Okay, calm down, May Zhee, calm down. Take a deep breath, another one, slow and steady ... good.

Know two things before you begin:

1. It will not be the end of the world if you do not get to do everything you're interested in (just like the concept of men). You will still be able to learn it through books, television, exhibitions and hands-on experience (sleeping with a Russian man to learn about Russian culture). This is not a big deal. You can do this. You won't be missing out.

2. Read 1 again.

Now, list courses you are interested in:

-Literature

- History

-Arts

- Music

- Movies, Theater

- Architecture

-Philosophy

- Sociology

- Politics

- Economics

- Media, Modern culture

- Foreign language, Linguistics

- Anthropology

- Physics

- Legal Studies

Okay ... now list the courses you are REALLY interested in.

-Literature

- History

-Arts

- Music

- Movies, Theater

- Architecture

-Philosophy

- Sociology

- Politics

- Economics

- Media, Modern culture

- Foreign language, Linguistics

- Anthropology

- Physics

- Legal Studies

No. Like seriously interested in, like, courses you actually can picture yourself taking a class in and doing all the coursework needed, and find yourself still interested after ten classes and the teacher is not as weird and eccentric as you would think.

-Literature

- History

-Arts

- Music

- Movies, Theater

- Architecture

-Philosophy

- Sociology

- Politics

- Economics

- Media, Modern culture

- Foreign language, Linguistics

- Anthropology

Okay. You took out Legal Studies and Physics ... that's helpful.

No you may not put them in again.

Okay put it this way. What are the majors or minors or clusters you're considering on taking? Interests that you really want to zero in on, take numerous courses under it, know everything about it inside out and make your LIFE revolve around it?

- English, focusing on Literature

- Russian Studies

- History

There! Finally! Progress. So you're interested in those three things, and the good thing about those three interests is that they overlap. Greatly. The course on Great Russian Writers overlap with Literature, and Russia Now overlaps with History. So 1. you'll have plenty of time for courses outside your major 2. by some stroke of genius your other interests overlap as well!

Like, Architecture and Art, Foreign Language and Modern Culture, Linguistics and Sociology, Anthropology and Modern Culture and Foreign Language, Media and Politics ... and so on.

Genius! So all you have to do now is to choose a course that would satisfy both your interests, and sideline those that do not. For example, you only have a shallow interest in Architecture (shallow meaning, you like it as a subject, you don't want to take a whole major on it. Also you have a thing for architects) so you don't actually have to take a course on Engineering Bridges.

As interesting as that sounds ... Engineering ... Bridges ... getting to learn the structure of a bridge ... how it's built ... what significance any part of the process serves ... looking at history of bridges ... visiting the famous bridges of the world ... relating the building of a physical bridge to the metaphorical bridges in the journey of life ...

No. NO.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

STOP IT.

So back on track, yes, choosing courses wisely. I don't HAVE to take History of Photography, those are for people who truly want to be a well-rounded art person, I can just take Modern Art, where I gain enough insight into 20th-century art like Impressionism, Surrealism, Pop Art and so on. It's encompassing enough. Keyword here is enough.

My interests in film and theater can be limited to Introduction to the Art of Film, Playwriting, which all overlap with my Literature course anyway!

TEEHEEEHEEE.

The kind of choices I should be making is, Creating Architecture (to explore the design principles of Architecture) ... or Introduction to Modern Architecture (to learn about the great architect figures like Sullivan and Rohe)? Both very basic courses that I, a person with minimal interest on Architecture, should be considering. And remember, either way, you can always just date an architect to learn more about architecture (like one month tops, get all the information you need, and get out of there). Perfect solution for everything.

So yeah.

It'll be fineee.

I'll be fineeee.

College will be fineeee.

:)

No change for us, thank you very much.

I just got back from my first ever trip to Singapore, and I'm having this mental constipation thing where I have so much to say that it all eventually clogs up and I have to find some way to release it all?

Yes you are all unknowing victims of my mental constipation. I spare no one.

First trip ever to this island, at the age of 20. My parents never bothered taking me because they probably figured it's so near I would go there myself some day, and I did ... twenty years down the road. (While you're doing that shock eye twitch face, I should also tell you I've never been to Thailand before. Yet. Never been to Thailand yet.)

I think the perfect word to describe how I feel about Singapore is: impressed. I like that word. It's safe, doesn't hold too much expectations, doesn't reveal too much either, and impression almost always depends on the eye of the beholder, when really what I'm thinking is this:

HOW THE FUCK CAN WE LIVE WITH NEIGHBORS LIKE THAT?

Seriously. How can any self-respecting politician visit Singapore in its full glory and come back to KL not feeling - a little, just a little - like shit? How can we live in a country just across the border that is moving forward at such speed and style while we stay put, fighting our petty battles?

