You approach me with a twinkle in your eye, smile on the ready. First time in a while you've talked to me. Lately, it's just been 'What's up?' or an eyebrow raise (or eyebrow raises) when we happen to pass each other or when I happen to be looking while you're passing through. Tough luck. We can't just go on doing that everytime you pass through and I see you because you are such a life of the party that you would be doing that ten or more times within an 8-hour duration.
Much as I'd like to strike up a conversation, I don't belong to your crowd and I don't make small talk with you when you're in your crazy/funny kind of mood, which I'm finding out lately is almost every hour of every shift. I don't know how to deal with you when you're that way. I am a serious gal with a serious outlook in life. I take things that happen seriously and respond to them with an earnestness reminiscent of law-abiders of old. (Of course, an exception to everything is when I'm with my closest friends.) And the times that we've talked when I sort of initiated the topics, you level yourself with my degree of seriousness which I've realized lately is not your usual. So yes, I don't really know you. And yes, you're kinda leagues away.
So why the sudden cheeriness? A favor. I see. Of course, I would use the same tactics when I need to do that same thing. But with your maturity and probably more pessimist view of life, you think everything can be manipulated. You were even surprised at my agreeing to your request without so much as a bribe. I don't operate on those grounds. I do things out of my innate goodness. And with you continuing to be incredulous that I would consent almost readily, I came up with something then in exchange for what you were asking - something only I would be interested in - but I opted to voice another thought instead. No shit. It would have been the perfect opportunity to gauge how I feel towards you. But no, it was a crazy thought. Will never voice it, at least not to you.
Much as I would like to say that I made this decision because I'm overall a good person, I can't help thinking that had it been someone else making the request, I might not have given in so easily. I may even have thought of something to render me incapable of acquiescing to the request. But even then when I was processing a call, I had half a mind to think about what you were asking and proposing so that not five minutes later, you've secured my agreement. (It helped that I convinced myself that I'm doing this for my own activities too this coming weekend. And that this will be a springboard for a favor I might ask of you in the near future when I would need a backup plan.) Hooray for you.
I thought afterwards that my doing this (heck, I did need a lot of convincing) would be in return for a favor you did for me back in March last year when I was going to watch the Stone Temple Pilots concert and they were having it on a Wednesday. Convenient for me that you periodically swap to have weekend rest days. And that's how I was able to match a name to your person, which had in fact intrigued me for a while already. For in anticipation of the approval of the other swap requested of me, I was periodically checking the announcements (the darn thing never appeared!) and so I've come to memorize your name, it with the very Christian bent attached to a personality less more so. Of course, you wouldn't remember it. I've somehow realized that guys don't remember the things that girls attach sentimental values to, like the clothes one wore that day, the date something significant (to her) happened or the circumstances that brought about certain situations. I had to remind you that first day we officially made acquaintance that I knew your nickname by way of that incident. And after that telling acquaintance, it gave a bigger reason to my having the means to find out something about you on the world's favorite website which was your name. Good thing your TL was already my contact then (he who I'd forever like not least for his suave voice and accomodating nature but also for continuing to call me by my full second given name even if it's been everywhere shortened to just the last two syllables).
Woah was the word. It was like something struck me deep in my soul when I saw those pictures. Like something became electrifyingly clear. It was you.
I was just randomly queuing songs from the 90s on my playlist to accompany me as I type this, and then this played. And it was like, I was hearing it for the very first time. And THIS. FREAKING. NAILED. THE. SHIT. I don't try to use words I don't really claim I understand in the empirical sense, but then this...
The video is itself formulaic and lacking the earnestness in Brendan's whiny voice but the words are pretty spot on.
And so for one little while on a Thursday night, in the 22nd floor of a busy office, I once again felt what it was like to be the object of your attention.
Snared as I ever am, I wonder again how long am I gonna be writing these stories of mine...
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
*football days once more...
I haven't seen any football action lately - not on TV nor for myself. Of course, I'd think about it every now and then. Whenever I happen to pass through the General Antonio Luna Parade Grounds aka the UP Sunken Garden, I'd look out and see if I could recognize any of the ball-toting players on the field. But I know that FC Sikad has made the QC Memorial Circle its home these past few months, so no chance of any familiar faces in the place I spent four years on as my playground. In fact, one time when I was remembering my college days, I could distinctly see myself in the Sunken Garden, not anywhere else in UP. It brought back not images of laboratory experiments or libraries but green grass, patches of soil and people in variously colored jerseys running around with a ball.
