Knock of the stones
Lost in nostalgic thought, involuntarily I purred Stevens' Sing out on the 'steps of success' - the one place that's close to the lab and a secluded place where the odds of about 50 people to know my existence/observation is one to fifty (:D Not many people like to climb stairs in this modern elevator era). Anyways, as I revised the night I attended a call from India at the same spot looking for the spark that paddled me through a hazy river then, I sung out again involuntarily. But this time, I was noticed. Three ladies, whom by the strollers seating children, they were pulling, I understood that the creche is back on track with the weather smiling its sunny side up. Good mood just pressed me into following the migration.
A few minutes later, the children were exercised into walking. A few ten yards into the routine, an afro-american child (why the hell am I classifying children with their color? F*&%).... rephrasing.... A few ten yards into the routine a beautiful looking angel with a dimple, tripped over her own feet, fell on her knees, hurt herself and started crying. Strangely all the children followed her and started to wail out. With none of the ladies efforts proving to alleviate the ruccus, I stepped in. Just went to the 1 ft tall group, stood between them, smiled in disbelief of what I was attempting and hizzed 'Shhhhhhhhh.......' A few pair of wet eyes met mine, followed by some volume down of the 'waaaahhhhhh', a few more dozen eyes met, and finally 'a stranger is here' stare on an average finally muted the humdum (sniffles existed as echoes). I just walked off nodding to one of the teachers. The walk back to the department, and over the 'steps of success', and down the inner stairs to the lab was infinitely pleasant. I just had the spark back.
Many a handful of pleasantaries uplifted my spirits till practice came up. With three years of experience in the belt, I knew exactly what shots I had to concentrate for the weekend game against our friendly yet aggresive neighbors. I missed both the games last season travelling to lakesites and races believing that the team can run over this mild team (which they proved wrong). Frustratingly, all the guys who like playing satires with me off the field showed that spirit on my practice set too. With no reds flying far or high, the new frustrated captain adviced me to play straight. I lost all cool and shouted on top of my voice on him as well as the bowlers for screwing up my efforts to boost my confidence for the game. Only the last 8 balls of the practice was delivered to where I wanted to exercise the whole time. Although I ended up chilling eventually and apologizing to the team, on the inside I was rock bottom in confidence due to this event. Interestingly (to the team) I gave the keeping gloves to Russy in 23 games complaining on a palm injury on the weekend game and got a zero, attempting the shot I should have been made to practice for on Thursday. Though I was mad on self for self downing my confidence level, the whole team at the end of the victorious game apologized for not being to my expectation. Good news - they ended up pulling my leg again during the buffet later. (Swear if I was a teen I would have started a food fight in the restaurant)
Three hours later, as I and a couple other friends grandma'ed more likes it/hates it clues to the new guys, I was offered an information that threw me off balance. While I gave a plausible reason to decline the offer, my already tired mind rolled over the concept of the reason to be the key ingredient to be left unoffered in the first instance. The mind gambled over some concepts but the heart (as well as the physically exhausted body) stuck to its excuses to keep me continuing the game. I knew that it was not my time yet (or will it ever). The next several hours was spent in fountaining fun at the Fourth Street lively walk, Panera bread photoshoots, sharing cotton candy, rooting giant baloons, nostalging out previous versions, and finally waiting for the thunder to rumble out of the connecting bridge. I had my moments of fun, nostalgia, and intro-cum-extrospection as the fireworks reflected over the river. The next few hours with the shaky and bored down Rutsy was interesting as the spark burst into flames trying to keep him animated.
But the best part of the enlightenment was during the journey back to Lex. As my shoulder ached in pillowing a tired soul, I understood how stupid and cavalier one can be. All the confusion that generated there after made sense. By the time I crashed, I knew I lived a good life not taking advantage of situations. I knew I lost, but lost fair and square. Nine hours later, I woke with the smile of experiencing the best dream in a dozen weeks. And I saw my cell and smiled again.....
Off the inferno: The whole Thunder over Louisville was an effort to meet Jay. But it turned out to be a no chance failure with him on the Indiana bank and I on the Kentucky bank. My swimming cramps couldn't hold against the river current. So I stuck to plain ol' time with other people whom I enjoyed to be friends for the occasion. I want to be with Jay and show him the colors of the light at night sometime in the future. Spent a few minutes on the Friday swing with a very concerned and caring sis of mine. Those few minutes were the first minutes I opened up a teeny weeny bit in months. Today I spent a few chat lines with another friend-cum-sis who wants to be strangely an ostrich for the moment. Both of us were in the same page and both shared the same mindset of expecting a quicker and better future. The conference is in three days, and I'm still feeling pathetic about my interests in it. I have 18 result slides out of the 12 minute talk (the best and most results in my PhD career), but somehow I feel off the 'lifes plan' routine. And my advisor can sense my bereavement and he too doesn't understand what the reason is. And finally, its time to go and pull my funny roomie of his lair to teach me flash for making an animation for my presentation... (Time to grow up to become a post doc candidate I guess)
And finally for the first time in 25+ odd attempts I noticed this dialogue from Private Ryan
Pvt Ryan: I can't see my brothers faces. I've been trying... Is that bad?
Cpt Miller: You've got to think of a context......
My immediate two cents: To be or not be Ryan is the question that cannot be answered even by time... The answer still lurks in the open to be found..... And it's not easy.....