Like, to change or not to change Science/Math back to Malay ah ... to abolish or not to abolish UPSR/PMR ah ... completely missing the point of education. HELLO SINGAPORE'S NATIONAL UNIVERSITY IS RANKED 30 IN THE WORLD, AND THEY HAVE ANOTHER ONE AT 73. I don't even want to point out where University Malaya is ranked, but it's somewhere between 179 and 181.

I don't mean to keep comparing Malaysia with Singapore, but the mind is stereotypical by nurture, hence anything across an ocean, like Australia, is considered a whole different world, so they have an excuse to be better. They have better resources, they had more time, different government ... and more convenient excuses for us to "not compare please".

But Singapore! A country accessible by just a bridge, subjected to the same situation, conditions, history, weather, people. A place close enough to be part of the country, advancing in a way no country in this region thought was possible... how can we not feel ashamed at ourselves, and disgraced to the world?

Even Stalin, in the Cold War days, had the good sense of shutting off East Berlin to the West because the poverty in the East was so marked that people looked over the Berlin Wall and saw the rich drinking and partying in the West, and wanted to escape there.

Do we not feel shame? And if so, does that shame not power us to do something about it?

At this point I would like to point out two things:

1. Sure Singapore is smaller than Malaysia, hence making it easier for progress or whatever insert convenient excuse here, but what is the excuse for KL then? KL is just as big, if not smaller, as Singapore. (I checked) When I'm asking for progress, I don't mean all 329,845 square km (I checked) of Malaysia. I'm looking to our capital city, where the weight of our country's image rests upon, the embryo of a nationwide progress, and I'm disappointed.

How much does it say about our country if we can't even keep KL clean and safe, and the Singaporeans can?

Wake up. Singapore is kicking our ass, not because they're smaller. If anything, Singapore's size is a handicap because of the lack of land and manpower, while we have so much of both but we rather let our people be stuck in jams and our land squandered to build yet another mall. Oh my God.

Singapore is kicking our rich(er) ass because they recognized their potential and used their resources well. We, on the other hand, like to either keep our resources stupid and ignorant, or drive them away to other countries by offering them shitty opportunities and no future.

2. Malaysia is not THAT bad, defenders say. We have roofs and roads and schools and malls, defenders say. We really are not that bad! defenders say.

I say, that is EXACTLY what is wrong with this country! Mediocrity! The problem with Malaysia is that we're not bad enough for the people to want to do anything, but we're not fucking awesome either, but Malaysians don't see that because they live what they think is a good life. They complain about the situation, of course, but then they go home to their big houses, their private-schooled kids, their big cars and they're happy. I know this, because my own family is like this.

Mediocrity is WORSE than living in adversity because at least poverty or an economic crisis forces people to want change, and work towards it. Vote a different party into power, maybe. Mediocrity makes you complacent with what you have, blind to what you can have better. (Eg. cars with cheap petrol instead of better public transport.) Different party? What different party? The current party is just fine, they guarantee our jobs and cars!

A nation that thinks like this ends up with zero progress, because everyone is stupidly content, and fat, and lazy, and unproductive.

If you ask me, Malaysia hasn't suffered a big enough blow, and that in itself is a suffering.

I'm going to pretend like I don't know how this became such a long diarrhea-like post.

Funny thing is I didn't even mention all the things I started out to say. Like how I haven't seen a single litter on Singaporean grounds in the past three days, or how I can walk everywhere or take the public transport without fear or embarrassment because everyone in Singapore is walking with me/taking the train with me, or how everything is so much more efficient and faster - even the escalators - showing that people value their time, or how people look better and take the effort to dress up - hence Forever 21 saw the market it needed to open three floors there, or how I felt a kind of security walking the streets or taking a cab at 3am that I don't feel in Malaysia, and got laughed at by a Singaporean friend ...

Me being properly bribed with food. Maybe this whole post is nonsense. Maybe my mind is ruled by my very last memory of Singapore ... which is a heavenly piece of foie gras. Maybe it's not about making your home a better place to live in, maybe it's just this piece of ... fuck I must have some more.

Ah fuck.

Cannot wait for America where ...

- I can finally buy things from American websites and have them delivered right to my doorstep. AMAZON WHAT UP.

- When Starbucks Twitter says they have some new weird-ass Ethopian drink, I know there's actually a possibility of me getting it. POP CULTURE WILL BE AT MY FINGERTIPS MUAHA.

- Forever 21 is cheap.

- Porn. Just porn.

- I no longer have to convert prices online from US Dollars to Ringgit and then try to estimate how much a MAC Technakohl eyeliner would cost here. NO. There I get the real price! Straight off the net! NO MORE LIES AND DECEPTION, INTERNET.

