Tragic Relief

"If it's any consolation, you already make me happy."

"Then I now have a reason to smile tonight."

Another time and place.

While You Were Sleeping

I think you're sleeping.

I hope you sleep well, and that when you wakr up, you feel better.

Because like I've been telling you all this time, you're someone who means alot to me, more than anything or anyone.

And there's a reason for that, many reasons.

But i've told you all of them already, yet I feel you still don't know.

I'm here, if you ever feel that you need anything.

Pensive

Been a whirlwind past couple of days, so far. Pizza and teriyaki too, which is always good, but food aside it's been eventful, if without mention. Things have happened which weren't expected or planned or envisioned, and while matters aren't at their best states - as far as I'm concerned - they could be much, much, worse.

Makes me wonder though, if that's even an acceptable attitude. Should I be settle for a result that leaves things just ok?

A few people said recently, and I do agree that, everyone is entitled to pursue their own happiness.

I'd like to think that too, though often times you have to think about things beyond your own world and life.

Hm.

Joke

Sometimes when I try and be serious, when I'm more serious than I've ever been, people don't get it.

Not everything is a joke, and sometimes what I've already said what I wanted, though maybe it isn't what I should have.

Oh The Movie Never Ends

Someone dear to me said recently that I should write a book or movie, seeing as how I am "full of cheesy lines". While I'm sure (or I hope) that it was meant as a friendly compliment, often times I wonder about things to do with things like that.

Vague, I know.

Alot of things going on now, if it were to be made a movie, the plot would be so convoluted I wouldn't know where to begin.

Probably with the simple question of "How are you?"

Something quite often overlooked, but a question that can mean and reveal so much, both in the manner of asking and answering.

Quite a few people around me facing one problem or another in their own little movies nowadays. Issues with space and time, problems unsaid and unspoken, melancholy vibes, stress and anxiety.

Sometimes I feel like the things I tend to wrest with in my head aren't all that serious, seeming trivial when compared to how others are. I can smile, laugh, joke that "that's what she said" and go off on ice-cream and cookie adventures, yet some say I've become broody. Tsk. I hate party-poopers.

I catch myself from time to time in the midst of doing something I know isn't smart or right or both. Yet I keep on going back to it, knowing it won't end well and that it's all for naught. Why? I tell myself that I need to stop, to forget it, to get past this thing. Then it happens again, every day.

I ask questions and dodge others, offer advice but don't take my own. What the hell am I doing?

How are you, really, really?

Fore!

About a year ago, I wrote a little something about Manchester United thoroughly whipping the boys of the Emirates. This time, though, the old enemy managed to rally and romp to a thumping win over Porto, and without their talismanic captain Cesc Fabregas.

Like their bitter rivals, United also faced a recent winner of the European Cup in an aging AC Milan, though most will agree that the difference in quality between the Rossoneri and the Dragoes are plain to see. Brilliantly-named forward Hulk notwithstanding, I'd bet that most fans will agree that the Italians are a much sterner test. Yes, Arsenal had to come from behind, but it was their own doing anyway.

Anyway.

The big story going into the mouthwatering tie at Old Trafford was the return of icon David Beckham, of course. Disappointingly, perhaps, he only made a short cameo at near the end of the fixture, and that when it seemed academic. He did, however, provide Milan with perhaps their best chances; a quite stunning volley and a teasing cross which Inzaghi contrived to miss from inside the six-yard box.

In the end, as was expected, Wayne Rooney saw that the Red Devils were headed (pun, see!) to the quarter-finals, and as so aptly pointed out by others before me, it is telling that among all the comparisons to another former United number 7, the expensively-assembled side from Madrid were knocked out by another team they pried a starlet from with the promise of success and wealth. Ronaldo, Kaka, Benzema and friends will be watching from the stands, I'm sure, when the showpiece final is held at the Bernabeu in a couple of months.

As far as the actual match went, much praise has been heaped on both Sir Alex Ferguson and Park Ji-Sung. I refuse to say Ji-Sung Park, or, as a certain "pundit" calls him, Sun Ji Park, obviously mixing him up with Sun Ji Hai, his former team mate at Man City. And he gets paid to talk like that?

Anyway.

