Contradictory, that I should love the unnoticed passing of the day and loath the swift passage of time, as if the two were disconnected. I glanced up to see 2:05 pm on the clock when I thought it was only 12 :05 pm. The days are rushing together now, today felt just like yesterday. Soon enough, I will no longer be able to comfort myself with the idea that Saturday is still four days away. This is the time to take in home in slow motion, to not push my dad's nerves, to wash the dishes for my mom...

The Games is not kind to the older population. The girls in the women's gymnastics team will always be 16 because year after year, their replacements have the same physique, the same smile, the same ponytail, and the same yellow and red uniform. It is only me who is getting older. I still remember the gold medalist from Atlanta and her floor exercise. I saw her again last night, the same jump, the same spin, the same glow, the same spirit. Only the name is different. But then again, what is in a name...

There is nothing to do sometimes when you're having a bad day except to look onto tomorrow, but even "tomorrow" can be permeated by the day before. My happy blurb about the cute, cute diver I discovered with my first name will have to be put on hold. Instead, I look for words to describe an era, if short-lived, yet still monumental to me who cared.

It is true I didn't even know about Sidney until a week ago (where was I?!), it is true that the world championships also slipped my radar, but you mustn't think of me unqualified to be ever-so-proud of our men. Yes, I see the irony, people like me who laid on the pressure that perhaps collapsed their dreams in the first place now lament their loss. Their loss. It is just a game, no capitalization, no exclamation mark. It matters so to me because it matters even more to them. Theirs is a story of sweat and blood that will continue, if not here, then at Home.

I hope for redemption, missing the point once more. The age-old question of contentment and its elusiveness. It is hard to come by because we belive that the end justifies the means. We look for the end-product, anxious for the outcome, and erase the process, which is where true happiness lies... Maybe?

My boss asked me whether I will work till Friday. What a perfect opportunity to say, No sir, I will stop on Wednesday. Instead, I said I will work till Thursday. Is one day really enough to pack? Why was the first thing that popped out of my mouth not the truth? Guilt, I think, knowing my experiments should have been better. I take everything too personally.

I have wonderful friends who leave nice comments on my blog. Krystle, I will do better. I also have "friends" who don't care enough to register in order to leave me a note. =)