Rye Fields

Honestly, I have no idea what got over me. I think it's the obsession I've been having in recent times about that era which drove me to write my last entry.

Really, I don't know if I can actually call it an obsession. It might be a healthy one, but I've been extremely interested in the 30s. Everything about it, goodness I just think it was the perfect time to have lived life. It's pretty much a challenge for me to put it in words, for I love that era so much I wished one of them auction sites had a time machine on sale. I'd buy one, and destroy it so that I can never come back. I'd go, believe me I'd go.


Life's been pretty zombie-like for me lately. Arguably the biggest tournament, involving 22 grown men chasing after 1 ball, has duly started. It has been fantastic so far. Extremely tiring thanks to time zones, but I've been loving it. It has brought a halt to many things for me. I just wake up everyday to get to that shit hole, waste my entire day with mundane tasks, get back home and gear myself up. If you ever wanted to take a picture with a giant panda here's your chance. I fit the bill for both features, the giant and the eyes. Still, it's been a great time thus far. Sleep can wait, work can wait(cause it ain't work it's shite), the world stops. Cause it's time, to watch 22 grown men, chase after one ball.


Obviously my life hasn't grind to a complete halt because of this massive tournament. It has pretty much been limited to a few activities though, because of the amount of time I have. I have been in a zombie state for a while because of the exhaustion I'm facing mentally. Still though, I tell myself it's alright, because, what I'm going through right now, this 2 years, it has made me realise that time is limited, and that things like long frequent rests can wait for more important things like spending time with loved ones. That's how I look at it. Cause time is, for me now, like oil; Precious, and I have to make sure I use it well before it runs out.


Truth be told, I have been drifting through things in life. As usual nothing's much changed in places that should have, but other than that I've been finding life better for me personally. It can always be so much better that this, my point though is that I have been enjoying myself in the company of people I love. I find it a waste to sit at home and stare at the screen staring back at me. All I wanna do is to go out, and live it out. I've been doing it amply. It should only get better than this.


I've most probably found the perfect piece of art I want inked on me. A line, translated in an ancient language, that means the world to me. A line, I always use no matter what. Yes, that line. It's my line, you know. Touch it not, it's still new. But it wasn't inked on me, the words finally decided to push out from in me. Yes, it's that deep. It's always been in me, I just needed time to realise it. And now, I finally have.


(ego) Vitam amo. si. (ego) Vitam amo.
Nothing's changing it.

Backtrack

Beautiful, wasn't it? The 30s. Where men would head to cabarets after work, accompanied by ladies dressed up elegantly in their dresses, black red gray or gold, any colour that they fancied. Speaking in fluent unspoilt english, with a bit of an accent to reveal their roots. Using words like swell, or gay to express how nice, or happy they were. What a time, the 30s.

I do think that I was born in that era, during my last life. I was enjoying my life back then, with the lifestyle that suited me personally. I don't think I earned alot back then, but I was well liked and respected among my peers and colleagues. I had people recognising me whenever I entered a place, the friendly smile and well-mannered behaviour that I was loved by. I had a temper, only to those who stepped on my shiny black shoes without apologising. I had charisma and charm, to the ladies I mingled with on friday nights.

Family? Don't think I had one. Not one that I could remember. Self-educated, raised by mama in a warm home. Yes now I do recall, I had mama. She always complaint about me not listening in school. I told her school's no good for me, I've got everything out there I just have to learn outside not in this knowledge prison.

I remember her taking me to the parks one day where the circus was in town. We made our way to the games booth where, most of the time, middle-aged men would try to trick you out of a quarter knowing you can't win the prize. I was looking at the booth since we entered, and a sort of pattern was printed in my mind. I saw a trend to hitting one of those bottles off the stack. You've got to aim higher if you're aiming for the center, as your arm naturally twitches due to the weight and surface of the ball. And hit it from an angle so that the spin on the ball would destroy the base, toppling all the bottles resting on top of it. I asked mama if she would follow me there. She was reluctant at first, as I would be using the only quarter I had on me. She gave in though, seeing how much I wanted to try my "luck".

I stepped up, exchanged the quarter for 3 balls. I threw the first one, my practice shot. I gave a real good feel to the ball, to know the right way to throw it. I had to feel the weight too, to know how hard I should throw it. Too light and it will go over too heavy I won't make it past the table. It had the weight of a baseball, just a bit smaller.

I threw my second one, a preliminary throw to the finale. I did manage to hit the stack but it wouldn't budge. The bottles were filled with sand so it added a bit more weight. I managed to knock off two at the top, reducing the weight on the base. I didn't learn physics, but I was wary enough to know that the base is the most important component to any stack. Playin' with my wooden blocks at home taught me that.

I took my third and final ball. I felt nervous. I pictured myself in the Yankee Stadium, pitching against Babe Ruth. He was every boy's dream, so to deny your idol a chance of victory would rank up there as one of the best moments in your life.
I stood on the mount, beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. I had my hand behind me, adjusting my grip to ensure I got the spin that I want. I needed this to be a fast ball, too. I saw Babe staring at me, in me. I didn't flinch. With all the strength I had in this 8 year old arms I threw as hard as I could. I felt this burn near my shoulder as I released the ball.

Silence. I looked on.

The ball was headed for the bottle second from the right. It hit with such force it ricochet off and veered into the left, toppling all the bottles stacked on top of it. I drew a gasp as the tower fell. Mama leaped with joy. I did it, I denied Babe Ruth a grand slam. I denied the best player in the world a chance to lead his team to glory. Me, an 8 year-old. I never felt anything like it. Mama held me in her arms and pinched my cheeks in delight. My trophy?

A Babe Ruth plush doll. I wasn't sure what to think of it, but I was pretty sure Babe didn't want me to add injury to insult.

Inspiration

Tonight, I'm heartbroken.