Quarter-finals, baby!

I did actually wake up past 6 this morning with a gasp thinking, "Spain won with a 3-0, right?" Then realized seconds later that I got that idea from my dream. And that's just how persevering my mind was even in sleep and still thinking of Spain winning against Portugal. Not that my dream/assumption is far of the mark; Spain won with a 1-0 scoreboard all thanks to David Villa, who just keeps scoring and scoring every damn match. To the quarter-finals, baby! I've read wisps of comments on how commentators will not shut up on Fernando Torres' lack of ingenuity in the pitch at the moment. Yes, it's debatable how much time will you give a player to adjust to his recent injury and play time before the pundits are starting to get impatient, but come on, cut the bloke some slack. Spain NT do not consist of Fernando Torres alone, fuckheads. In one of Torres' interviews, he actually has a point in saying it's more of Villa's task to get a goal in. With two strikers up front, one has always got to share the space and the ball to create chances inside the box for your partner striker. Torres is not stupid enough to know that he's just come back from an injury and not accept a less major task. I'm still downloading the Spain - Portugal match, which I'm absolutely anticipating. A big blunder on my behalf this morning to set my alarm, wake up, decide that Spain will win then go back to sleep. Seriously, the demon inside me simply pressed how exhausted I was and in a rather obnoxious way tell me that Spain's going to win over Portugal so why bother? That possibly led to my 3-0 victory dream. It's sad to see Cristiano Ronaldo and Pepe, players of Real Madrid and Portugal leave the competition already. Pepe just got his form and hair back and I haven't really seen him play at all in this tournament. I'm hoping to see him play more in the coming 2010/2011 La Liga season though.

The bloody despedida was the reason why I suffered from debilitating exhaustion that not even Sergio Ramos' toned body could rouse me from my bed. I had the opportunity to work at home yesterday to the agreement of my boss who absolutely forgot that there's a party after work for them. It's going to be Sir A and Sir G's despedida with the former off to vacation for a month, and the latter for a year of schooling abroad. I wasn't that convinced to go until I had decided to hell with it since there's going to be tons of food to feast on. The bosses decided to go for Katips which has a horrible service and unsatisfactory food. Good thing I bloated myself with enough nachos that I had little less proper dinner when the main platters came. Went home by past 9 along with the other officemates with half a bottle of vodka ice down my bladder.

Anyway, my right ankle has been bothering me for days. I'm not sure why there's a dull pain when I angle my foot upwards. I'm just hoping this wouldn't get worse since I don't feel any discomfort when I walk. Perhaps I have to stick with my sneakers for absolute comfort rather than my flats.

And what the fuck is the breaking news of David Silva off to Man City? Of all the fucking clubs to go to?! Gods, it's times like this that I'm absofuckinglutely furious of Real Madrid's continuous shunning of Silva who has been vocal in his dream to play for the club. Jose Mourinho not wanting him is a considerable factor then again, I've never been a drooling fan of Mourinho's coaching proficiency. The club's going to regret not considering a proper move for Silva.