- Advertisements are smarter because they actually want customers, jokes are funnier because they actually have a sense of humor and beer is decent because it's not Carlsberg.

- It is not illegal to throw dogs and pork at people. Not that I would find myself doing that anytime soon.

It's great living in a country that rules the world. No more having to face the disappointment of something that seems to be the greatest creation ever (like Spanx) only to find out it's not sold in your friendly neighborhood mall. Or in any mall in the country, really.

Bye suckers.

Hope.

You, yes I'm talking to you.

It's not very funny sneaking up on people like that. Once someone has a Plan on how to live their lives already, must you emerge from the depths within and ruin it all?

One breach on the surface of the Plan was all it took to set the cracks off, radiating, racing, conducting, consuming ...

No, I want the Life I had Planned out for me, in my next four years. I don't want your precarious alternative, your fucking options.

There's no harm in trying, you say. I say there is harm, and that my mentality is all you need to attack to bring about that harm.

I gotta figure out another way to co-exist with Hope. Goddamn parasite...

Five.

Five reasons why I like John Mayer

1. The obvious - his sexy music.

2. He's a three-dimensional celebrity, where you actually get a glimpse of his personality, because he writes his own blog/tumblr/Twitter, and you pretty much don't notice his publicist, in the way that you shouldn't notice the referee in a good football game. Goddamnit I can never spell referee.

3. He's actually funny, and writes cleverly. Men with sense of humor - 1. Men with none - 0.

4. He's an asshole. He has this "love them and leave them" attitude and his tendency to spew out shit in public is just funny to watch. I don't know why anyone would mind being called a "sexual napalm" for John Mayer though ...

5. He's cute.

***

Five places I want to live in before I die:

1. New York City

2. London

3. Madrid

4. Moscow

5. Undecided

***

Five make-up I wouldn't leave home without when going out with girl friends somewhere casual but with possibility of meeting a hot stranger and getting his number:

1. BB Cream

2. Contact lens (not make-up but present for aesthetic reasons. Also practical reasons, as I'd be blind without them and completely miss any hot stranger/risk walking into a glass door in presence of hot stranger)

3. Eyeliner

4. Eyeshadow/Concealer

5. Lip balm

***

Five books I really want to read now:

1. Ilustrado by Miguel Syjuco

2. A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka

3. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

4. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

5. Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

***

Five books I've last read:

1. Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby

2. High Fidelity by Nick Hornby (both good, but just for light reading)

3. In Cold Bloody by Truman Capote (good)

4. Casanova by Andrew Miller (so bad I stopped at page 50 and imagined myself puking all over it)

5. The Lazarus Project by Aleksandr Hemon (good)

***

Five most hated things at the moment:

1. Twilight

2. Twilight

3. Twilight

4. Twilight

5. Twilight

***

Five singers I'd bring to a deserted island so they can serenade me as I wait for my doom:

1. Oasis

2. Coldplay

3. John Mayer

4. Lady Gaga

5. Queen

Yes I cheated by bringing bands. Hey it's my morbid deserted island fantasy fuck off.

***

Five websites I check everyday:

1. Facebook

2. Gmail

3. Twitter

4. Elmundo.es (it's my homepage so yeah)

5. Blogger ... LIE. I think I check Youtube more than I check my own blog.

***

Five of my dream jobs, excluding a writer and anything to do with writing/publishing:

1. Librarian/bookstore assistant (my fantasy it to sit by the racks, looking demure and arranging books in the alphabetical order of their author's last names. I am too cool)

2. Teacher

3. Something boring like ... financial consultant. Just to know how it feels. No offence to financial consultants out there, I'm sure you find your job very fulfilling.

4. Architect, so I can be sexy

5. Artist, so I can be crazy. ("But isn't it too late for that?" Har har very funny)

***

Five ... yeah okay no that's all.

"The things you own end up owning you." - Tyler Durden

When I was younger, I never really got the room I wanted. I shared it with my two brothers, and I lived everyday wanting my own four walls, my own square feet, my own space. When we shifted to our new house, and I finally got it, it was too late. I had slowly ceased to put meaning in material things, yet I was still unsure of the alternatives. (I highly suspected one was in my four-year-going-strong ex-boyfriend, now on hindsight I would much rather it have been in a tree bark.)

There's such a dangerously thin line between finding meaning and placing meaning, worse still when you don't even know if it's necessary to distinguish them.

I was clearing my things out the other day, in this own room of mine, and I realized just how easy it became. I realize now with my belongings that if I didn't throw them out, they'd just end up sitting there doing nothing anyway. Once you understand this about things (not just the material ones), it becomes a lot easier to unload. Things lose their sentiments, their artificial shine, their nostalgic gloss, and they become nothing but a box of chocolates way past the expiry date.

