The Return of The King.

He's back with vintage style. I cried this morning when I woke up to realize what I thought I dreamt wasn't just a dream.

http://www.espn.co.uk/football/sport/video_audio/130101.html

Let's rant. Social networks.

Oh, I see you've made yourself breakfast. Unless it's something along the lines of chocolate covered chicken with cereal bits sprinkled on top I don't really care about your mediocre meal. Looks like another person broke their bones again, brace yourselves for the incoming spam of pictures of their impairment. Which leads to an unnecessary flooding of my news feed. Which shouldn't even be called a news feed anymore. I used to think the news was important, with all the bullshit they spout nowadays, that idea of news-to-actually-give-a-fuck-about has gone with it. All I see on there now is your constant spamming of reposting 9gag posts that seem to humor you. If I wanted to see 9gag posts I would have gone to 9gag myself. You don't have to presume your doing everyone a favor by telling them about something they've probably already seen. Since 9gag has become such a trend amongst the people I know. Visiting the site and laughing at their jokes has lost some of its appeal ever since it got so mainstream. If you really want to steal someone's soul, there's an art to it; don't go around reposting on facebook. That's just annoying.

You might say I'm a hypocrite for having my own facebook, twitter and foursquare account. You may be right, or I could tell you that besides foursquare (which I rarely ever use because it's apparently a waste of effort), I only use facebook and twitter to make it easier for people to keep in touch with me. I go on facebook to check the groups I'm associated with for updates. I don't look at my news feed because there's too much irrelevant nonsense there that it kind of wastes my time to try and keep updated.

I don't want to know what you're doing for breakfast unless you intend to invite me. I don't want to know what you think of a 9gag posts else I would have asked you myself. I don't want to see how good your photography skills are at taking pictures of the sunset or your dinner plate. What annoys me most about Facebook and Twitter is that stupid people think that what they have to say is worth listening to just because someone else liked what they said. GET THE FUCK OUT! Things like tumblr annoy the fuck out of me, I mean, if people put just as much effort into writing a book, they'd have written something useful instead of making a picture that supposedly means something.

There's a lot more where all that came from, I just am not really bothered to say much about it anymore. I just wish communication could be made easier without the use of such methods which make people think they're smarter than they really are.

Taking your breath away with every passing... pass.

Have you ever had a dream, a dream so beautiful that you wake up wanting to go back to sleep, relive it in your slumber, hoping it will last just another 5 minutes just so you can soak in the moment and let it set for a bit?

Have you ever had a dream, a dream so petrifying you awake choking and stifling back tears thankful that the tragedy is over, so much so that gratitude takes over and reminds you what a blessed life you have?

I have, I've been through both. To be honest I wouldn't mind going to sleep tonight to re-dream either one of those kinds of dreams because a dream is always just going to be a dream, never permanent. At most the only way it could affect you in reality would be to open your eyes to something you've neglected way back at the last visible stretch of land on the horizon of your mind. You'll never have to worry about the boogeyman breaking his way out of your mind to torment you in real life, nor can you hope for her to still be there, lying next to you when you realize you've opened your eyes.

Now, how I wish that could happen. If only I could open my eyes and all of this would fade away, into a distant part of my brain, as a memory, one I would hold firmly as a sworn enemy with my grip firmly around it's neck to make sure it never comes anywhere near me, never giving it the opportunity to be a part of my reality. But that isn't the case. I'm bound to it now, and I will no longer be free of it. I will no longer go on in life without being reminded of its very presence, lingering like a foreboding shadow hung over my head and casting its silhouette making sure the future is never as bright as it once could have been.

It looks like I'll never be physically capable of playing anymore, not without suffering the consequences, which to be honest, seem to get harder and harder to live with every passing moment. My passion is but a distant memory. One that if by some miracle, I would not be able to find again. Life is hollow now, there isn't anything worth living for at the moment and I've only myself to blame for it. For now, it's goodbye. I promise I won't forget the feeling I used to have. That feeling of breaking free from the daily shackles of life.

I'm all alone now.

More than I could ever feel.

All I want is to play football.

Is that so much to ask?

Four hundred and twelve things that to me, are just as bad as having a pinecone shoved up my ass.

