It's Not Love

Three posts in one day? You can definitely tell that I'm supposed to be studying for exams.

I was HOed last night. I'm acutally still being HOed right now. DR. HOed, that is. My shoulders are still so freakin' sore. Mom says that I should call our masseuse, but I think my shoulders have reached the point where a masseuse is no longer sufficient therapy. I think it's time for physio, I swear they're always so bad after volleyball that it almost might be time to retire. Yeah, whatever. That's like asking Boo to give up singing, or Pablo to stop playing soccer--it's not going to happen.

But then that's what happens when you're passionate about something. It sits way high up there on your list of priorities in life. You spend a lot of your time pursuing your passions. You don't let passions go easily; especially not without a fight. It's almost like love. If you really love someone, you're going to spend as much time with them as you can, you're not likely to pass up an opportunity to go visit, and you're definitely not going to give up on them for just any little reason. That's how you know you're passionate about something. You become an aficianado; an admirer, a follower.

Everyone should have something that they can be passionate about. And I'm not talking about another person that they can direct affection at. Everyone should have some sort of outlet--be it a sport, a hobby, a game, but something--that they can turn to when nothing else seems to be going their way. Better than a friend, it's something that you can pass the time with and feel better about yourself after doing so. Sure I can't play an all out game without 11 other people but I can definitely volley a ball in the confines of my room and feel my tension slide away, just like Boo can sing in the shower or Pablo can play keep-ups in the same way.

People are not as reliable as things can be. When our friends fail us, we can turn to this passion to offer support. When family can't be there, we have this passion to lend comfort. And when our lovers leave, this passion remains to give a sense of relief. Understandably, a passion cannot necessarily offer advice when confused, or comforting words when lost, or any vocality for that matter, but sometimes the last thing we need is to be spoken to; a presence is more than enough. The Castaway had Wilson as his only companion and he survived the trial of his life.

On a bored day, give me volleyball. On an energetic day, give me the courts. On a lonely day, give me the beach nets. On an angry day, just leave me with a ball and a wall--they're cure enough for me without ever having to utter a word. Everyone needs something to be passionate about--love may be deep and tender, but passion is powerful and boundless. I'd rather be strong than soft.