I prefer things this way, truth be told. This way I only need to keep things that serve a purpose in this point of my life, nothing before or beyond. Operation declutter life: successful?

Not quite. Throwing out some things from the past proved tricky, and it pushed me to the edge of a self-made dilemma for a while. How is it that things that used to mean a lot to me, can have its appeal seep out with time, until today it lies here in my palm, like an empty shell? Wouldn't that put all the things I have now in danger of withering with age?

I threw out most of my notes from school, but I kept some History texts. I told myself they might be useful some day, but truth was I just wasn't ready to throw them out yet. That's all it's about. Readiness. At first I thought it was about whether meaning really lied in physical things (is a Gold Honor Roll a piece of paper, or the effort and enjoyment of it?), but I realized it was really a question of when you're ready to throw them out. (And the answer may be, never.)

If I win a Pulitzer some day, I probably wouldn't care much about some Readers' Choice Award I got in 2007. I went through life in the same way, dropping and picking up new shades of myself along the way. I no longer blog pictures of everywhere I've been, because I don't need the satisfaction I get from doing so anymore. In place is my need to write and express my thoughts, and it's something I can see myself doing for a long time.

I think that's the cut-off point in our product life cycle. I threw out things I don't need anymore, I was even selective with the memories - out went the bulk of it, more to go soon, and I've decided that from now on, things to stay are things to keep for life. There. Growth stage ends, maturity stage begins.

If you believe art is timeless, then there's no greater art than the belongings of a person. Not just any old thing, but things people have anchored on to for life, things that have weathered the whims and tumults of man's personal evolution. Things that I don't know what I'd do without, probably float away into some abyss...

Part of the decluttering was to help me pack for America. For a person starting a new life there, there is strangely little that I have to bring. I've narrowed it down to really three categories: clothes, laptop and books (those I'm reading at the moment, it may well be only one book but I'm putting this in a separate category because it carries a weight heavier than you would think).

If that is the suitcase of my life, then I'm glad. Like I said, I only need things purposeful to me at this point of my life. Nothing before, nothing beyond.

For each day of the World Cup, I thought I'd be saying, "Okay boys, Spain lost, it's the end of the World Cup for me."

:)

Next World Cup: RUSSIA BABY!!!! I have my cap ready!

(Taken this morning, just got back from my night out, hence the jersey and traces of Spain flag painted on my face by Roberto - who also painted it on everyone who came near him. With my Russian cap, I look like a very confused football fan.)

***

Okay now for the unglamorous bits.

Last night was SHIT.

The night started out good enough, with lots of potential, in the male form. The map of Europe was laid spread in Changkat's Reggae, and I was happy everywhere I landed. The men were hot, the hot men made good conversations, the good conversations preceded flirting .. it was a typical night. First tequila shot, first vodka mix.

Enter Antonio from Italy. Cute, scruffy (slight) and eager. There were others, of course, but he was the one you knew you'd go back for. Second tequila shot, two whisky coke. There was Andy who supported Crystal Palace F.C. (I had to laugh), his friend who supported Leeds (not forgiving them for Man Utd's FA Cup exit), Alex of France who could speak Spanish (my theory that France and Spain are mortal enemies is now disproved) ... one vodka something, third whatever shot ...

Routine ensued. There was the weaving in and out of crowd - oh hi I didn't see you there, the far off eye contact while in conversation with another, the increasingly intimate (but brief) contact - when there is contact - oh hi it's you again. An understanding has been achieved. Routine is as routine does. The night was going to have company.

So, a lot of people texted me this morning asking, "Where were you last night?" to which I replied, "I was at Frangipani's ... puking." Because I was. All the alcohol that punctuated my socializing before decides to act now, and it came out horribly. It was so horrible that at one point I actually wished my mom was there. Plus it was Reggae alcohol, and those things were twice as lethal. By then my friends and I had left all our men at Reggae and were at Frangipani's to watch the match. If your name was Michelle Phua though, you spent your night taking care of me. Did I mention I love that woman?

A cab ride later, a purse drunkenly waved at the taxi driver but stopped by Michelle in good time and the night pretty much ended for us. The next morning when I woke up wondering (and shouting) WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ALL OUR MEN, I was referring to the Antonios and Alexes and Andys. We lost them, and it appears they've lost us too.

But it wasn't the getting drunk and puking your guts out in a club bathroom that did it. No, it wasn't. The above is a descriptive account of what happened last night, now comes the analysis. It was the aftermath. The hangover, bad on its own, altered forms as the day went on. Along the way, it accumulated regret, turbulence and the all-too dreaded self-consciousness. It was a day of questions and recounts, to fill up the gaps in the alcohol-based memory, and I was squirming in the seat of whatever stage of life I am in, just at the sheer discomfort of it all.