Part 1

1. Marines

2. Assholes who park at obscure angles

3. Patch 1.4 Infestor nerf

4. Drivers who cruise in the right lane

5. People who think that Stephenie Meyer has any ounce of literacy skill

6. People who misunderstand #5 and think I hate Twilight. I don't, I just find it very bad. If you think I'm wrong, fuck you.

7. Opening a stream just to see the streamer say goodbye

8. Whiny twitter feeds

9. Generic spam messages

10. Tweets asking for RTs

11. Posts that ask you repost to show you bother about something. If I had to explain this, you'd better be prepared for me to shove my size 12 foot up your nose so I can use my small toe to flick some sense into your brain. Yes, my small toe.

12. If you play Terran. Fuck you.

13. Pompous fanatics

14. Mother fucking Banshees

15. When I'm pissed, your happiness. I'm sorry but I can't give a fuck right now

16. Actually needing to study for English

Study a little, Play harderer.

I'm aware that writing is no longer as easy as it used to be. Feelings and thoughts can't just flow out of my fingers like they used to, comes with the hiatus obviously. However, Nujabes does help a lot if you have any trouble getting inspired. Dead people tend to have that influence, don't you think? Whoever 'you' are or is. Yeah, he died, shame really. Japan tsunami.

I'm proud to say that I've gotten into Platinum league. Gave myself the challenge of reaching Diamond within the next 3 or 4 weeks. Although, doing so has and will be detrimental to my social and educational life. Getting into Platinum itself already required me to throw a lot of time away just spamming those ladder games. Repeatedly going all in on 1 or 1 and a half base economy. Since I'm having trouble connecting thoughts together, how about I don't do that and just say whatever comes to my mind. This way I get to update my blog, for the sake of it, and still clear the rust on what passion I used to have for writing.

Futsal earlier tonight was awesome, to a certain extent, my knee still hurts a little but that will probably be an ever lasting side effect until the day I lose a substantial amount of weight. Competition this weekend, going to be playing keeper because my knee is giving me problems. Really feel I've improved as a shot stopper. My reading of the opponent and being able to 'metagame' them especially. I have no idea what the level of play is going to be like so I'll just hope for the best and try to not concede any stupid goals. I'm standing with the theory that if I'm able to get my head into the game and keep my focus at it's peak throughout, I won't be beaten. Obviously that's not quite a strong pillar for sports but I think keepers require the least physical exertions and only need to read the game to come out on top. That was a lot of bullshit.

This post contained no literacy skills nor did it exude any drop of creativity. But it's still a post so I'll leave it at that and continue weighing out the reasons why I no longer know how to love anymore. Goodnight.

Thank you, Francesc Fabregas.

I write this with the shattered heart of a glassy-eyed boy as he looks on past the death of a childhood comfort.

There once was a time, a young naive boy existed, filled of hope and the foolishness to believe that the possibility of something miraculous happening was never beyond doubt. This young boy would go through his life ordinarily, enduring his first-world hardships and thinking to himself, "It's not all that bad". No matter how much pain he suffered, albeit only existing in the form of guilt he put unto his own shoulders, at the end of the day, he'd still sleep with an easy conscience. No matter how grotesquely horrible he'd form judgements of himself at what a bad job he did at living life, when the cows came home, everything was erased and forgiven. No matter what he had to go through, good or bad, it was always replaced by something almost magnificent.

Having gone through the eventful day of being at school and behaving like normal kids should, he'd come home during the weekend and thank God for what lay ahead. For every weekend this young boy would gaze at the tele, in awe and respect for this man, not much older than himself. I say man for the way the latter has lived up to his billing, silenced his critics and made a name for himself amongst the big guns themselves.

I'd live through the week and survive purely on the knowledge that when the time comes, and the ball is rolled for kick-off, I could savor the moment and breath in the colors of red and white. Never have I been prouder than when I don that kit. There's no way to express how much goodness was pumping through my veins just by watching them play. Those flashes of brilliance and touches of sheer quality fill me up with so much adrenaline and hype that I'd have to grab something, be it a rolled up pair of socks, a cushion or even the football itself and start running circles in my living room reenacting what spectacular feat I had just witnessed on the tele. I'd tell myself, "One day, that'll be me". Who cares about the haters, if there was anything I wanted more in this world was to be able to have the opportunity to do what they were doing, to live how they lived, to express myself how they did. It would be the grandest gift from God.