Wily veteran, cagey old war dog, crazy Scot. We all have our own nicknames for the United gaffer, but at Old Trafford and pit against relative newcomer Leonardo, he showed why he has put so much faith in his Korean midfielder. Throughout the entire 90 minutes, I don't think Pirlo got more than one through ball to assist in a decent attacking move. How Leonardo must have wished he was back on the pitch to match his dazzling talents against the likes of what has been a shaky United back-line.

Yet the United defence held firm, in no small part thanks to the non-contribution of "The Hunter" Klas-Jan Huntelaar. If this was anything to go by, he might be hunting for a new club soon enough. Fans of Liverpool berate Dirk Kuyt's tendency to shoot straight at the 'keeper when presented with a chance (though it trickles in for some reason), but at least the pseudo-winger manages to get a few chances on target. His Dutch counterpart, unwanted by an aforementioned Spanish giant, did less than Berbatov, and the laid-back Bulgarian only came on in the second half, with United comfortable.

Gary Neville and young deputy Rafael both did superbly, and I now (and have been) question those who called the Brazilian's earlier showing against Milan troubled. I though he coped well against Ronaldinho, who was another non-factor this time. Evra as always was dependable, providing solid cover and an attacking thrust down the left to compliment the ever-surprising Nani. Vidic and Ferdinand, for so long mainstays and mammoths in the United backline, nullified the three-pronged attack of the opposition. Hopefully (for United fans) they can both stay fit and avoid suspensions.

But Pato and Nesta were missing, detractors of United cry. True. But they both played in the reverse fixture, and United won that one. And United were without Wes Brown, Anderson, Ryan Giggs, Owen Hargreaves, Michael Owen and Michael Carrick.

And still brushed aside a team that is oozing with talent, despite the fact that most of them are fast-approaching the time where one considers his pension.

In a season where Wayne Rooney seems to be carrying the burden of launching United towards the goal of domestic and European success, one would be wise to take a close look at what the whole team is capable of, when Sir Alex gets his thinking cap straight. A back four shutting out a two-time Player of the Year. A midfield able to be steely and stylish at the same time, using pace, power or panache when the situation calls for it. And a forward which opponents have called the best in the world, complete, and awesome.

Four-nil.

Attics

Say you're at the door of a burning building, on the verge of collapse. Before you lie three rooms, each equidistant from where you stand, and each holding one individual. From where you are, you can see clearly who is in which room. You have only enough time, courage, strength and luck to run in and save ONE person. What do you do?

1. Save your elderly mother, who has raised you and showered you with love since infancy

2. Save a young, enterprising, aspiring scientist who has recently announced that he has formulated a cure for cancer, HIV, SARS and herpes. This cure is cheap, readily available and proven to work for everyone. Unfortunately, there is no copy of this miracle cure save for what is in his mind.

3. Save a newborn baby, who is otherwise healthy and unrelated to you

4. Watch, recording and post it on YouTube

5. Flee!

Go.

A Hard Drive

I've always been a computer addict or junkie, whatever you want to call it. I remember messing around on an ancient piece of equipment back when I stayed at Jalan Punai, when you still had to type win to get to Windows. 3.1.

That was quite epic.

This is actually the first laptop I've owned, though I did have a desktop before that. Many people don't exactly approve of the Sony Vaio, but it's served me well enough for the last three years or so, broken letter "E" aside. But then the hard disk died on me.

I was, of course, gutted. Losing all my music, including the stuff from Boyce Avenue and Norwegian Recycling was bone-crunchingly annoying, and right now my collection is still in the single digits. Piracy, yay.

I also lost every school assignment that I've compiled and worked on the past few years. Research papers, videos, presentations, designs, recordings, essays, articles, lists, spreadsheets, documents. Argh.

Photos are alright, I guess, with the advent of Facebook. Everything is online anyway, so they're easily replaced.

No real video games of note other than Team Fortress 2 and Football Manager 2010. The first has already been replaced, thankfully, but the latter's savegame is a lost cause. Alas, my heroics with Darlington will go to waste.

But thinking about everything that's gone now, I realize that among the comics and MP3's and movies and documents and viruses, I've lost something that is truly dear and irreplaceable to me. A long, long, time ago (or what seemed it), someone very special to me made me something. As far as I know, there's only the one (soft) copy of that thing.

Or there was.

Gone now, damneth.