It would be hard for drinking of such proportions to not cause some furious rumination the next day, and so I gave in. It was one of those situations where I was made to realize things I knew all along, nothing new or unfamiliar, hence there was no lesson to be learned. Only the burden of having to relive fact after fact, monotonously useless, until it is put out entirely.

Nevermind. It's so hard to explain, without really explaining, and I'm not really trying to explain. Maybe I wouldn't have had so much to prattle about if I had actually gotten laid last night.

Lessons of World Cup 2010

I think it's safe to say that this World Cup has taught us some very important life lessons ... that we will forget when the next World Cup comes around.

1. History means nothing in football.

2. La Liga > Bundesliga > EPL > France

3. Barcelona and Real Madrid have become one entity to me. I don't know how I'm going to watch La Liga next season and support Real Madrid without my mind occasionally wandering to the benches of Barcelona. I'm such a cheater in this relationship.

Oh well the real marriage is with Man Utd anyway, and I've always been able to be completely bias in EPL and think they're the best team, but I don't think I can do that with Real Madrid anymore.

God I'm so glad Mourinho is coaching them. That man is pure gold.

Can you picture Mourinho and Ronaldo together? They're going to make magical goal babies next season...

And Gonzalo Higuain!

And omg all these new recruits for Man Utd. Was Sneijder one of them? I know Javier Hernandez is and he's so full of potential ...

Wonder where Fabregas is going...

HOLY FUCK SERIOUS FOOTBALL WITHDRAWAL SYMPTOMS MUCH. Argh, the Fifa drug.

After tonight, bring on the Champions League, Community Shield, Euro 2012 qualifiers, EPL, La Liga, anything JUST ANYTHING before I start chewing my own arm off from this slowly but surely descending madness.

In the meantime,

The final battleground, my soldiers. Victory is yours for the taking.

VAMOS ESPANA!

Football withdrawal post.

3.18am. I change my MSN name to Lebensmitteleinzelhandel. Football withdrawal symptom at critical level.

Idiots commenting on my blog. They must have football withdrawal symptoms too. Except they probably have it all the time, with or without the football. Because they're special like that.

The one thing I can't stand is explaining myself to idiots. I stopped doing it a long time ago, because I realized explaining yourself to idiots is a lot like ... scratching your genitals (in public). It's itching, you can't help it, it feels like an obligation, would be totally fine if you just left it but no ... must ... scratch ... self ... but the thing about scratching your genitals (in public) is that once you start, you have to keep doing it. And so if you start explaining yourself to one idiot, you have to do it for the next one, and the next one, and the next one ... and in the end you're still scratching your genitals. In public.

So I stopped scratching my genitals in public and carried on with my life.

People say you have to let your views be challenged bla bla bla accept opposing views bla bla bla so you will emerge as a stronger person bla bla bla. Dude, I am all for accepting different views and voicing out different views (I even called it one of the important traits of a nation, you douchebag) but honestly the whole let your views be challenged part? Yeah that doesn't exist on the internet. Nope, not here. Sorry, start walking back now. Especially not on blogs that enabled the anonymous/pseudonym comment function.

What the fuck kind of intellectual challenge to opinions can occur in this medium, I really don't understand. Even if some fucker writes a long-ass, seemingly intelligent comment opposing your blog post, with justification and all, WHO THE FUCK CARES? WHO ARE YOU TO ME THAT I SHOULD EVEN TAKE INTO ACCOUNT YOUR POINT OF VIEW? WHO THE FUCK IS DICKSON KOH? Really.

Before I was genuinely convinced I had to be open to everyone's views and all that shit, but I've learned now that it shouldn't always be the case. I do accept differing views, and I like my views to be challenged, except I will only do so if it came from someone worthy of my attention/mental effort to take in their views and process it and explain myself if need be.

Like coming from someone I actually know and respect - not necessarily someone I have to like. It can be someone I just met last Friday at a bar to my university lecturer. People I would actually give a shit about.

And another thing is just ... this medium of exchange. I mean, this is a frivolous pink blog. FRIVOLOUS pink blog. Frivolous PINK blog. Frivolous pink BLOG. Like wtf kind of intellectual exchange do you expect to get here?! To have my opinions legitimately challenged HERE? Really? All I want to do here is blog, I really don't care what the fuck you think, and I am allowed to say so, because, well, I really don't care what the fuck you think.

The point of this post?

I don't know. I just had football withdrawal symptoms I was gonna randomly switch topics. I didn't know it would lead to me blogging about this. I was actually gonna blog about the top five hottest guy names, and then something about ... penises. Was it? I can't even remember now.

