And so, three exciting weeks come to an end

Fitting, very fitting. And I say that having gone into the tournament as a Germany fan. Some have called me fickle or disloyal, but I prefer to think that I can acknowledge and support a team that deserves to win. By that, the Spainards had me converted from a secondary sort of support (due to the four Liverpool players in the team) into a strong conviction that this team played well and were worthy contenders to be crowned kings of Europe.

Also, I'm immensely chuffed that Nando scored the sole goal needed for victory. To celebrate, I shall shamelessly indulge in posting a picture sequence of him out-running Lahm and then chipping the ball in past Lehmann. It was a tumble-rumble, impossible-looking maneuver. Yes, I know that I look like a ridiculously besotted fan now.

The run of play blogger summed up their fairy-tale journey very well in this post: What Spain accomplished. Ahh. A team arrives with the label of chronic underachievers with an inferiority complex and leaves as the best side in Europe. Who doesn't love such a heart-warming, happy ending? And while there is a touch of sadness on the other side over Germany's loss, this German fan's clear-headed response is gracious, truthful and one that I take to very much:

"We are dissapointed to have come in second best only.

But congratulations to Spain!

This is a cup winner like we have not seen in a long time.

Which means they were the most consistently good team throughout the tournament, not losing once; they achieved this without any foul manouevers, and not at the cost of some opponents bad luck, and not through bad refereeing.

In other words: a perfect record.

Without envy, without jealousy, but with great admiration, once again:

Congratulations, Espania!"

Indeed. Viva Espana!

Euro 08 is a landmark tournament

Pundits hail it as such because of the quality of the football that has been shown throughout. This is a good thing for me, as it is the first major footie competition that I've re-arranged my life around and sacrificed sleep to follow closely, and watching a good competition makes it feel really worthwhile. 12 out of 24 matches from the group stages (16, if you count the simultaneous ones) is a brag-worthy feat, or so I've been told by sore males who are unable to keep up. (Hello, Tim!)

Of course, the boyfriend has a part to play in all the crazy, broken sleep patterns. The match time slots are terribly disruptive - waking up at 2 plus and then going back to sleep at 5 for a few hours is disorientating. On my own, I wouldn't have had enough of a reason to get up, but that's why it's great to have a motivation like Fergs around. He never expected me to follow almost all the matches he has (, but I maintain that I've always had a latent interest in football every since the '02 World Cup held in South Korea and Japan. Watching matches then was very easy as the time difference wasn't that great. Shrewd move by the Sepp Blatter administration in providing the vast Asian markets with the impetus to become followers eh.

So. Four more matches to go. It's been an exhilarating, draining experience so far. I'm glad to have a footie fan alongside to drive out together to a mamak, debate each teams' merits, discuss predictions and crack the usual nonsensical jokes.

And who do I support? Well, I've been a fan of Germany in the past two World Cups, but while I would still like to see them do well, I'm happy with just watching any team that plays well and puts up an interesting show. Unless it's that bunch of cheating, ugly brutes known as the Azzuri. I don't understand why Fergus supports them so much. I hate them with a passion. Yuck.

"I'm always glad when milestones are passed."

That's what Vernie, our 'executive produce' said after all the guests had left. I agree with that sentiment very much.

Anyhow. Hello. I've found my blogging motivation again. The weeks from my last post to now have been tumultuous, and I decided against putting it up here so please pardon the lack of activity here. But yesterday, a major hurdle was cleared - we held RSD's cast and crew screening in La Vista Bistro. The past three days have been a panic-driven, sleep-deprived scramble to finish up the poster-mock ups and make sure the movie was playable. Fergs and I pretty much arrived at the premier zonked, and I had a headache from the lack of sleep.

At times during these past few weeks, I've caught myself wishing temporarily for a less hectic, less stressful life. I miss the days when we took walks in the evening or had leisurely reading/movie dates and then talked for hours after that. Sometimes I'm resentful that Fergs is so busy and that I'm inevitably sucked into supporting him. But when I sit down to think about it, I've chosen to stand alongside him and I shouldn't complain about the sacrifices that have to be made. Especially for RSD.

I've always wanted to be a part of the movie, and I am immensely grateful to have been privy to the whole post-production process. I've seen the movie being shaped out of raw footage into a refined piece of art, helped make suggestions to improve it and survived the agony of technical setbacks. I love being a part of the unseen crew of people who labour to make the people onscreen watchable.

It's like keeping a secret.

Hardest to say

"I'm not happy."

bArooo.

My 78 cents thoughts

I heard the news in the lift after work. It didn't really sink it then. It was rainy and grey and someone messaged to say that there was a terrible storm in PJ and that traffic was at a standstill.

It took one and a half hours to get back home. Being among lines of cars in the sullen rain depresses me. Phones that keep beeping with frantic messages about the price hike didn't help. The bleakness starts to eat.

I drove out alone after dinner to fill up. The wet roads were mostly empty and cars moved about disconsolately, as if too much in a daze to hurry. Joining the desperate but patient queues at the station, I imagine that this is what people queuing up for war-rations must feel like. Apparently it was different in PJ, where the price panic and rain created vicious driving, blaring horns and car breakdowns aplenty.

It's rare for me to get time alone with my thoughts. The half hour I waited without company or activity to distract allowed secrets that have been ignored to surface.

And so, I grappled with the realisation that I fear the unknown.

Hungry

Today, I said I was a little desperate. You see, yesterday, I came across this illustrator, Lauren Nassef, who posts a different drawing of hers every day on her website.

She draws something new every day.

Like this other site, 25 Project, which I stumbled upon in January this year and wanted to blog about, but never got around to. It's a self-taught graphic designer's project where, to commemorate her 25th year of existence, she's completing and posting 1 art project a day for the whole year starting from 21 November 2007. Same age as I am. She holds a full-time job elsewhere, but she can still come up with a new design every day and run an online store selling her creations.

I've been feeling increasingly restless. I need to push myself off my butt and start something.

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On a related note to my butt (and title post), I am hungry in the stomach sense. You see, trying on a skirt yesterday night and finding it too tight to sit comfortably in calls for drastic measures. So I had a fruit salad for lunch today.

I'm a tiny pendulum

Hello June.

Today I moved from silent despair to excitement. It didn't take much of a push for that.

I think I read ya

"If they say 'I'll try to come', it actually means 'Don't rely on me, I'm not going to make it'. They're setting you up so that at the last minute when they say 'I can't come' you've been prepared already. But they actually already know."

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Said that last Wed and meant to post it up. I think it's a cynical but truthful observation.