myself. So many things, questions, but so depressingly little of them are actually significant. In the grander scheme of things, all of this doesn't matter.
I wish, once more, that I weren't so unfailingly and ridiculously and annoying ruled by my emotions.