But anyway the point of this post, to summarize, because summarizing it will make this already offensive post even more offensive, is:

1. I just compared idiotic commenters to genitals.

2. I think blogs are a stupid place to have your views challenged, especially if it's pink.

3. So unless you're someone I know, or someone whom I actually respect, say Oprah Winfrey wants to come and disagree with this post, I will take into account your point of view. If you're just another passer-by who means nothing to me, fuck off.

4. If you're Oprah Winfrey but you insist on using a pseudonym, fuck off as well. Identity is important here, it changes things and my perception. If you're a nobody, I don't care that you think the world is flat. If you're a somebody, I care that you think the world is flat.

Well, this is not all-inclusive, like you know if my next-door neighbor wants to nuke my house, and this unknown kid runs up to me and tries to tell me, and I go all "No fuck off kid you're no one to me so I won't take into account your point of view" on him and the next day I find my house nuked ... well, not in cases like that.

(Though there is some truth because if I ran the country and North Korea wants to nuke my country, I will definitely not upturn my whole security system because of the cries of some unknown kid. Who will probably do it on my personal blog or something.)

If you want to argue about whether or not my way of things is applicable to other situations, just fuck off.

I hate those chicken-or-egg-first discussions. They lead nowhere.

I will stick to having my views challenged in a classroom or in intelligent conversations with real-life people.

Okay enough chatter I should probably go like blog about my own pictures and charity or something.

Why I love football.

Last night when I saw (my) David Villa being substituted for Fernando Torres, I finally understood the tactics of Spain in the World Cup.

To those untutored ears of football (TTUEOF), Villa is basically the national team's goal-scoring machine and currently holds the title of the highest goal-scorer of World Cup 2010, while Torres is the handicap of the team, never failing to fail and hasn't scored a single goal since the beginning of the competition.

All the Spanish people around me cheered when Torres came on, while I went "WHY ARE YOU ALL SO HAPPY FOR? HE'S NOT GOING TO SCORE." Then again they were drunk, and Spanish, and would have cheered at anything. In my David Villa jersey, I was visibly livid.

Torres is also a Liverpool scum.

But after a while, it hits me why Coach del Bosque made that change, and I've grown to like football a little more since then.

TTUEOF, looking at Spain's record in the World Cup so far, one might think Spain has not been having their best games at all.

Switzerland 1 - 0 Spain

Honduras 0 - 2 Spain

Chile 1 - 2 Spain

Portugal 0 - 1 Spain

Paraguay 0 - 1 Spain

They've had the easiest teams in the qualifying rounds, and they only managed a feeble one goal at times, even losing to Switzerland for the first time in history. Against stronger teams it also seems like a very narrow margin of victory for La Furia Roja.

And so when they played Germany last night, which has a record of 4-0 against Australia and 4-0 against Argentina (one decent and one fucking good team - even lending to the Mean Girls joke "Germany? YOU GO GERMANY, FOUR FOR YOU GERMANY. And none for Argentina bye."), among the other blazing wins and also their excellent form, almost everyone was rooting for Germany. They were rooting for the team that would most likely win, and honestly, up until last night, I agreed with them.

And it was last night, during the Villa-Torres exchange, that it occurred to me: maybe that's exactly how Spain wanted them to think. Maybe Spain isn't aiming for anything more than a 1-0 for most games. Maybe Spain CAN do it, but they rather play a game of beautiful passes and enviable control, so that teams like GERMANY and people like ALL OF YOU IN MY FACEBOOK NEWSFEED LAST NIGHT will underestimate their potential in the World Cup.

Watching last night's game, I say Germany has definitely underestimated Spain's ability to achieve a slow but sure victory, and Spain has exploited that well. They play a slow game, attacking when they tire and perplex their opponents with their trademark passes, and after Puyol scored the first goal (which I totally missed because before I could see anything I was suddenly hugged and kissed and shoved and cheering with everyone), that was it. The deal was sealed. It was done. Why tire and waste ourselves with two or three more goals? This is enough. Now let's close in on the Germans, finish off this 1-0 victory, and let's pack up and go home.

By taking Villa the goal machine out and putting Torres the useless in (I like this name. It has a nice ring to it. I will stick to it when the Premier League starts), del Bosque could confuse the opponent, please the fans and still up his chances at the same time. To me it felt like a message from a leader to his soldiers in the battlefield, telling them the victory shot has been fired, they just need to hold up a little bit more, until the final whistle is blown, and everything is won.

Germany was playing a whole different team out there last night, a whole new ballgame. They've played Argentina, England, Australia, Uruguay, etc ... truth be told they're all almost the same. Different degrees of greatness, yes, but really just the same. Same style, same players, same mindset.

