I think I need a break.

I hate the feeling of burdening people with my stupid non-issues and I feel like that's all I've been doing lately. I'm sick of writing entry after entry about nothing. I'm going to disappear and read, and write my damn essays, and see my beautiful friends, and record my songs, and try to resemble something close to an actual human being instead of a mess of words and thoughts and promises. I'm going to come back with fic, because that's the reason why I created this journal, and that's probably the only reason most of you have me on your f-list. I'm going to be productive and try to improve. I want to write things that people want to read and I don't think I've been doing that. At all.

I feel like I'm already on holidays. I've slept for ten hours over the past five nights and have seen more people and gone to more places than I have since Spain. I'm buzzing from a diet of sangria and coffee, I've given up smoking (for now), I've bought books and seen movies and written ideas and it just feels so nice to be doing something other than endlessly thinking about myself.

Over the next week, I'll be drifting in and out of the hospital to get tests and ultrasounds done, because after two years of being inexplicably sick, I finally decided it was time to get off my ass, figure out what's wrong with me and get some damn treatment. After that, my friends and I are heading down to the south coast for beachy vacationy happy time during which I plan to do all of the afore-mentioned writing and reading and such. And it will be wonderful.

I love you all a lot, and I'm particularly worried about a few of you. I'm terrible at showing it since I don't think I was born with a functioning heart, but I'm determinedly constructing one, slowly but surely. Please, please take care of yourselves. I care about you so much. You are beautiful, beautiful people who make me love football and writing more and more and more. Thank you and I can't wait to talk to all of you again as, hopefully, a slightly better person.

♥

Un. My nails are an offensive shade of pink. They remind me of Lady Gaga: ridiculous, and garish, and a little too much to take - yet I can't say no.

Deux. Chai tea + olives = best meal ever? I think so.

Trois. My digestive system seems to have finally righted itself, yay! (This will only be temporary, mind you, but it's a small victory.)

Quatre. As I was walking home today, a man, decked out in business attire, was sailing towards me. On a little kiddie scooter. As he got closer, I realised that he was my old music teacher. (MLIA?)

Cinq. Fernando Torres is such a dork. ♥

I SAW ROBBIE FOWLER PLAY AGAINST SYDNEY F.C. LAST NIGHT OH YES YES YES.




AND HE SCORED AN INCREDIBLE GOAL TO SECURE VICTORY FOR NORTH QUEENSLAND (should I be sad for Sydney?). LIKE, REALLY INCREDIBLE. If you're anything near a Liverpool supporter, you should probably watch it. Nnnnnnnow.




( nothing had changed in my routine, except that when i went down the chippy and got me special fried rice, it would be wrapped in a newspaper that had my picture all over it. )

Un. The Russian boy with whom I was obsessed last year owns (a) an Arsenal jacket; (b) a Chelsea jacket. I don't get it.

Deux. There are leaves all over the footpaths, tumbling cream and orange and red, making me slip as I walk. Sydney at present is brown and autumnal. But it still smells like spring.

Trois. I don't understand it when people say that they have no interest in traveling to certain places. I remember this girl in my French class once said, "I don't want to go to China. Or India. No offence." I don't see how you can just rule out a country without even seeing it. How do you know that you won't like it? I just think that, no matter where you go, you'll see something new and different and exciting, something that you can't experience by limiting yourself to pretty European countries or the confines of your imagination. I feel like everywhere is spectacular in some sense; I can't think of a single place I wouldn't like to visit.

Quatre.

"When the birth of my child happened, I had to take a decision to be with my family because it was an important moment. Last summer when the club proposed that I had to be sold to buy new players it was a difficult moment, but I accepted it as a professional. That moment changed my mind, from that moment it was time for a change."

-- Xabi Alonso.

I guess I've been avoiding the subject of this particular transfer. I still can't bear to read fic about it. To hear him come out and say this is pretty horrible. I wish he'd kept quiet, honestly; this stirs up so much ugliness. We all knew that his decision to be present at the birth of his son was (needlessly) controversial, but I didn't want to think that it affected anything. We all knew that the Gareth Barry saga was really hard on Xabi, but I didn't want to believe that that's why he left. But this confirmation sticks a knife in my naïve heart. I feel like we as supporters were so powerless. Despite our protests and our declarations of love and respect for him, it was decisions by the management that led him to leave; that dragged his pride through the dirt and negated every moment a fan waved to him on a street, or the Kop sang his name, or he won a damn 'star man' award on liverpoolfc.tv. He loved this club, and he wanted to stay, and I'm convinced that he would have if the people who are supposed to represent the needs of Liverpool Football Club had actually represented us.