So last week, with school finally over (I'm amazed at my German 13 grade - I could do it, couldn't I? - as opposed to my German 12 - dang those imperatives which were tackled when I absented myself from class - and my Hapon 10 and 11 grades are ^_^), I had nothing else to do but indulge in my whims if not attending to needed chores. I decided to watch a La Liga game since I couldn't play, I might as well watch one of the best teams in the world show how it is to play beautiful football. Thank goodness for 1 Terabyte hard drives and fellow football fans and friends, one of whom has long ago shared with me some of the games she's downloaded (we're both Barca fans after all).
I watched a game from the 2010-2011 season of the Spanish Premiere League (La Liga for short), an away game for FC Barcelona against Atletic de Bilbao. Messi has been injured so I unfortunately couldn't watch him. But it was still interesting for me because I would see how a team without its great #10 play. And at the onset, they didn't disappoint. All the players were full of energy once the whistle went off, Barca more so, retaining possession at a little more than 70%. Perfect passes, short passes, moving the ball around and forward, the defenders ready to support the attack and midfield, anticipating each other's moves and moving into space... I only know so much of playing the game and very little of tactics that I can't really describe the game accurately. But you know this is top class football. There was even that amazing control by Andres Iniesta close to the goal line to keep the ball in play. Deym! Football in the Philippines doesn't even come close to this level. I, with my own football dreams, have no hopes of reaching this level. So you'd just be content to watch and wish you could do the same. It was also raining hard during the first half and every ball fought hard for that I could remember my own days in Sunken. I miss playing in the rain. Everyone of us would have muddy socks and shoes, and even shirts and shorts afterwards but it's not much of a hassle as long as you enjoyed. The hassle comes later when it's time to wash your gear. Everyone's happy after a game. After the game, we'd stay after changing our clothes and even getting a bite together afterwards. And the workout after hasn't been matched by anything I've ever tried since. I really miss playing! If only injuries could be easily flicked away so that you can just play on as hard as ever and you can just play for life and not have to do anything else...
While watching, there was also the realization that football has a long way to go before being entrenched into our culture. The Atletic Bilbao and Barca fans, like most of Europe's, were all prepared to watch and for the weather. They have the stadiums that can seat tens of thousands of people and everyone besides the teams and refs were wearing raincoats and whatever else they need to keep dry and sufficiently waterproofed. Filipinos haven't seen the beauty of raincoats yet - almost nobody wears that here even during the storm season. The last game of the national team I watched was so long ago, during the home game of the first leg of our WC qualifier against Sri Lanka in July last year. I bought a raincoat for the event but the quality available here is not so good. Others sneaked in their folding umbrellas which the bouncers eventually had to tell them to close since it was obstructing the view of the other viewers. So many could do nothing but get wet. It would have been better if I just watched it at home since I didn't see how the goals were made, the game being fast-paced and occurring on the other side of the pitch, or else, the view obstructed by the players themselves. We didn't have preview screens on the pitch. I daresay there isn't one till now. Our side of the pitch was also not getting updates about the score so we were just wondering for a time.
So it is in my bucket list to watch a top flight football game in Europe and feel the frenzy and the energy of the fans and the game... And also witness a World Cup match live. Woo!
Then my brother arrived from school and saw me watching football. He said he wanted to watch the third Goal movie, expecting more of the football action he saw from the first two installments. He was disappointed. The third movie dealt more with the pressures of professional football. The Mexican character of Santiago Munez was just a support here and he even got injured, making him ineligible for the 2006 World Cup. One of the other supporting cast starred in some obscure Dracula-inspired movie where he met the love of his life. And then he had to die. So we see the thread of this movie - the less glitzy side of this profession and the mature and personal side of footballers. The main character relies on alcohol everyday and he actually fathered a child whose mother decided not to tell him about it. Then the death of his friend kind of put things into perspective for him and we have a happy ending. Pretty unemotional to say the least.