Although many have graced the field, many have had their names echoed within households across the globe, there is only one out there that can inspire me beyond all else.

I still remember the night I first saw him play. My family and I went to London for a week after my dad had to attend a seminar in France for a month. Everyone else was asleep in the apartment, except me of course. I heard there was an Arsenal game on that night so I switched on the television to see if any of the channels were broadcasting. It was a Carling Cup match with Manchester City. It was 2004 back then. Arsene would use the CC as an outlet for blooding the younger players. That night he went with Manuel Almunia in goal, a back four consisting of Emmanuel Eboue, Johan Djourou, Phillipe Senderos and Gael Clichy. In the midfield there was Jermaine Pennant, Francesc Fabregas, Mathieu Flamini and Robin Van Persie. Finally, spearheading the attack were Danny Karbassiyoon and Quincy Owusu-Abeyie. It was the first time I ever laid eyes on that young team and watching them dominate the match against seasoned pros made me fall in love.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=enE5CF1zckg

That pass from Fabregas in an instant made me a fan of his. I wanted to play just like him, selfless. How he'd create the opportunities for others to finish. Not until later in his career did he begin taking some chances for his own. There was those spur of goals against Spurs and Man City, a couple of long range piledrivers, that last minute equalizer against Liverpool, the brace against Everton on the opening day of the season, that cracker in the San Siro, his cool finish into the bottom corner against Juventus that penalty against Barcelona to level the score at 2-2. The list goes on and on. Not to forget the countless assists he managed to rack up over the years.Those moments forever imprinted into my memory as moments of joy and triumph. Almost my entire footballing life I've been looking up to Fabregas. The image of him donning the Arsenal red and white always will be a chapter in my childhood. It's so coincidental the year I turn 18 that Fabregas moves on from Arsenal. No longer will I be able to watch him in awe as he picks out that master class pass to split open defenses for a fellow gooner.

For the past 8 years I have grown up following you, supporting you, wanting to play exactly like you and now, you move on, no longer in the image of what my childhood once pictured you as. All the best at your new club. Thank you so much for giving me these priceless memories that symbolize the amazing football I have witnessed as a young boy that kept me dreaming constantly. Thank you, Cesc.

Your logic is broken

That's the best title I could come up with because....

just because I guess. to hell with proper writing, this is going to be a rant for the sake of an update because I haven't done one in seventeen hundred fifty thousand million megazillibillitrillion years. I did not just make that up. It's a real word, honestly.

[Side note : I would like to get Linkin Park's new album]

And to continue today's theme of spewing shit out of my mind in the form of grotesquely random thoughts, school is finally over, high school. Yes I know this is outdated, not that I care what you think (and no, I'm not saying I don't care because I think you care enough to bother about what I say that you would actually be offended. GTFO please you pompous prick). There are bigger things in life than your emotions. Nope, I'm not referring to my humongous ego because I'm a humble person. Humble people don't actually admit they're humble, that's the irony. So if you ever come across someone who is that much of a douche, keep it in the back of your head that they are in fact.... pompous pricks.

Back to the point which wasn't really a point to begin with but I wanted to tell you something so I molded in such a way that you'd think I was actually trying to get a point across and has now finally become a valid one at that, is that this time there isn't going to be that last minute hassle to get school uniforms and stationery and... oh, my heart just jumped because I forgot for a second that I had returned all my textbooks and can go collect my results in March without any complications. Not that I'd want any, on top of being emotionally distraught having been let down for the umpteenth time by my results and seeing that every one of my friends, and people who aren't really my friends but more like acquaintances, jumping and fist pumping with tears of complete pure joy because life didn't decide to be harsh and give them that happy ending they asked for. Me? I'm not asking for a happy ending, just one where I don't die. Take that back, death is fine too I guess. I am not sadistic. I just find it ridiculous to be afraid of the inevitable and rather just accept it. WOW this reeks of emo. Just to get things clear, it ain't. That's just the stench of my room which smells like.... ask Shazmeer. Or Alex. Depends actually, you straight?

Shifting theme now, no more spewing shit, now let's spew random shit. Because I'm unpredictable like that (I've been abusing this phrase too much, I think I'm becoming generic.... fuck that).

Bitter bitter me decides to not write anymore for now so ... shall rant/vent/spewshit later. If I don't post this now, it will never go up.