Cinq. The Socceroos were pretty dismal tonight. South Korea totally outplayed us; we looked so shell-shocked by their pace and directness and sharpness in front of goal. We're a confident team, but I'm worried that it's getting to the point where the confidence is overstating itself and our boys are going into games thinking they'll be easier than they are. That's such a dangerous attitude to have pre-World-Cup, especially since we're struggling with injuries, and we don't have Guus Hiddink. I shouldn't let one (friendly) match make me so nervous, but there you go.

Six. I feel like I should end this on a different note (different to football-is-depressing, anyway). I read The Kite Runner on the plane back home from London, and it had me in tears that I wiped away in embarrassment as people slept around me. The story just got to me, and I was so surprised by that because the writing is fairly basic and is riddled with hyperbole and cliché. It's like how I can't enjoy beautiful lyrics if they're sung terribly. So I sat down to watch the movie at 2am the other night, an insomniac as always, and found myself in tears again. The film is so faithful to the book, it was like reliving that plane ride home once more. It was just so satisfying to know that I hadn't imagined the poignancy in all my post-travel delirium.

Sept. I'm an idiot. Can someone please tell me how to edit comments?

Title: Fated To Pretend
Pairing: Cesc Fàbregas / Iker Casillas
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex; language. A bit of a difficult theme that prudish readers may find improper.
Disclaimer: One hundred percent fiction.
Notes: For drbillbongo. Title taken from MGMT's "Time To Pretend".
Feedback > life. If you feel the need to give constructive criticism, please do.


( deciding in your youth on the policy of truth )

"Daniel Agger is walking again after his back operation" - Rafa Benítez.

...He wasn't walking? I'm sorry, but what part of that is meant to be reassuring?

I just dropped tea all over myself, again. What on earth is the matter with me?

I'm ageing, evidently. Liverpool FC is slowly but surely stripping my life expectancy away from me. Last night I must have lost at least another couple of months. It's hardly a bother, since the idea of growing old is quite petrifying, but I'd always envisioned some form of assisted suicide, rather than persistent heart trouble as induced by footballers who don't like to defend.

There are countless comments that one could make about that match, but I'm sleep-deprived (damn time zones!) and they've probably all been mentioned, anyway (our defense needs work, Glen Johnson is more exciting than most of us had predicted, Steven Gerrard deserves a country named in his honour, etc.). I would like to say, however, that I thought it was a wonderful gesture, all the boys in red wearing black armbands in memory of Cavalieri's father, who passed away a couple of days ago. Through everything, the sense of family and community at this club continually astounds me.

Also: I think that Yossi Benayoun's haircut is adorable. I have so much love for that awkward little intellectual.

Since I'm currently supposed to have typed up all of my notes on South Korean industrialisation and commenced essay-writing, I guess it's wise to leave it here instead of rambling further. BUT I would like to ask those of you who are more knowledgeable than me: does anyone know why everything in my layout (e.g. fonts - quite crucial!) has suddenly gotten smaller? Any ideas how to get it back to normal?

My mother is watching Eurovision, my dad is screaming about Elaine Paige and my sister is crying howling. I don't feel well, as nothing I eat has been willing to digest over the past couple of weeks, and the insomnia is back with a rather inconvenient vengeance. And I can't concentrate on Keynesian economics. And I'm not sure I can major in French, which means I'll have to major in Political Economy, which is just, well, shit. Here's hoping several emails will save me.

( and be so generous with the rest, they will always exceed their income. )

Don't read this, Greta.

Words can't even describe how utterly heartbreaking this is. I'll reply to the comments you guys have left me once I've recovered. :(

My dad, talking about Cristiano Ronaldo:
"I'm going to miss his free-kicks. I'll definitely have to start watching Real Madrid matches now."
WHAT SORT OF A LIVERPOOL FAN ARE YOU?? All he ever talks about are the Mancs and Ronaldo and Ferguson and Darren Fletcher (wtf?) and ughh, it's so exhausting. I don't get him.

Anyway. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

( I wish to initiate a discussion! )

Have some amusing pictures of amusing Spaniards, thanks to the wonderful crazy_girl_86 @ goals_are_love.

( I wish it were possible for Liverpool to buy all of Spain. )