Afterwards, I decided to watch FC Venus again, to be exposed this time to the feminine view of the game. It was just an ordinary movie for me the first time I saw it. Anna's boyfriend plays in the 7th division in Finland (the lowest division, so I hear). He and his teammates, most of whom are husbands and fathers, have dedicated their lives to football, making their families only second priority. Anna recruited their WAGs (wives and girlfriends) to form their own football team and when they win a game against the guys, the guys are to hand over the money they were going to be spending to watch '06 WC in Germany. If the guys win, then they will not hear any complaint about football from the women ever again. A tall order, considering that none of the women play or know anything about the game, except for Anna. In fact, she played very competitively when she was younger, resulting in a knee injury that she never got treated for. Her father is one of the more famous coaches around the world, that at her young age, he had to leave because he was given the chance to coach Korea. So that in effect, is why Anna had this personal vendetta against football, given what she had gone through for it in the past. She didn't want football to take away the men in the women's lives just as how it separated her and her Dad. This initially led to some problems in her relationship as the guy did not know a thing about her footballing past. And then she had to reject his marriage proposal and it was like everything was over for good. Just as it seemed that things were patching up between her and her Dad, the rift flared up once more, as she still hasn't come to terms with her Dad's job taking him far away from her.
I cried so hard in this movie. I haven't cried this much since April last year, and even then, not for a film. I tried watching it again to be able to pinpoint what it was that touched me about this. I guess it was the fact that here is an independent woman who knows what she wants and yet achieving it is a lot of uphill struggle, even pain. The helplessness is pretty overwhelming and it just drags you down for a time. First, she failed with her father. The next time, she failed over the person she loves. And we women, we don't just consider ourselves. With our nurturing nature, we consider the other people in our lives with the decisions we make. Anna didn't have anybody else, but when I think about myself in those terms and what I must live up to, everything can get pretty taxing.
That was the end of my football viewing for that 24-hour cycle. But this foray has brought me back into the arms of football, so maybe a day or two after, I decided to continue reading A Life Too Short by Ronald Reng. This book is a look into the tragedy that took the life of 32-year old Hannover 96 and Germany's keeper Robert Enke.
I started reading this a few months and distractions come and go so I was only able to finish it now. In the beginning, I was amazed into the new insights I was getting about football, in terms of team dynamics and politics - the old players versus the newer ones, the younger versus the older, the lone foreigner among the native players, being in a new country and speaking a new language, and especially goalkeepers. During our trainings, we all trained as field players. If we had a semi-official goalie, she didn't have specialized training, relying only on her skills and talent to try to keep a clean sheet. Most of us don't want to be on goal when we're playing either on the field or futsal. So it was a revelation to find out what goalies think about when they're in a game, their moves and tactics. Sure, I see amazing saves every now and then on TV, but I've never imagined how much analysis, effort and practice is needed to achieve that level of play-reading, instinct, tactics and reflexes needed at the right moment to not allow or lessen any chances of the opponent to score.
I've heard about Robert Enke around August of 2010 when the Mannschaft fans over at LJ mentioned him in a post about the national team (die Mannschaft) players paying him tribute. (This team is all about team spirit and I love them so much because of it.) That he took his life even though he's on goal for the national team was a fact I casually glossed over as I went to more of the juicy pics and posts, until someone got a hold of this book and shared it. I downloaded it out of curiosity.
Robert is said to be one of the more modern players; he was among the generation of players to start playing for clubs abroad. He first played for Benfica in Portugal, and it is evident how much he loved the country as he and his wife Teresa loved to vacation there. Then he was snapped up by Barca, then under Louis van Gaal. But contrary to what he was promised, he barely appeared for the team. A young Victor Valdes was usually on goal after the first choice keeper suffered an injury. And there is a shock when he is suddenly asked to play against a lower tier team, an amateur by their standards, and they lose.
Next, he makes a move to Turkey but the depression has already hit him and all of a sudden, he turns around and is unemployed for a season until 2nd division Tenerife in Spain snaps him up. The last move he makes is to Hannover where he played for four years and was even named captain. And it is at this time that he is finally given the chance to man the goals for die Mannschaft, with the end of the Kahn-Lehmann era. But all through those years, he still remembers the good days in Lisbon and why he ever left the place.
