Currently Playing: Amos Lee - Colors.
How can something seem so plausible at the time and so idiotic in retrospect?
Today is not a good day to look back on and reflect upon.
I had some cringe-worthy moments, and remembering how I was today makes my skin crawl. God, I was so loud. Louder than usual, at least. And just all over the place, with thoughts and words that didn’t match up, didn’t fit in, didn’t quite suit.
I can’t recall today without grimacing. What was I thinking, going about the way I did? I kicked propriety out the window and sped from one scene to another, rushed from one script into another, and though mirth is no crime, that costume I tried on today just wasn’t and isn’t mine to wear.
I apologise for anything said or done out of character today. My brain took leave without warning. Again.
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To leave the past weekend unmentioned would be hypocrisy on my part. I refuse to remain under the guise of being apolitical any longer, but allow me a few days before I let my personal comments on the General Elections surface. I’m in no proper position or state of mind to give a satisfactory opinion so I’m going to let time help me form my words. Delicate matters deserve careful words.
Another almost as newsworthy matter to mention is undoubtedly the combined losses of two football giant teams to small-time underdogs in the FA Cup. A few weeks ago, I declared that the word ‘Barnsley’ wasn’t to be uttered in my presence or within ear shot. It gradually developed to join my acceptable swear vocab list, but the hate didn’t last. I accept that Barnsley outclassed the Reds the day they edged them out. Full stop.
And in a twisted turn of events, I am rooting for them all the way to the finals. I’m a sucker for the underdogs - why do you think I fell for Liverpool 12 years ago?
Because everyone else around me didn’t.
The Champion’s League 2nd leg is on tonight. Even with an advantage over Inter aggregate-wise, I hope there won’t be any complacency on the pitch by the lads. Speaking of, guess which red-black team got knocked out at San Siro last week? Hehehe. Justice has been served, at least when it comes to wiping off that self-satisfied smirk off Gattuso’s face. I have a problem with the man. Sorry eh Mizan, it’s nothing personal against the team itself. All’s fair in love and war and football…
I have this sudden fear that I’m in danger of having to eat my words later on if the Reds don’t make it to the final 8.
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Resolved: I’m going to work on improving my BM. The other day I scolded Noi in the language, and she laughed at me. No way am I going to let myself stay deficient this way. What am I without my mother tongue? It’s humiliating to have such an atrocious standard of BM. No more, no more.
I haven’t done a somersault in ages. And I have this sudden fantastic urge to go on a swing. It’s one of the few things from when I was a child that I can never really let go off completely. Think there are any out there that can still hold me?
Let me know.
Enough said here.