But Spain. Spain. Spain played unlike any other, they were different, they were special. It was unfamiliar to Germany, and they just couldn't keep up with it. Spain near perfected every part of their game last night, and what I took for weak attack before was merely a tactic (why else would del Bosque use the exact same formation that lost them the Switzerland game, that they rarely used in their history of winning their World Cup games), and with that, Germany's morale withered.

Allow a history buff like me (loser) to say that they retreated like it was D-Day in World War Two again.

After 73 minutes, the game was lost. Spain's defense became perfect, impenetrable, they have mastered the Swiss cheese bloc method (except not as distastefully) and the Deutschland team stood no chance.

Spain doesn't play to deliver crushing, humiliating victories like Argentina, Brazil and, now, Germany. (This is the part where you look at where those three teams are now, and compare them to Spain.) Spain scored 1-0 against the Germans to win the Euro Cup in 2008, and they've scored 1-0 again, on 7 July 2010, to send them into the finals.

And to think, the first thing that came into mind (after the noooooooo of course) when I saw Villa taken off was that maybe it was because he was one goal away from breaking the national record, and they wanted to save that enthusiasm for the next game, in which he will possibly with them the World Cup. For the very first time.

If I had stuck with that view only, you guys would have been saved from reading this long post and instead have Villa's wank-worthy photos plastered all over my blog, and your vision.

But too bad.

And this is really one of the reasons why I love football. It can be such a beautiful game sometimes, and you won't be able to explain why. Seeing Andres Iniesta play brings tears to my eyes, and I can't explain why. I don't even play football. But in the same way, you don't have to play music to like music.

I first supported Spain not just because of their awesome football, but because of my love for the country (evident in my blog posts, not gonna repeat self). In the same way if Russia had joined, without any stars on their jersey, I would have supported them too. Just like I did with Spain right from the start. I didn't support them expecting them to win, or get this far, but I paid RM259 for the jersey nonetheless, and RM99 for the immortalization of David Villa on it.

And now seeing the team you stood behind even before World Cup started, before their victories, despite their defeat to the Swiss Cheese Defense Team, after a string of under-par results, knowing full well their best placing is 60 years ago and only at fourth, knowing full well they have the consistency of being knocked out in quarter finals, or even Round 1/2, mentally preparing yourself for the end of their World Cup journey any 4.30am now ...

Seeing Spain go all the way to the finals for the first time in history, seeing Spain about to make history, with this batch of players you've admired and cheered for and sent mental well wishes to, seeing Spain about to break their record - no, already broken their record ... no other feeling in the world can compare.

It's not love for family, it's not love for a partner, or friends, or pets, or career, or God. It's love for the football team you support. That's me, and Manchester United as well.

And I wish that one day, in the way that the Spanish people proudly sang, "Yo soy Espanol, Espanol, Espanol!" I can go, AKU ANAK MALAYSIA!

Or in whatever politically correct way ... I wouldn't know. I've never had the chance to say it before.

Home of the brave.

I knew in pre-school that I wanted to study in America. (Other than that I was a pretty normal kid.)

In Year 3 or so, I made my friend Shannon sign a "contract" stating we will both study in America some day and that we will not abandon each other. I've never dreamed of studying anywhere else ever since.

Today I'm 47 days away from starting my life as an American student in University of Rochester, under their full four-year scholarship. My dad no longer has to sell our car, even though I think he was only joking.

I will spend my first year in America with enthusiasm, an open mind and a vision. I will take classes of Literature and History. I will start my search, widen my margin and understand new things. I will write. Oh my God I will write. I will fuck whoever I want, and do whatever I want, and I will be who I know I can be.

I want to come back to visit in December, and if I don't, I want to see New York City (five hours drive) and Toronto (two hours drive). I will spend my weekends with art, architecture, sports, music and culture. I will be involved in college, and the town of Rochester, I want to be of use to someone, something.

I will be back for summers, Malaysia will always be my ground zero. I will spend a semester abroad in Spain. I would have taken (continued) Spanish courses, and started Russian. I want to live in Russia some day, I'm not sure if it'll be during my college year, but I'll get there.

I don't know about grad school, I think when the time comes I'll know. But after it is all over, I will come home, and I will work here. I want my own place - I can't decide if it should be on the outskirts on near the heart of the city - and I want an AK-47 model hung on my wall. I am not joking. I will still be writing, and I will wallow in every second of it. I will be a writer until the day I die.

I don't know if this is my plan. I don't know if an enticing offer will materialize out of the thin New York air and whisk me away. I don't know if I will fall too much in love with Madrid, or if it'll be with Barcelona, and I won't come back. I don't know if I will fall for a Russian man, and marry into his big Russian family.

I don't know.