When you're a talented sportsman, intrigue is never far, especially since you're in the public eye. And since goalkeepers are the last line of defense, it can get pretty difficult to not blame yourself about goals conceded. Many goalkeepers have certainly come to terms with this but maybe for some, it is just a tad bit more difficult. There is the pressure of living up to the coach's, team's and fans' expectations. But I believe all these could be dealt with.
It was written that Robert Enke is one of the people who is susceptible to the depression. So no matter what the circumstances, the black dog would just appear out of nowhere even if there's no logical explanation as to why. He suffered from it twice; once in 2003 from which he eventually recovered, and then the second time in 2009 from which he decided it was better to end his suffering by ending his life. It was in this latter part of his depression that I felt I could relate to what he went through. Reng wrote that the pitfall of depression is that it makes you feel you can't do anything, and yet when you don't, you'll feel all the more depressed because of this failure. Just like me. I even had suicidal thoughts when I was younger, in late elementary or early high school, I think. I've gone past thinking such thoughts. But in the last decade, I've felt really, depressingly down a lot of times. The latest ones have lasted for days and after that point, I still don't seem to know what to do with myself to prevent my feeling inadequate in the future, and I'm just whiling away my time, enjoying myself until the next self-bashing hits me again. The pattern lately is that after a time of feeling joy, happiness or euphoria over what has happened (e.g. good times with friends) or what is about to happen (usually some sort of travel I'm excited about), my mind automatically veers towards that dark path. I don't know if I"m telling myself that I don't deserve to experience joy, but all of a sudden, I'd lose my enthusiasm for life. And I'd just lie in bed wallowing in it, not talking to anyone. And I'd berate myself for wasting a lot of time thinking about it instead of just doing something. But I'd still go on doing it. And then somehow the darkness will lift. And II'll be alright again... until the next bout.
I've never thought of suicide since I stepped into college so that's a positive sign. I just don't know how to rally myself when I feel down.
From the book, I saw more of what depression does to a person and to the people surrounding him, especially since Enke is a goalkeeper, a team captain, a friend, a father and husband. It was helpful that he wrote some notes so we got an insight on what his thoughts and emotions were.
Ending a life is really sad. Deceiving everyone that all is well because he's finally come to terms with what he's about to do - it's not surprising that many are shocked, most of all the people who knew him as an intelligent and sensitive person, a professional in a field when others reveled in the intrigue and media glitz. He didn't like competing with his fellow goalkeepers, even becoming close to Rene Adler who was his top competitor for the first choice position in the national team. I believe I'm not as an extreme of a case as he was, but I do wish that I'd see more beautiful things in my life and avoid dragging myself down.
Last minute addition: I just read yesterday that Ronaldo has retired from football. It was a battle between his body and the game and he could no longer keep up with the demands of the sport with the hyperthyroidism thwarting his efforts to maintain his weight. I wasn't aware of him at the time he was at his peak, only hearing mentions of his name with no proof of his skills, so I couldn't really sympathise with fans of the #9 who wowed the world (and now I know where my friend got his email address ronaldo_the_phenom - from the man himself). But it is not the best news to find out that one is retiring from the game you love because sickness has gotten the better of your body.
* It's pretty sad that I'm using this title not because I'm playing again, but because I'm experiencing football once more but only from second- and even third-hand accounts. Life is really complicated. You can't just get what you want anymore.
 |
| Playing 7-a-side football in the Ateneo field sometime in 2007 |
My college life was defined by football. I couldn't get enough of it. I'd play after class, on weekends, even if I have upcoming exams, after lab experiments doing my thesis. Now, I've had zilch for how many months. One reason for this is that my spikes have seen fit to retire after some 6 years of on and off usage. And then during the days that there are schedules for futsal training, I am unable to go because of my work schedule.
