The trouble with Orange juice is- that it can go bad quite quickly. Also, its a tempestuous thing, delightful when fresh and proper; poisonous when not.
The Dutch soccer team, sadly, followed my prediction... and mind you, I almost wanted to be proved wrong. They flattered to deceive, and they flattered oh so well!
One always wondered how they would react when put behind- Nistelrooy's 85th minute equalizer had me believing that this time things would turn out different, that the Dutch claim to European glory ( twenty years after) was made of sterner stuff.
But, the Russians seemed to want it a lot more, and seemed to be fueled by that urge to rise from footballing anonymity. Ashravin embodied that desire, to perform at the big stage and earn his due place at a Barcelona or a Real Madrid...
A lot of things surprised me about the Dutch, in a good way- Nistelrooy became less of a ball-hogging, wasteful striker and more of a wandering-in-the-deep move-maker. For a stretch against the French, Robben and van Persie truly were mesmerising Flying Dutchmen (of course, only for a brief stretch).
But the man who was my hero, as much of a trier as van der Vaart, but with greater talent, was Wesley Sneijder. I confess that I haven't tracked his career, despite the fact that he is now at Real Madrid. Yet his rasping shots and relentless runs, even when the rest of the Dutch team looked dead and beaten, were inspiring.
I hope now that Spain wins this tournament- at least one team should get what it deserves for being talented and playing the beautiful game.
"I have a competition in me. I want no one else to succeed. I hate most people."
" There are times when I look at people and I see nothing worth liking. I want to earn enough money that I can get away from everyone."
"I see the worst in people. I don't need to look past seeing them to get all I need. I've built my hatreds up over the years, little by little"
All I have's this journal that I write
Sketches of a 20-something life...
I just finished Y- The Last Man; 60 issues at a stretch. It is, as expected after enthusiastic recommendations, quite brilliant. A sensational premise kicks it off, and the plot keeps getting better and better- it is almost exhaustive, in its scope and effort to tackle issues, sub-plots et al. Particularly attention-grabbing, in those moments when the story drags a tiny bit, is its recourse to panels detailing HLA, again a justifiable consequence of the premise.
After all, well begun is only half-done and a lot of story-lines, brilliantly begun, tend to lose their way. Prison Break, the TV series, for me, would have been brilliant if it had ended at Season 1 - but thats not how the TV industry works.
But, in Y, the twists keep coming, the body-count keeps piling up and everybody keeps fucking around- how can any guy stop reading? Which makes me wonder how the graphic novel fared with its female audience...
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The Euros are on, and once more, I prepare to get my heart wrenched, as a staunch supporter of Dutch football. Very early in life, I had made a few choices, and have stuck to them: for I had sworn my allegiance to Becker and Graf in tennis, to India (and Tendulkar) in Cricket and Holland in football. These choices may have been so, in opposition to my Brother's selection of Edberg, Azhar and Brazil; or my childlike response to a young Becker, a very young Sachin and the Oranje 1988 European Champion trio of Gullit, Rijkaard and van Basten.
Ever since, its been an arduous journey, what with some brilliant players turning out in Dutch colours (Bergkamp, Staam etc), playing attacking, attractive football- only to bow out in various semi-finals by missing penalty-kicks.
I would not wish to make any predictions this year, for the present Dutch team has a lot of promise, but no real venom ( I absolutely detest the over-rated Ruud van- ah! Bergkamp!); however, their demolition of Italy makes me want to believe again. If nothing, it atleast opens up the tournament, and the Group of Death even more...
As for the English team- the whole lot of pompous under-achievers- I guess they are happy making headlines with their splashy weddings and beach frolicking; one hopes they qualify for the WC atleast...
This summer ought to be a character-building exercise. I am in Mithapur, which is in Gujarat- just about a km from the sea. The nearest 'city' is Jamnagar; all of which indicates a dreary existence. The sun is relentless, the surprisingly cool and strong winds are the only saving grace.
Having just returned from Switzerland, from the St. Gallen symposium, it makes for a stark contrast.
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I have been reading a lot of Batman these days, in anticipation of 'The Dark Knight'. So, I am working my way through this list.