Round 16

Watching World Cup matches are taking its toll on me; not that I'm complaining, but my share of sleep deprivation and sudden binging is a bit alarming. Technically, I only spare Spain's matches my entire attention though I manage to catch glimpses of other teams I'm partially cheering for. Early morning's match against Chile made such a mess out of me my crying from the Switzerland defeat looked like a child's tantrum. Everyone's contesting about the beauty of Villa's goal some 40 yards away, but really, that's one fucking amazing goal. A huge, absolute gaffe from Chile's keeper to run out of his box to counter the ball only to pass it along to Villa that sent Chile's play snowballing into panic mode. Reckless tackles and the onslaught of yellow cards chased them till half time whistle. I couldn't blame them with Iniesta earning the second goal, too. But really, with some respect to Chile, they were absolutely playing the game at the start, unsettling Spain's formation and defense with the ball possession constantly almost equalized. They were just too hyped up and aggressive that their tactics were turning against them with Spain's passes negating their moves. And for the record, that fucking goal on second half from Millar was totally unexpected, and not even the greatest keeper in history can stop it. Please review the highlight because even Pique and the gang of defenders were only able to stare at the ball slinging through the upper left in the net. So yeah? Casillas is a professional and a bloody veteran of the game. Pundits can go the fuck off, especially those bandwagon teens spewing critiques like they're the ace of all football comments. He may have had a stormy season in La Liga recently but I do think he's managed to work himself up into a tidy state since this is the fucking World Cup, and he knows it's Spain's golden era, and lightning never strikes the same place twice. And onto the brighter part of the match, topping Group H means Spain will face Portugal on the knock-out round; that's practically miles better than facing Brazil this early. That would've left me shitting my lungs and bleeding from the scalp in complete 3-hour agony. If Portugal still has yet to come down from their 7-0 cloud nine win over North Korea, then Spain has a fat lot better chances in advancing to the next round. I'm not sure those world class passing techniques of Spain can see much of the back of the net when they two teams almost share the same proficiency in dealing with the ball. And for the love of all things holy, please shut up about Fernando Torres' inability to shake off the rust from his recent injury an and treating it like a national emergency and generalizing it as Spain's upcoming defeat. Torres is not the only player in the team and Villa's bursting with enough libido to overcome Raul's all time scoring record in a few more games. Torres has had 3 games with nothing but failing shots and lack of effective usage of crosses and passes, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I seriously cannot see the hoopla over Torres's success, but that's me and my tendency to shun the EPL.

USA's going face to face with Ghana tonight, and the bloody fuck are they having a relatively easy path up? I'm still not taking them seriously and they can go fuck off with their soccer loving fans. Germany and England's match is going to be a lot more interesting. It's going to take more than a 1-0 win from England over Slovenia to dredge up the necessary confidence and skill from their veteran players to go against the youngsters of Germany who have the aplomb of a killer team; they nearly nailed Spain in the Euro2008, after all. Argentina, on the other hand, has had far more ease than most teams with their games. You can fault Maradona for everything he says to the media (and Pele! LOL) but you cannot fault his determination to see Argentina rise on top. I haven't seen any Argentina matches but with Pipita's hat trick still lingering gleefully in the back of my mind, I can't say I'm unhappy to see them progress.

In my more domestic news, I took it to myself to extend some effort and get my civil service certificate yesterday. The process was relatively easy and pain-free, a rather big surprise from the appalling standard treatment from government agencies. I got a passing but pathetic score, which obviously mirrored my lack of motivation and regression of knowledge in anything academic at the moment. Which leads me to a rather scary notion of failing my entrance exam for my master's. I can't stop thinking about the consequences and suicidal tendencies if I were to really fail a goddamn entrance test at this age, but fuck it if it's not for my inability to do anything than practice indolence like a nun on high. The scholarship program also took on a sour turn as there are no available slots for psych applicants. It's going to be a hell of a time saving money when I can't even stop myself from stuffing myself at the slightest hint of my mind and stomach rumbling in complaint.

I'm slowly enjoying Hard-boiled Wonderland; as always, Murakami's characters earn more than indifference with their personalities; there's always something definitely quirky and idiosyncratic that very much reminds me of anime. I got the chance to scour Booksale and got a good catch with Shakespeare's Othello and Measure for Measure. My eyes were as good as programmed to track down Card's name--which I saw, but it's not of the Ender series. It's a co-written work for a medical/thriller novel which I'm not really interest at the moment as I keep repeating to myself that I still have tons of books lined up on my bookshelf. Shakespeare is the great exemption. I can basically read his works and appreciate it even at my darkest hour of literacy. It looks a bump in the arse, but once you get the hang out of his prose, it's almost a cake walk to enjoy and appreciate his genius and wit.