 |
| Puddles of water everywhere, mud flying, the ball hardly moving |
 |
| resting in between games - cold, muddy and all |
I watched a game from the 2010-2011 season of the Spanish Premiere League (La Liga for short), an away game for FC Barcelona against Atletic de Bilbao. Messi has been injured so I unfortunately couldn't watch him. But it was still interesting for me because I would see how a team without its great #10 play. And at the onset, they didn't disappoint. All the players were full of energy once the whistle went off, Barca more so, retaining possession at a little more than 70%. Perfect passes, short passes, moving the ball around and forward, the defenders ready to support the attack and midfield, anticipating each other's moves and moving into space... I only know so much of playing the game and very little of tactics that I can't really describe the game accurately. But you know this is top class football. There was even that amazing control by Andres Iniesta close to the goal line to keep the ball in play. Deym! Football in the Philippines doesn't even come close to this level. I, with my own football dreams, have no hopes of reaching this level. So you'd just be content to watch and wish you could do the same. It was also raining hard during the first half and every ball fought hard for that I could remember my own days in Sunken. I miss playing in the rain. Everyone of us would have muddy socks and shoes, and even shirts and shorts afterwards but it's not much of a hassle as long as you enjoyed. The hassle comes later when it's time to wash your gear. Everyone's happy after a game. After the game, we'd stay after changing our clothes and even getting a bite together afterwards. And the workout after hasn't been matched by anything I've ever tried since. I really miss playing! If only injuries could be easily flicked away so that you can just play on as hard as ever and you can just play for life and not have to do anything else...
 |
| After expertly trapping the ball with his instep close to the goal line, Andres Iniesta prepares to flick the ball back to a teammate before its second bounce - wish I have videos or gifs so you'll the awesomeness better :( |
While watching, there was also the realization that football has a long way to go before being entrenched into our culture. The Atletic Bilbao and Barca fans, like most of Europe's, were all prepared to watch and for the weather. They have the stadiums that can seat tens of thousands of people and everyone besides the teams and refs were wearing raincoats and whatever else they need to keep dry and sufficiently waterproofed. Filipinos haven't seen the beauty of raincoats yet - almost nobody wears that here even during the storm season. The last game of the national team I watched was so long ago, during the home game of the first leg of our WC qualifier against Sri Lanka in July last year. I bought a raincoat for the event but the quality available here is not so good. Others sneaked in their folding umbrellas which the bouncers eventually had to tell them to close since it was obstructing the view of the other viewers. So many could do nothing but get wet. It would have been better if I just watched it at home since I didn't see how the goals were made, the game being fast-paced and occurring on the other side of the pitch, or else, the view obstructed by the players themselves. We didn't have preview screens on the pitch. I daresay there isn't one till now. Our side of the pitch was also not getting updates about the score so we were just wondering for a time.
 |
| raincoat-wearing fans |
So it is in my bucket list to watch a top flight football game in Europe and feel the frenzy and the energy of the fans and the game... And also witness a World Cup match live. Woo!
Then my brother arrived from school and saw me watching football. He said he wanted to watch the third Goal movie, expecting more of the football action he saw from the first two installments. He was disappointed. The third movie dealt more with the pressures of professional football. The Mexican character of Santiago Munez was just a support here and he even got injured, making him ineligible for the 2006 World Cup. One of the other supporting cast starred in some obscure Dracula-inspired movie where he met the love of his life. And then he had to die. So we see the thread of this movie - the less glitzy side of this profession and the mature and personal side of footballers. The main character relies on alcohol everyday and he actually fathered a child whose mother decided not to tell him about it. Then the death of his friend kind of put things into perspective for him and we have a happy ending. Pretty unemotional to say the least.
Afterwards, I decided to watch FC Venus again, to be exposed this time to the feminine view of the game. It was just an ordinary movie for me the first time I saw it. Anna's boyfriend plays in the 7th division in Finland (the lowest division, so I hear). He and his teammates, most of whom are husbands and fathers, have dedicated their lives to football, making their families only second priority. Anna recruited their WAGs (wives and girlfriends) to form their own football team and when they win a game against the guys, the guys are to hand over the money they were going to be spending to watch '06 WC in Germany. If the guys win, then they will not hear any complaint about football from the women ever again. A tall order, considering that none of the women play or know anything about the game, except for Anna. In fact, she played very competitively when she was younger, resulting in a knee injury that she never got treated for. Her father is one of the more famous coaches around the world, that at her young age, he had to leave because he was given the chance to coach Korea. So that in effect, is why Anna had this personal vendetta against football, given what she had gone through for it in the past. She didn't want football to take away the men in the women's lives just as how it separated her and her Dad. This initially led to some problems in her relationship as the guy did not know a thing about her footballing past. And then she had to reject his marriage proposal and it was like everything was over for good. Just as it seemed that things were patching up between her and her Dad, the rift flared up once more, as she still hasn't come to terms with her Dad's job taking him far away from her.
