The Madness That is Me

Day 1 - 3.45am, early Saturday

It's nearly 4am on a Saturday morning. And where am I? Well plastered in front of a tv set. Intently watching football. That's right, it's the world cup... like never before. I'm what you would call a football fan, but I myself am suprised at my dedication to the game. My quest is to watch every single match that is aired live, if its physically possible. By my calculation I'll only miss 4 matches that are shown at the same time ( I can't spell simeltaneously!)And even then there is already a plan at the back of my head to find all the replays. Why? I keep asking myself (as I sit here in the cold during half-time). It feels good this watching of football. It feels right. It feels wonderful... to be accurate. Since my head isn't the least bit near an answer, the answer has to be this: It's all about heart. I am watching this tournament based on feeling only... it's the magical high, it's the heavy breathing, it's that emotional roller coaster. The next 29 days are gonna be filled with football. I will function at all other activities in autopilot. Yes that includes working I am afraid! All energy, all focus will be on the telly that will be showing footie. All emotions.... will be on german pitches worldwide! Emotions. My my my "rollercoaster" is an understatement. I am gonna be screaming high and I am gonna be crying in the pits... no doubt! Friends think I am joking when I say I cry over football... sigh... they are gonna be in for a small suprise. In fact, I think my mum is kind of happy that I won't be home with her for most of the matches. My emotions have painted the house many many times a seething red and an aching black. This again is a question I cannot answer. How can football make a grown woman cry? That's just it. Watch football like I do and you realise that it is an investment of heart, body and soul. It's a sacrifice on the altar of football. It's a sacrifice I am only happy to partake in. And the second half begins...


Day 2, 4.32pm

So, like I couldn't sleep, tossing and turning until 7am at least.
Body was so pumped with adrenalin that I could feel the sheets getting wet ;)
So first manifestation of football fever has arrived - sleep deprivation.
Of course this will only accumulate in weeks to come... when the nights are full of magnificent matches and my days are a blur... When off days shall be spent sleeping and laundry will accumulate and floor will develop a thin layer of muck (not that it hasn't already).

Sleep is an odd thing. They say you can't sleep a lot suddenly and expect to make up for lack of hours days before. They say the body will take its toll and the face will get haggard and withdrawn. Well I am not going to disagree with medical research. But I will say this... the tired body and haggard face I will wear like a proud football injury... :)

I woke up this afternoon, half an hour before my alarm rang. This usually upsets me. But not today. Because waking up meant football would come faster and waking up meant I could stretch and cuddle among my pillows, luxuriating in the remnants of my dream.... lets just say there were plenty of Italian men and plenty of shed jerseys on the floor...

4 hrs... 12 mins to kickoff...

Day 2, 10.49pm

So the inevitable has happened. The other footie manifestation has reared its angry head.
Dissapointment.
Sigh... didn't think it would happen on day two. No England didn't lose but but but they played like shit la... it was like so lousy and so un-world cup like.

They say that if you dun have expectations, then you won't be dissapointed. How not to have expectations at the world cup? It's silly. The entire world cup is about expectation.

It sounds childish really doesn't it? A lil kid dissapointed when the gifts under the tree are lousy. The lil brat upset when no one wants to say anything kind about her new doll.

Ah babe... yucky yuck yuck this feeling.

Day 2... 4.50am

Babe... My heart has dropped into my stomach and my stomach has dissolved. Am hollow.
Empty babe... what if Ivory Coast equalise?????????
Emptiness is filling up babe... he is blowing the whistle! Sigh
Elation! It's overwhelming me... ah! I am happy.

I'd like to talk about choices today.

Choices are something we make everyday.
Teeny Weeny choices,
Big ugly choices,
Daily choices,
Yearly choices,
Life choices.

Choices are governed mostly by what we know,
what we've been told and certain outcomes we'd like to experience.
Choices stare us in the face.

Sometimes I feel choices are what we were put on earth to make.
Sometimes one choice can lead to a life you never thought was for you.