As for work, the project's all out for extending my contract until October or at least until the project's completion. I'm not turning away from the immediate money here, but I seriously want to consider other job prospects already. I just need my post-grad units to apply for certain jobs and leave the entirety and possible worsening of the project with the top boss leaving a sense of hopelessness and enough dedication to blink an eye for the project's success. Beth managed to coax her project team to sponsor the fee for the psychiatry-related seminar at V. Luna this coming July, which led me to thinking that I might as well do some wheedling of my own to the boss to pay for it. It's only 300 bucks, but damn if I'm going to easily let go of my dough that easily when I'm preparing to cash out some hard bucks for my studies.

ETA: Pepe played in the Portugal-Brazil match! And I didn't even bother with the line-up, pretty stupid of me. It's good to see him on the pitch again, and I'm looking forward to see him back at Santiago Bernabeu making a difference in the defense!

Spanish Inquisition

Switzerland's goal against Spain held more of a rising anger rather than disbelief at the poor excuse for scoring. Indeed, it was purely out of luck that Fernandes was in the right moment at the right time, sweeping past Casillas' last minute defense and Puyol's tackle. In the first place, I've never been an entirely optimistic person however, the amassed positive energy and prayers for La Roja was overwhelming in the least of what I can describe. But with me bursting into tears seeing the scoreboard and realizing minute after minute that it's going to be futile even with Fernando Torres' arresting presence with David Villa, and Jesus Navas' exceptionally fresh techniques, then I knew at the back of my head that it would all go downhill. I was not beyond begging and praying though, to the heavens for a last minute miracle, with my heart jumping every time the Swiss got a chance to repeat a goal and their clumsy yet effective attempt at a solid defense against tons of Spain's goals on target. The two Mudshakes I had bought failed to simmer the misery over the defeat; enough that it still made my eyes water the morning after. Spain's playing against Honduras and the surprisingly solid Chile this upcoming week and I'm hoping that they can get their deserved points to get through to the knock-out stage.

On another World Cup related thing, there's this absolute blooming contempt against WC bimbos who suddenly sprout otherworldly extolment for the leading teams on the tournament. It's basically jumping the bandwagon of a popular sport to gain pretentious ideas; I fail to see the amusement and appreciation in this mockery. Still, there are tons of dedicated football fans who could not--for the love of their mothers-- stop hinting about the chasm amongst the Spain NT which is mostly dominated by Real Madrid and Barcelona players. If they weren't able to gel their goals and dismiss the pride of being archrivals then they would not have been able to become European champions in 2008. Seriously, they're grown men, long familiar with each other and it's only the fanatic fans of the respective clubs that chuck blue murder at every point and turn. It would only be in vain to dig the graves of the Spanish players who apparently lost the ball that produced the unfortunate goal and point the blame towards the clubs they play at. What with the absurdity of those accusations?

Anyway, work still has the same tedious quality. The project team already managed to finish their revisions for a subtest with another subtest to be edited next week. It seems like the boss still plans to extend my contract until the project's due date but I'm more worried on the efficiency and legality of re-aligning the budget for other allocated expenses also known as my salary. Of course money comes first. It's not like I'm all begging for the job although to say that I would be able to finish the project would be a good brownie point on my CV.

Back to back

Honestly, I never thought the phrase 'dead on your feet' is more accurate than life itself. The experience came from joining the family all the way to Bolinao with barely 6 hours of sleep in my system. Just the situation of waiting for a bus at 5-star terminal is one horrendous experience. I honestly thought they were as organized as Victory Liner but seeing the mass population running to and fro trying to locate their bus was the starting nightmare. It placated me enough though that the aircon bus I got was lovely. The next problem sprouted from me dropping at Bolinao in 1 in the morning with no one to fetch me from the damn island. I had to stare at nothing and finally gave in taking a nap in a goddamn bus terminal. The funeral itself was alright. Not many relatives, not much wailing--because I don't know what kind of face I would've produced with those kinds of mourning. I honestly love the food because shrimps, crabs, danggit and fruits are as common as trees, but I fucking detest the accomodation. Dad and mom tried to coax me to stay for a day--with the bait of island hopping and swimming the morning after but I was adamant in getting home to take care of the dogs too. That and the idea of doing my bath business and sleeping was as sour as one can take. Therefore, I only stayed for like 12 hours before hurrying back to Manila where I pretty much slept the entire trip with Avatar playing in the background.