I cried so hard in this movie. I haven't cried this much since April last year, and even then, not for a film. I tried watching it again to be able to pinpoint what it was that touched me about this. I guess it was the fact that here is an independent woman who knows what she wants and yet achieving it is a lot of uphill struggle, even pain. The helplessness is pretty overwhelming and it just drags you down for a time. First, she failed with her father. The next time, she failed over the person she loves. And we women, we don't just consider ourselves. With our nurturing nature, we consider the other people in our lives with the decisions we make. Anna didn't have anybody else, but when I think about myself in those terms and what I must live up to, everything can get pretty taxing.
That was the end of my football viewing for that 24-hour cycle. But this foray has brought me back into the arms of football, so maybe a day or two after, I decided to continue reading A Life Too Short by Ronald Reng. This book is a look into the tragedy that took the life of 32-year old Hannover 96 and Germany's keeper Robert Enke.
I started reading this a few months and distractions come and go so I was only able to finish it now. In the beginning, I was amazed into the new insights I was getting about football, in terms of team dynamics and politics - the old players versus the newer ones, the younger versus the older, the lone foreigner among the native players, being in a new country and speaking a new language, and especially goalkeepers. During our trainings, we all trained as field players. If we had a semi-official goalie, she didn't have specialized training, relying only on her skills and talent to try to keep a clean sheet. Most of us don't want to be on goal when we're playing either on the field or futsal. So it was a revelation to find out what goalies think about when they're in a game, their moves and tactics. Sure, I see amazing saves every now and then on TV, but I've never imagined how much analysis, effort and practice is needed to achieve that level of play-reading, instinct, tactics and reflexes needed at the right moment to not allow or lessen any chances of the opponent to score.
I've heard about Robert Enke around August of 2010 when the Mannschaft fans over at LJ mentioned him in a post about the national team (die Mannschaft) players paying him tribute. (This team is all about team spirit and I love them so much because of it.) That he took his life even though he's on goal for the national team was a fact I casually glossed over as I went to more of the juicy pics and posts, until someone got a hold of this book and shared it. I downloaded it out of curiosity.
Robert is said to be one of the more modern players; he was among the generation of players to start playing for clubs abroad. He first played for Benfica in Portugal, and it is evident how much he loved the country as he and his wife Teresa loved to vacation there. Then he was snapped up by Barca, then under Louis van Gaal. But contrary to what he was promised, he barely appeared for the team. A young Victor Valdes was usually on goal after the first choice keeper suffered an injury. And there is a shock when he is suddenly asked to play against a lower tier team, an amateur by their standards, and they lose.
Next, he makes a move to Turkey but the depression has already hit him and all of a sudden, he turns around and is unemployed for a season until 2nd division Tenerife in Spain snaps him up. The last move he makes is to Hannover where he played for four years and was even named captain. And it is at this time that he is finally given the chance to man the goals for die Mannschaft, with the end of the Kahn-Lehmann era. But all through those years, he still remembers the good days in Lisbon and why he ever left the place.
 |
| I don't know the player on the left and Per Mertesacker on the right, playing for die Mannschaft |
When you're a talented sportsman, intrigue is never far, especially since you're in the public eye. And since goalkeepers are the last line of defense, it can get pretty difficult to not blame yourself about goals conceded. Many goalkeepers have certainly come to terms with this but maybe for some, it is just a tad bit more difficult. There is the pressure of living up to the coach's, team's and fans' expectations. But I believe all these could be dealt with.
