Taking chances are never easy. But if you can take bitter disappointment, success tastes ever so much sweeter.

Tomorrow is the big day, and my weary juniors are going into battle again.

They're not quite in top form. Their top form was last week. Damn. And they have a chance of getting champion.

Actually, they still do. But I gotta give in my part tomorrow. Some appropriate exercises to get them revved up, excited and feeling fresh again.

Oh my gosh. If I go with what just ran through my head just now, they are going to suffer a bad case of fits.

Figuratively, of course.

Well, my face is not exactly in the best condition, and I've no idea if I can look as good as last week, but I'm trying my chance again tomorrow as well. We'll see what happens.

In one of those phases again. The one involving losing hold on religious faith. Not that you really want to hear about it, but this is my blog, and while my main goal is supposedly to keep all of you interested in what's going on in my life, I prefer to get a few kicks out of it by irritating you every now and then.

Hey, it's an art. I gotta irritate you enough to amuse me and still keep your attention.

One of my juniors is lovesick. Tell me what I'm going to do about him. I believe you've more or less figured out that despite all my theories I'm no expert in this sort of thing. And anyway, I threw a lot of my theories out the window less than a year ago.

I should start writing poems and songs again. Maybe that's why I've been so unstable. I haven't been channeling my emotions, frustrations and thoughts someplace else. And since I have limited control over relationships, my chosen outlet should be poetry, play, song and dance. And jogging. And swimming and blading. Haven't been doing those for a while. My weight agrees.

I haven't gone bowling in a while. Haven't gone diving in a while.

Where has my life gone... I want my whaleshark. Another manta would be nice, too.