Love Is Only A Feeling

Smitten is an exaggeration.

Yet saying I don't have feelings is an understatement.

I have those rare moments when I wish things aren't the way they are.

I'm trying not to live in that alternate reality where actions don't have consequences.

Doing a bang up job with that, I'd say.

I've missed writing to you.

So let The Darkness reign.

And everything will make sense once again.

Knowing me, I'm just in the mood for the umpteenth time.

Don't judge me for it, but I don't blame you for doing so.

There are a lot of "I"s in this post, actually, it's always ever been just "I"s.

Never "We"s.

I am not alone. Yeah, real convincing, Jimminy.

Now let's Starcraft.

Gooner through & through.

It's hard to say how I feel like right now. On one hand, I can be relatively content seeing Chelsea and Sp*ds go down to 1-0 losses each. I can also be relieved that I did an honest shift of studying today (Yay Bio). Then again, I could be understandably just as wound up and bonkers as much as I am composed right now. The only reason I'm not jumping about and cursing excessively is because my fingers are doing so, on the keyboard, and with the mouse. The Arsenal, what can we say about you? One day you thump Braga for five. Then you go and let 30 seconds of insanity drop 2 points at the feet of a player whose name I can't and shan't even try remember. Beach balls. It doesn't stop there, a few days later, you (quite luckily, considering how an irishman almost took it all away in the dying minutes) make a Sp*ds team weep the cry that the League Cup is nothing of significance. Then you go and lose to a Baggies side .___." . What is it with Arsenal and promoted sides. Do we really take them for granted?

I could go on and on all night about the performance. It's hard to say I don't want to point the finger and fault anyone in particular, when I really want to. The team save for Samir Nasri all looked lackluster and it needed them to go down by 3 before they starting pumping up the tempo to a level we're so used to see on a regular basis at The Emirates. Firstly, I believe Wenger might have chosen the wrong 11 to begin with. Not saying that I would've doubted the strength of the team he put down. On any other day, I would've agreed it was the right thing to do. The return of Song and Diaby in the center of midfield were no surprise. I wouldn't have disagreed with his choices either. I guess he kind of rushed Diaby's comeback from that potentially fibula breaking tackle. Although, considering that Denilson (who has been out for so long) and Wilshere played 120 minutes in midweek, even I'd be reluctant to play either of them. As for other players who under performed, we could name a couple.

The first goal was a result of Sagna being sold too easily for my liking. All Thomas did was look right, he didn't even drop the shoulder or anything fancy, he just left Sagna for dead. The second goal was all about Clichy getting nutmegged with a backheel O_O + Koscienly not closing down the striker enough + Almunia not knowing how to control his eye-hand coordination. And lastly the third, I wouldn't say it was Almunia's fault....totally. Some might argue that he should have stayed on the line, which in truth, would have been the right thing to do considering the player running onto the ball was Brunt, who is a very left footed player, and I believe wouldn't have even gotten his shot on target. So lets give Almunia the benefit of the doubt that he didn't know Brunt couldn't shoot with his right foot, he came off his line but wasn't sure if he could make the tackle. At least he pushed the striker wide. That was probably the best he could have hoped for minus committing himself and smothering the ball from Brunt's feet. The defenders must have been ball watching because no one seemed to pick up Jerome Thomas who slotted it home. In the first place, Brunt shouldn't have been allowed a run at goal. Clichy's lapse in concentration allowed a loose ball to roll past him after committing to the interception too quickly.

Overall I'd say Arsenal just seemed to lack that steel and urgency. From Clichy's lapse in concentration for the second and third goal, Koscielny's error in trusting that Almunia could even accomplish the unthinkable task of covering his near post (shades of Cristiano Ronaldo's freekick in the UCL a few years back) to Eboue's ineffectiveness down the right hand side and Arshavin being a total pedestrian during most if not all of the match (save for his assist for Nasri's second). It's almost impossible to say Wenger could've picked an alternative side with so many out injured. Walcott's out so no one to replace Eboue. Chamakh needed help dealing with the two center backs and Arshavin was as oblivious as ever up to the last minute of the game. RVP is out so nothing here again. Diaby was off the pace, Fabregas to come back. Clichy really needs Gibbs to push him back into top form because the young englishman looks a safer prospect than his much experienced colleague. Vermaelen would sure up any defense when he comes back fit. We don't have anyone else to turn to in goal, I think if we kept Senderos, he'd be playing there right now. Just saying....