It was written that Robert Enke is one of the people who is susceptible to the depression. So no matter what the circumstances, the black dog would just appear out of nowhere even if there's no logical explanation as to why. He suffered from it twice; once in 2003 from which he eventually recovered, and then the second time in 2009 from which he decided it was better to end his suffering by ending his life. It was in this latter part of his depression that I felt I could relate to what he went through. Reng wrote that the pitfall of depression is that it makes you feel you can't do anything, and yet when you don't, you'll feel all the more depressed because of this failure. Just like me. I even had suicidal thoughts when I was younger, in late elementary or early high school, I think. I've gone past thinking such thoughts. But in the last decade, I've felt really, depressingly down a lot of times. The latest ones have lasted for days and after that point, I still don't seem to know what to do with myself to prevent my feeling inadequate in the future, and I'm just whiling away my time, enjoying myself until the next self-bashing hits me again. The pattern lately is that after a time of feeling joy, happiness or euphoria over what has happened (e.g. good times with friends) or what is about to happen (usually some sort of travel I'm excited about), my mind automatically veers towards that dark path. I don't know if I"m telling myself that I don't deserve to experience joy, but all of a sudden, I'd lose my enthusiasm for life. And I'd just lie in bed wallowing in it, not talking to anyone. And I'd berate myself for wasting a lot of time thinking about it instead of just doing something. But I'd still go on doing it. And then somehow the darkness will lift. And II'll be alright again... until the next bout.
I've never thought of suicide since I stepped into college so that's a positive sign. I just don't know how to rally myself when I feel down.
From the book, I saw more of what depression does to a person and to the people surrounding him, especially since Enke is a goalkeeper, a team captain, a friend, a father and husband. It was helpful that he wrote some notes so we got an insight on what his thoughts and emotions were.
Ending a life is really sad. Deceiving everyone that all is well because he's finally come to terms with what he's about to do - it's not surprising that many are shocked, most of all the people who knew him as an intelligent and sensitive person, a professional in a field when others reveled in the intrigue and media glitz. He didn't like competing with his fellow goalkeepers, even becoming close to Rene Adler who was his top competitor for the first choice position in the national team. I believe I'm not as an extreme of a case as he was, but I do wish that I'd see more beautiful things in my life and avoid dragging myself down.
Last minute addition: I just read yesterday that Ronaldo has retired from football. It was a battle between his body and the game and he could no longer keep up with the demands of the sport with the hyperthyroidism thwarting his efforts to maintain his weight. I wasn't aware of him at the time he was at his peak, only hearing mentions of his name with no proof of his skills, so I couldn't really sympathise with fans of the #9 who wowed the world (and now I know where my friend got his email address ronaldo_the_phenom - from the man himself). But it is not the best news to find out that one is retiring from the game you love because sickness has gotten the better of your body.
* It's pretty sad that I'm using this title not because I'm playing again, but because I'm experiencing football once more but only from second- and even third-hand accounts. Life is really complicated. You can't just get what you want anymore.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
still disinclined to acquiesce to the rational mind's request
April..
Just like that, it's been a year since the spark was ignited.
That's probably why I feel like lately, I've been bombarded with things related to you. And that may just be my inner voice working to find acceptable explanations for what I am experiencing other than that it's just a random coincidence. Emphasis on random.
Yours is not exactly an uncommon name. It gets pretty well used as a mnemonic for a letter when we are required to spell - a necessity in our line of work - besides the military mnemonic and that other Christian name. And with it having a Spanish counterpart, even it is a common name in my German textbook or for sample sentences in class. I even saw it on a store sign, some saint or other, and heard it on the radio as well.
And with all the brouhaha at work, I'm exposed to you than I normally would have been months past. With some sort of normalcy settling in at work, the distances have become shorter and conversations in other rows are more easily heard here than in our previous site. You don't know it but I'm tuned in to you than to any other being in the four-or-so walls of that office.
I don't know when I first realized it but you use this one cologne. I realized it one day when I was close enough one time too many, so much so that during the last day at the previous site, I was wondering where you were. On my way to the CR, I sensed it. You were in the vicinity of where I was passing through and true enough, yonder is a semi-bald head. On my way back, I guess you even acknowledged me.
And so last night got me wondering whether the air flow was pretty strong and you were sitting right below the air conditioning that for a time, I could smell you. Just you, in fact. None of the powdery smell we get from the AC from time to time. The smell is really good but still you know, male. I wonder if the others realized you were the one permeating their noses. Probably the ones you have regular contact with. Really. Talk about being bombarded with stimuli. Like reading your name in the sign up sheet before I started work last night wasn't enough to make my mindcogs working overtime over things not being coincidental.
