The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

First contact was made through email and was very slow.  As in, a new email every other day.  Thus, setting up a meeting time took almost as long as getting in contact with Amber in the first place (Amber, if you haven’t already assumed so, is my conversation partner). 

Eventually we got a time pinned down.  Monday night, 8:30, in the BLUU.  To make sure we had some way of finding each other once there, I emailed her my phone number. 

Now directly before that time I had Quidditch practice out in the Commons, so after practice I rushed back to the dorm to get a shower and I ended up getting to Market Square almost ten minutes late.  

Amber had not replied to my last email before I had to leave, so I wandered around up there for a good five minutes, with no idea where she was.  Eventually I grabbed a glass of apple juice, because I wasn’t hungry, and sat down to watch football.  I did this for around the next fifteen minutes, hoping that she would either call or text me.  Once I had finished my apple juice and seen the Broncos score a couple touchdowns, I made a few more laps around the Square before deciding to head back to the dorm. 

When I got back I opened up my email on my laptop, because for some reason it won’t work on my phone.  At that point I saw two emails from Amber sitting in my inbox, informing me that I had given her the wrong phone number.  I had put a five instead of a six.  Most unfortunate. 

Now equipped with her number, I ran back to the BLUU—because, surprisingly she was still there thirty minutes after our scheduled meeting time—back up the stairs to Market Square and made a few more laps around.  Still couldn’t find her.  So I called her and found out that she was downstairs.  In the BLUU.  Not Market Square.  The BLUU.  In which Market Square happens to reside on the second floor.  For some reason my brain decided to make the BLUU mean Market Square, creating a lot of unnecessary confusion on my part.

Having finally resolved this issue, I found Amber sitting outside Union Grounds and we sat down for our chat.

Over the next hour we covered pretty much all the basic topics for a first meeting.  Names, obviously, family, cultural differences, likes, hobbies, all that good junk.  I learned about China’s policy on the number of children in families while Amber learned the term “jet lag”—by which I also found out that China is thirteen hours ahead of Texas.  We also found we shared a mutual enjoyment of Harry Potter, although that’s about all we shared as far as movies and television went.

Amber’s English was very good.  She could make herself clearly understood in most instances and I think she could understand what I was saying.  Of course, she may have simply been extremely polite and made it seem like she understood it all.  In that case though, she would have to be a very good guesser on some of our topics. 

Either way it was a most interesting discussion and I am glad I was able to find her, even though it took me far longer than it should have.  I enjoyed the glass of apple juice though. 

Reflections on the Game of Ping Pong

Yes, I do believe I’m going to write a reflective post on the valuable things that ping pong has taught me.

Why ping pong? Well, mainly because I like ping pong. Ping pong is fun. I am saying ping pong far too much for the first fifty words of this post.

So this game—y’know, the one that involves a net, paddles, two players, and a ball—it has taught me things. Like if you serve the ball low you get a lot more speed and can skim the net much closer. Also I suck at returning lobs.

However, on the more touchy feely side, when I took the time to consider something other than the way I was hitting the ball, it opened the door to my opponent’s soul. Well maybe not that deep, but you would be surprised how much you can learn about other people during a good match of ping pong.

There are intense players who don’t say much, then the polar opposites who vocalize every emotion. There are the people who make excuses when they mess up a point, then the ones who degrade themselves (usually in fun) for screwing up. There are the people who insult you when they’re winning and insult you even more when they’re losing, then the people who compliment you on your shots, good or bad.

Each type gives insight into that person’s character. Nothing absolute, of course. I would not presume to make any major judgment calls based on a game of ping pong. But windows are most definitely opened.

Take the intense players. They are generally the highly competitive ones who are playing to win and win alone. The people who are yell, win or lose, still want to win (everyone wants to win) but they are more inclined to have fun with it.

The excuse makers are the ones who have trouble acknowledging their own flaws in competitive settings. The self-degraders call their own shortcomings so that others do not, but also, to an extent, in order to justify their mistake.

The insulters, even if they’re “joking”, are not that fun to play with because of the mindset that if they’re not on top, no one should be on top. But those who compliment are, obviously, awesome, because they care more about keeping the game fun than dominating every aspect.

Looking at these I would place myself as a mix of self-degrading and complimenting. I am extremely competitive, but I want to have fun with the game and the person I’m playing. When I make mistakes, especially the same ones over and over, I tend to bash myself. In fun. I’m not a masochist. If you score one on me I’ll like as not say good on ya mate (because I am Australian).

Now these are not the only types of ping pong players out there. Each person brings a different aspect to the game. These were simply a few general types that I’ve encountered in my time playing.

I suppose the moral of this story, the life lesson, is that who we are comes out in pretty much everything we do. Whether it be ping pong, a job or even one of those two minute conversations with random strangers. People can come away with darn accurate first impressions, and those stick.

So check yourself. See what type of person you think you are, and what type of person you might be acting like.

You really should do it. And not just because I’m telling you, but because I’m telling you and I’m Australian.

I am.

            Honest.