As for the whole keeper situation, I would really love to see Szczesny have a run out in the side now. If not, at least Vito Mannone. Almunia's lack of reassurance must be demoralizing for the back four. And I wouldn't want Fabianski anywhere nearer to the first 11 than he already is. It's a shame Gibbs is out for a 'supposedly' shorter period than expected, but I think Clichy has been prone to losing his concentration during certain periods of a match. Hopefully the return of Verminator and Fabregas for the Chelsea game could change the nature of things. Letting Arshavin start on the bench and moving Nasri out on the wing to torment Ivanovic. All we can do now is hope. What's done is done. Hats off to Samir Nasri who was the glow in an extinguished Arsenal side. What's more is that he played 90 minutes at Sunderland, 120 minutes at WHL and another 90 minutes at The Emirates. Being the spearhead of Arsenal's attack in two of those two matches. He is a trooper. And probably another reason why I love Arsenal all the more. Not because of him exactly, that'd make me a poof. No, I'm certainly not one, but I do love his spirit. That's 4 goals in two matches. Keep it up. That's all for now.

Arsenal for life.

Tonight on the show : Truth of the world.

Truth #1 We don't always get the rub of the green

Truth #2 Life goes on with or without us

Truth #3 All things, good or bad, have an end

The loss of something important, like that time I had a level 97 Pikachu and left my cartridge inside the pocket of my pants. Or the time I dropped that bottle of coloured sand from Dubai with your name in it. Meant to give it to you the next day but in the midst of reading your name over and over in my palm, my fingers decided to adopt a klutzy nature. What about that time I misplaced all my birthday money. All gone, not to forget the pain that came with each and every one of these events. Heartache is something easily obtained, hard to lose, harder than losing any of the other things I've said. The list of things I regret would be never ending. But I guess I wouldn't have it any other way considering it's made me much more aware and thankful for the things I have. One thing about being hit over and over, sooner or later, you get used to it. So the hurt is less, the guilt is just as much, but you tend to grasp the fact that it's gone and live with the outcome much faster than you last did. I'm not saying I don't care anymore, I'm saying God has His ways and His wills. So if He wills it, so be it. Nothing I can do but let go and not live in the past, for what's done is done.

If we choose to live in the past, moan and whine about what we've lost, what we didn't deserve to happen to us, most probably nothing's going to come of it. Besides, as someone wiser than I am once said, "We shouldn't want pity from humans. We shouldn't want leeway or the benefit of the doubt of a man. Why would we ever want those things when God's is so much easier to get and so much more precious. The sad thing is, we only realize that when we don't get things our way." If you ask me, what's sadder still is someone who still doesn't see it when they don't get their way but just want more of mortal sympathy. Pathetic if you ask me. I'm not saying I've never wanted it, nor do I not want it anymore, I'm still human, I make mistakes, I have shortcomings, but I'm working on it. I still need that shoulder to lean on, I need your ear to listen sometimes because I'm human.

What motivated me to post tonight was the realization that in the coming months, I'm bound to lose some things. One thing I know I'm going to lose is the chance to travel with GA for the UK tour. I'm not mad about it because it just so happens that the Ministry of Education in Malaysia schedules SPM examinations at that time of the year. Nothing I can do to change it. Nor can I request Coach to move the dates so that they meet my requirements. That's selfish and unfair for the others, so I'm coming to terms with the idea that I'm going to miss out on another GA trip. I don't mind the thought of giving up my spot on the team for someone else, honestly I'm fine with that, what bothers me is missing the chance to be with the team. Last year, I heard news GA would be planning a tour to the UK. It didn't happen last year because 1) honestly, the squad was too small ; and 2) we weren't that good anyways. This year though, I guess I'll be sitting in that examination hall with thoughts of them taking off from KLIA in the back of my head as I try to concentrate on the piece of paper in front of my own eyes.

By the time next year comes around, I've got to start thinking about my future, seriously this time. So I guess I have to say goodbye, Goal. Not just yet, but I'm preparing myself for the inevitable. So it doesn't have to hurt as much as it does now.

Truth #4 I hate saying goodbye.