A couple of years back, a boy in the company I worked for, and I, started talking.
Talking eventually lead to the topic of kissing.
Me, of course had to describe every type I had experienced.
And upon further probing, we found out that he had very little to offer
in terms of experience in kissing.
So of course, me being the rascal that I am, offered a demonstration.

The demonstration, a week later in his car was juvenile and rather sloppy.
I will say, that eventually he got better, but the point being that, that one
choice made by me led to a relationship that lasted roughly 8 months.
Yes, a relationship that began with a kiss.

The thing to remember about choices, is that they have consequences.
Some short term, some far reaching.
Following that choice of a kiss, short term consequence meant that we were
finding every opportunity to get into his car ;) and sometimes even getting
out of trouble through the skin of our teeth.
Long term consequence meant that I met his family, and I'll be honest here,
I didn't live up to their expectations. I was found wanting.

The relationship is over now, not because his family didn't approve, but because he fell
in love with someone else. Someone suitable. (Ok, so maybe family had something to do with it, am sure they are happier now.) But I got over it fairly quickly. A relationship based on a kiss among other physical attractions cannot expect to last long. Feelings that were once ignited no longer even smell of ash. But at low points between healthy, happy days, I find this choice
haunting me. The consequences sometimes making me weep - that I couldn't sustain a relationship. That I was deemed not good enough. This choice of a kiss makes me angry at myself, angry that I let myself walk into a situation that made me feel yucky, made me feel weak, made me unconfident.

When I finished high-school, I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life - career wise.
I saw an ad in the papers for a college open day. I walked onto campus with my mum, picked a course, listened to very convincing teachers, and made a choice to join, despite the fact that joining this course effectively took me out of the running for local universities. Back home, I told my dad I was bored with the holidays and wanted to go back to school. Not to the A-levels offered in my old school for free, but to this college that offered a foreign pre-university entry exam. My mum did some talking to dad. My dad dug deep for RM7,000 for tuition and the princess went to college.

Consequently (yes yes, consequences... I told you), when I finished I had to attend a foreign university. Thank God, Monash opened a campus in KL and princess was accepted. I didn't know what course, but by making a choice based on elimination of offered degrees, I chose Science. Mum did some talking. Dad did some borrowing, on top of which a loan of RM50,000 was taken. Princess went to University.

I did make those choices, and I did work hard to complete it. And now I work hard to pay off those debts. I'm nearly halfway there. Dad still helps.

I could look back and ask what if I had done local A-levels. What if I had gone to a local university, what would be happening now? I can come up with one one definite conclusion. I'd be in lesser debt. Apart from that, I can't come to other definite answers.

What interests me most is what kind of person would I have been, if those choices were not made. Would I be the same? Of course not, though there is no telling how different I would be.
Guess all that is left on the altar of 'what ifs'.

In the end, we are a product of our choices. Our fears, tears and accomplishments all started from a single choice. That extra lap in the pool, meant that that one hot bod was scrutinised further. Living in KL meant that I got home when I liked, meant I spent the night where I liked. Changing jobs meant that I met new people, made more money. Choosing to remain single means that most nights are cold. Choosing to write means that I am a writer. Yes I am. What I've always wanted to be. Predicting England will win by a margin of 3 goals, tonight, meant that I was bought an ice cream :)

Choices are mostly good. Decision making is what the people prized the most do.
I'm not very good at it. But I try my best. Choices can be terrible too.
Sigh... lessons learnt at every corner. No worries babe, we survived eh?

The next biggest decision I have to make isn't so bad, though it's all about bragging rights.
I have to decide on the winners of the first round of the world cup for an office pool.
The kind of decisions I hate to make really, cause I want to be right and at the same time am so excited that ticking a box gets me into giggles.
I want to be right not only for the money,
but also because it will feel mighty good.
Ultimately, it's what we want all our decisions to feel like.

Nite nite.