When the Shots Don’t Fall It was my day off, and I have a bad habit of sleeping in till around noon on holidays. Not that I want to waste nearly four hours of my life bed rotting, trying to recover, but I was frankly exhausted. With an irregular schedule, the last time I felt […]
When the Shots Don’t Fall
It was my day off, and I have a bad habit of sleeping in till around noon on holidays. Not that I want to waste nearly four hours of my life bed rotting, trying to recover, but I was frankly exhausted. With an irregular schedule, the last time I felt rested was probably sometime before the start of an increasingly long peak season. Part of it was physical energy, certainly, but another part was simply avoiding the harsh reality of life as an adult. If you’re not working for your job, you’re working for your life. Cleaning, laundry, cooking… or rotting away in some government office waiting room. That’s your reward for getting older.
Just another 50 or so years of monotony until death grants me a permanent slumber. Yay… what an existence to look forward to. I thought about this as I walked to the drug store. Almost as depressing as spending your time doing chores is spending your hard-earned cash on daily necessities.
- Protein Powder
- New Toothbrush
- Mouthwash
- Laundry Detergent
- Razor
- Trimmer
A Helping Hand
On the walk back, I passed by a group of elementary school kids playing by the river. Some were sitting on benches, fishing, catching bugs, or just splashing around. Summer break had started, so they were relatively free—though this is Japan, so homework packets were still a thing.
Pokémon originally came from the Japanese tradition of bug-catching. So it felt fitting when I suddenly heard two girls screaming nearby. Two locals screaming. A Gaijin in the area. Yeah… this can’t be good.
I looked over and saw the two girls backing away from a bug stuck to one of their bikes. It was a praying mantis, hanging awkwardly off the handlebars. I figured I should at least try to be helpful, so I reached out a hand and offered to help the little guy out. Almost like it could tell I meant well, the mantis crawled onto my hand slowly. I moved it to a nearby bush.
The girls looked relieved. They thanked me and went on their way.
My dad used to tell me there’s no point fearing critters that can’t really hurt you. Mantis, jumping spiders—they actually help out by eating the other stuff.
Laundry, Cleaning, and Chores
Life feels like a never-ending loop of laundry, cleaning, trash days, and trying to keep your space from falling into complete chaos. And for all the hype about AI, it’s weird that it still doesn’t do housework. Instead, it’s out here writing music, making art, and thinking in full essays. Wait… doesn’t AI help me edit these blogs?
Anyway. Most of life seems to be a cycle of organizing entropy just enough before everything collapses again—like cosmic Jenga but more expensive. With the busy season, I’ve been putting off these kinds of tasks. Lately, though, I’ve been trying to force myself into at least one cleaning and reset session each week.
I want to fully declutter and reorganize, but I’ve also got a move coming up, so I’m postponing the deep stuff. That said, there are still some small things I’ve been wanting to grab for my desk:
Items for Organizing a Computer Desk
- Monitor Arms
- Speaker Stands
- Longer Display Cables
- Wire Management Tools
Split Focus
In Japanese culture, there’s a value placed on being present, doing one thing with full focus. But let’s be real: organizing your space in silence is hell. So I had Black Mirror running on my monitor while I cleaned.
Could I have been more efficient if I hadn’t split my attention? Probably. But honestly, I doubt I would’ve cleaned at all without something to numb the mental resistance of doing chores on my day off.
Season 7 was surprisingly solid. The last couple of seasons had been a mixed bag, but this one felt like a return to form. I’ve always liked Black Mirror because it doesn’t just show cool tech—it asks questions about what it means for us. Especially when it gets into consciousness stuff. Makes me want to stick around for the future… if I ignore the part where my consciousness is trapped in a decaying body.
Pick Up Basketball
I’ve been trying to go out more—meet new people around hobbies I care about. Meetup has been super helpful for that. That said, like with working out, half the battle is just getting your ass out the door.
I packed up: shoes, water, protein powder, a change of clothes. I was already second-guessing myself on the train ride there. Got to the gym, checked in, laced up. That familiar feeling of tying your shoes before a game… it hit me a little.
Out of Sync
I’d played ball the week before and didn’t do terribly. This time was worse. My body felt clunky, like it wasn’t mine. Turnovers, missed shots, bad passes—it just wasn’t clicking. Defense was fine. Effort’s one of the few things I can still control.
Conditioning needs work. Always has. But playing with others pushes you more than any solo training ever could.
The win, though? My attitude. Thanks to the mental work I’ve been putting in—and reading Kobe’s book—I wasn’t spiraling the same way. Instead of “I suck” it was more like:
- “I need to work on my left.”
- “Protect the ball better during transitions.”
- “Quick dribble into a shot is better than mindlessly pounding the ball.”
- “I’m actually finishing through contact better than before.”
I even found myself driving into contact on purpose to test myself. Small things. I still lost the ball too much, still missed layups, but the mindset shift was real.
I wish I had that mentality as a kid. Youth is wasted on the young.
Recovery
Another part of my routine that needs to be improved is post-workout recovery. Drinking a sports drink and protein is better than I normally do, but I need to have a built-in stretch and cooldown routine. One that includes an ice bath at some point. Age comes for all of us, and without that cyborg body, I was stuck with a dilapidated knee and aging muscles, joints, and tendons. It was going to take a while for me to recover from this, I thought, as I sat exhausted on the train.
Despite the bad play, I was happy with my progress. But part of me still felt like a fraud—reading Kobe’s book, highlighting passages, trying to apply the Mamba Mentality, and then showing up and playing like trash. My performance that evening was embarrassing. My body felt frail, weak, and out of sync. But mentally? I had more tools than before. More awareness. I guess that counts for something.
One Step at A Time
I didn’t play well. My body isn’t what it used to be. But I showed up. I put in effort. I cared enough to want to fix it. Maybe that’s the adult version of progress—doing the thing, even when you’re tired, even when you suck, and still trying to get better anyway.
Growth isn’t always obvious. Sometimes it’s just keeping the promise to show up, again and again, even if all you’ve got to offer is a sore knee and the willingness to try.