So this got my imagination working up once again, that it has me a bit scared for a time. What if I turn into a lovesick creature once again? But no, no chance of that. I've let go of any romantic notions for good, the kind that makes me feel down. My mind delights in it, but it is no longer the destructive kind. I am just savoring this feeling of liking someone well enough that I don't care about whether any developments would be expected. But still, no matter how much I tell myself that I'm gonna stop thinking about you, I am in the office anticipating the next encounter.
I was even considering the possibilities when I took on the overtime request. I decided not to push through with it later on due to headache and fever brought about by lack of sleep. And then when I was preparing to leave, there you were in the flesh. Not just a scent nor a voice from rows beyond nor the sound of keys walking the aisle but you yourself stationing behind me, beside my teammate. With almost non-existent acknowledgment on each side, I still managed to ask my teammate the question I just then remembered and bid him goodbye. Good thing you were pretty busy with a call, that that may function as an excuse to not talk to you before I left. 'Twas because I worked it in myself to be scared of what was happening, even if in hindsight there was none. Silly imagination. Silly me.
Yes, the saga continues, every bit as one-sided as it was before.
*title inspired by Capt. Barbosa's response to Elizabeth Swann in the first Pirates of the Carribean when she asked to be released: "...disinclined to acquiesce to your request..."
Just like that, it's been a year since the spark was ignited.
That's probably why I feel like lately, I've been bombarded with things related to you. And that may just be my inner voice working to find acceptable explanations for what I am experiencing other than that it's just a random coincidence. Emphasis on random.
Yours is not exactly an uncommon name. It gets pretty well used as a mnemonic for a letter when we are required to spell - a necessity in our line of work - besides the military mnemonic and that other Christian name. And with it having a Spanish counterpart, even it is a common name in my German textbook or for sample sentences in class. I even saw it on a store sign, some saint or other, and heard it on the radio as well.
And with all the brouhaha at work, I'm exposed to you than I normally would have been months past. With some sort of normalcy settling in at work, the distances have become shorter and conversations in other rows are more easily heard here than in our previous site. You don't know it but I'm tuned in to you than to any other being in the four-or-so walls of that office.
I don't know when I first realized it but you use this one cologne. I realized it one day when I was close enough one time too many, so much so that during the last day at the previous site, I was wondering where you were. On my way to the CR, I sensed it. You were in the vicinity of where I was passing through and true enough, yonder is a semi-bald head. On my way back, I guess you even acknowledged me.
And so last night got me wondering whether the air flow was pretty strong and you were sitting right below the air conditioning that for a time, I could smell you. Just you, in fact. None of the powdery smell we get from the AC from time to time. The smell is really good but still you know, male. I wonder if the others realized you were the one permeating their noses. Probably the ones you have regular contact with. Really. Talk about being bombarded with stimuli. Like reading your name in the sign up sheet before I started work last night wasn't enough to make my mindcogs working overtime over things not being coincidental.
So this got my imagination working up once again, that it has me a bit scared for a time. What if I turn into a lovesick creature once again? But no, no chance of that. I've let go of any romantic notions for good, the kind that makes me feel down. My mind delights in it, but it is no longer the destructive kind. I am just savoring this feeling of liking someone well enough that I don't care about whether any developments would be expected. But still, no matter how much I tell myself that I'm gonna stop thinking about you, I am in the office anticipating the next encounter.
I was even considering the possibilities when I took on the overtime request. I decided not to push through with it later on due to headache and fever brought about by lack of sleep. And then when I was preparing to leave, there you were in the flesh. Not just a scent nor a voice from rows beyond nor the sound of keys walking the aisle but you yourself stationing behind me, beside my teammate. With almost non-existent acknowledgment on each side, I still managed to ask my teammate the question I just then remembered and bid him goodbye. Good thing you were pretty busy with a call, that that may function as an excuse to not talk to you before I left. 'Twas because I worked it in myself to be scared of what was happening, even if in hindsight there was none. Silly imagination. Silly me.
Yes, the saga continues, every bit as one-sided as it was before.
*title inspired by Capt. Barbosa's response to Elizabeth Swann in the first Pirates of the Carribean when she asked to be released: "...disinclined to acquiesce to your request..."
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