Still relatively banged up from the trip and it's not helping that even Sir A texted me just to comment on the USA - England match. It's going to take the fucking apocalypse before anyone can take me away from watching Spain's first game.

On another World Cup note, I knew I should've asked at the bus station if their telly had a cable tv. Everyone was on high drama because of Green's crawling with his arse up in the air and the Yanks cheering like they won in the finals.

LOL America

Crossing

I kept waking up to the din of our dogs barking madly, which always made me sit up abruptly. The second or third time it had happened this morning a sudden rush of throbbing pain shoot to my forehead. Thus managing a pretty bad headache since morning--and I pretty much survived going to the mall to pay the some bills and fall in line for half an hour to get cash. The World Cup officially started three hours ago with an impressive opening ceremony of colours and performances; R. Kelly was the biggest disappointment though--other than some of his R&B songs, I'm really not into him. Sir A suddenly called me up, sent me into a mild panic thinking he's hounding some work-related issue at this hour only to realize he's asking about the opening ceremony. I'm taking a piss at myself. I haven't had a decent stream since the official kick off between South Africa and Mexico. I guess FIFA's monitoring all these streams or something; JustinTV's streams all went dead.

On a domestic note, I'm all alone in the house till Monday probably. Dad and my sister went to the province for my grandmother's burial. As usual, the idea of me not joining the family sent dad into a sermon last night which I successfully ignored in favour of sleeping in. I'm open to the option of following tomorrow morning but the thought of traveling with a damn headache and having a period is not at all appealing so it's still under consideration.

Sudafrica 2010

FIFA World Cup South Africa 2010

11 June to 11 July 2010

Obviously, four years is a lot of wait but it's usually always worth it to join the celebration of football fever with millions of fans. Anna's still not answering any forms of communication from me so it's going to be a pretty lonely World Cup opening. I'm still hoping to get some folks for the final games to some bars, which is a long way from here.

My faith's with Spain as always; I will look out for Iker Casillas and Sergio Ramos. Other teams I'll be eyeing are Netherlands and Germany. What about you?

Stacking up

My grandmother just died this afternoon and it was with a pang of regret that I could exude enough remorse to ponder over it. I don't know if I should be disgusted with myself over the idea of not giving much damn about it; it's not like death's unusual occurrence in life after all. The guilt of not even calling mom asking about my grandmother's situation, nor the dislike of going over to Pangasinan just to attend a wake or a funeral settles within my consciousness like mud. I hate attending wakes and funerals in the first place. I hate the crying, I hate the bereavement and the idea of reminiscing over long-lost family relatives I have no interest in. I try to justify the idea of mourning over my grandmother's death but I don't want to appear all the more hypocritical just because norms dictates it. Her death is officially the first my family has suffered which can be considered as a really close relative. Something which I really should give a damn about but I can't find where to draw from.

To a livelier news, I happen not to chance seeing my superior before he left for official business after being stuck at home for three working days. The growing alarm over officemates who are starting to notice the unusual affection between the two parties are worrying. Apparently, one of my superiors thought that I should have the gumption to breach the rather complicated topic since I'm good friends with one of the said parties. The problem is I don't like to meddle more than I can in other people's business. It's not like it's my reputation is at stake in the long run.

World Cup related hoopla: Anna who is my ever constant buddy for football related things has yet to inform me of our possible plan for the upcoming event. It's not like we haven't had four years in planning to polish it. I do hope we could meet up for the finals though, if not for the opening ceremony. The quarterly socials of the office will also be held on the same date, and it's not like that party can hold a candle against watching the World Cup. I've been to a total of three socials and there's not much surprise over the rather humorous performances and the food. In other words: a sad excuse for gossiping and sucking up to the bosses.