I just want to write. And shag men. Writing and fucking are two things I'm good at (meaning I actually have a pretty good idea what to do), and I guess it doesn't matter where I do them at. Whether it's in the land of the free, or tanah tumpahnya darahku...

I don't know. This is home. My previous post still stands. I want to come home. I hope I'll get all this figured out in four years' time.

The Jones have left the building.

We start off the night as three blurry creatures...

... to fluorescent beings in our full glory!

Ermm yeah still us in our full glory.

Name: Gumby

Hobby: Licking things

What things: MY TOES

Camwhoring in every place possible in the house ... to the couch!!

Good job Gumby you made this photo cute!

Gumby joins us and fills the frame with puppy love goodness ... and a lot of his drool.

"Aaah! "Aaaah!!!" "AAAAHH!!!!"

In the car, Alex giving us a ride to Reggae...

And off to Chinatown we go!

You know how in Toy Story 3, at one point Buzz Lightyear goes in Spanish, "Amigo ... or enemigo?"

Alcohol = ENEMIGO.

We look so loving! (And completely wasted by this point.) (So wasted we don't remember these photos being taken.)


1. Siblings do Michael Jackson face.

2. Kristi tries to make a frog with her hands. Keyword: tries.

3. Siblings do owl face.

4. Kristi has incredible talent of tying cherry stick in her mouth!

HAHAHA. I regret to say I think we were still sober when we took this.

We provide Alex the obligatory pimp photo.

... 'twas a good night!

Except the part where I puked right next to 7-11, making it my proud landmark in KL as the first (and hopefully last) public place I've puked in. I cannot drive past that place without providing my companions a tour-guide introduction to that sacred area.

I've also sworn off this product, which Rory used to prepare the vodka that launched me into the alcohol marathon.

The Jones aren't here anymore, they've moved to America. And posting these photos were the closest I could feel to them. Those rooms no longer inhabited, the stairs no more in use, the Red Hot Chili Peppers poster taken down, the beds gone, the couch gone, and eventually the Jones themselves left the building.

Thus ended our Kristi-Rory-May Zhee (KRMZ) nights. I said goodbye to two friends I could have kept for a lifetime, friends I still wish I can call up to spend a Friday night with (minus throwing up outside 7-11, or any place really), friends that just paint your life in that special color that no one can ever recreate.

I miss you guys :,-(

Here is my list of top ten Oasis songs.

1. Live Forever

1. Go Let It Out

1. Half the World Away

1. Morning Glory

1. Cigarettes & Alcohol

1. Supersonic

1. Importance of Being Idle

1. Stand By Me

1. Don't Look Back in Anger

1. Wonderwall

1. Champagne Supernova

1. Stop Crying Your Heart Out

Are you crazy you want me to rank Oasis songs I can't rank Oasis songs. I want any self-respecting Oasis fan to TRY and still be able to sleep the night peacefully.

Please don't put your life in the hands of a Rock 'N Roll band...

Realization and rant.

In preparation for my invasion of America I had to take a few immunizations here. Wait, did I say a few? I meant 29387932847928374 immunizations! (Which in non-exaggeration language means three.)

And after my second visit to the doctor, having yet another needle poked into me, I realized that I could get used to this. The convenient thing about humans is that we're conditioned to get used to anything. Pain, places, weather, longing, absence ... when someone is gone long enough in your life, you start to build a life around that fact and you acclimatize. It's self-defense, it's survival, it's us.

And hey I finally know where the Medical Reports office is in SDMC. This was the first time I've gone there alone, done things on my own. I've taken over the handling of my health and sanity from my parents ... feels somehow symbolic to me. I am my own mind now? I am an adult now.

Once I've gotten insurance figured out, I will be unstoppable.

***

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH I WANT TO READ.

I WANT TO READ:

1. ON THE ROAD

2. HEART OF DARKNESS

3. HIGH FIDELITY

4. FEVER PITCH

5. BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S

6. WHAT IS HISTORY

HELP. I WANT TO READ. BUT I'VE GOT NO MONEY. I'VE SQUANDERED ALL MY MONEY ON ALCOHOL AND MEN (YOU THINK WE DON'T PAY TO GO OUT ON A DATE WITH YOU? WHO PAYS FOR OUR TAXI FARES HUH) AND FOOTBALL (I BOUGHT A RUSSIAN FOOTBALL CAP?). HELP ME.

I WANT A BOOK WAREHOUSE SALE/SECOND HAND BOOKSTORE/SOMEONE TO BUY MY LIVER.

IF YOU WANT MY LIVER IGNORE THE PART ABOUT ALCOHOL ABOVE.

I WANNA READ. I MIGHT BE DRIVEN TO DESPERATE MEASURES.

I ... I ...

DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!