Read 'The Long Halloween' and 'Hush'- couldn't help but notice the similarities, with Jeph Loeb writing both. The brooding gets to you after a while; Batman appears to be quite self-centred. The Joker is relentlessly berserk- though, for a physically 'frail' (atleast in comparison to Batman) and essentially, a lone operative, he is too successful with his 'dastardly plans'.
May they give Heath Ledger an Oscar for his role, or a nomination!
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Just finished 'An Equal Music' by Vikram Seth: quite depressing actually, like the London weather (apparently). There's a lot of music and music-related discussion, anguish and unrequited love.
The book needs some sunshine and laughter.
On an enticing and unforgiving precipice, lovingly created by a mysterious Slartibartfast amidst the viciously folding fjords, I stand, in perfect form, yearning for that clarification. Face upturned, eyes hopeful, breath shallow in anticipation. The journey was arduous, but only just so. The reward, however, was great and wonderful and also, just, for it was now my time. As if on cue, the clouds parted and I saw the light...
Incredibly dense, must I be. Or very very scared. For nothing has changed- I feel no heavier, think no wiser, believe no stronger.
At the end of it, there is an overwhelming desire to unhinge. Literally. Balls to come out of their sockets, and synovial joints to 'decouple' in whatever manner they may do so, with little or no discomfiture. Limbs and extremities and ribs and the troubled head and the always bleary eyes. All stacked up in a nice little pile, useless and in an orientation of minimum energy.
The last thing a soul such as me needs is a way back to normal madness.
I agree, this sounds just boring, senseless and a tad self-indulgent.
Blah!
Although the title of this post hints towards a rather generalized hypothesis, the sum and substance of this post will quite necessarily focus on the workings of my own mind.
I think one of the charms of the 'Exchange' experience lies in the fact that it is meant to be unique; for the reaction to a strange ( yet strangely familiar) environment varies on one's habits, views, beliefs and scales of acceptance. The risk, of course, lies in identifying a particular style or way of life- and by the end of it, be completely disgusted and disappointed with your choices.
I have struggled, in no small measure, to come to terms with this change, partially because its something I have looked forward to for a long time ( and hence, a pressure to "have fun"; which is quite weird). There are so many ways I want to live through this that it is incredibly hard to choose and hence, as I have been advised, its best to 'go with the flow'.
Thankfully, this is not my first extended stint in a foreign land, or even North America. That is actually a good thing, because I am now used to the fact that I hate my conversational skills ( why do I sound so weird and retarded in an ordinary conversation? ), my physical inadequacies ( yup, these locker rooms are a nightmare!), my non-existent sex life ( there, I said it!) and my complete lack of enthusiasm for interaction or touring. Its incredible how I crave just lazing around letting my mind wander through a million issues and scenarios and other such utter bull-shit creating my own make-believe world.
And so, I wanted to utilize this opportunity to, in some way or the other, transform myself- I wanted to use the lack of academic pressure to sample subjects, dabble and indulge in things I always wanted to do ( music, theatre, screen-writing?) and kind of embark on a journey to seek knowledge by catching up on reading that I never did, from Camus to Kant and Justice League to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen...
Maybe, I could also, somehow, rekindle my interest for the nuances of Chemical Engineering, which I doubt ever existed- but if not, I could atleast re-discover my well-documented passion for Statistics and Maths.
I wanted to weave that seamless fabric of knowledge that covers my various areas of interest granting me the 'Big Picture', a balanced diet almost instead of morsels here and there.
On the other hand, this approach may interfere with the holy objective of every Indian student on exchange/internship- of getting drunk and laid, however difficult or easy that may be with the abysmal communication skills and suspect drinking strength (and the aforesaid inadequacies).
The ideal mix continues to elude me- where does the fun equation lead us? Should this be an exhibitionist, touristy journey of putting yourself 'out there' or a withdrawal into the deepest recesses of one's own mind and heart, a semester of pure, unadulterated introspection.
Should this be a semester of doing something new everyday or a semester of simply figuring out what you want to do?
In some measure, this was a cathartic post- by no means complete in its description of either the excitement or the all-pervasive insecurity. However, there is an undeniable pleasure in conquering some of your fears, being responsible and living on your own. I guess the mind will continue to work furiously- till I arrive at some solid ground, let me survive myself!
