Ball

My body opens up to receive the pass, having found a small pocket in the middle of the opposition defense.  Elliot spots my run, and slots one in between the center backs.  The ball was a little behind my right foot, as I tried to readjust to control it.  And as the sole of my shoe makes contact with the ball, the ankle buckles and the ball turns into a pincushion, sending a familiar pain up the leg.

I'm out of the futsal session for the day.  And it's only been two minutes.  I suspect that it's just a minor twist, so ignorantly I continued playing for the remainder of the two-hour session.

"Last goal!" shouted TJ as the lights went out, signalling the end of our day.  At this point the pain is becoming more apparent, as the adrenaline begins to wane off.  Having used my weaker left foot since the injury, I felt that it was time for a proper sending off.  Up to this point, I've seen two shots hit the post and a swerving shot from range tipped over by an alert keeper.

I wanted a goal.

Play resumed as Yin Xun starts at the left flank.  The other two teammates had occupied the box as they looked to saturate the left side.  Starting from the middle of the pitch, I ran down the right side, hoping to add some width to the attack.  Yin Xun spots the run, and lays the ball wide right.

As the ball travels straight towards me, I take a quick look around.  No player  within reaching distance.  Plenty of time for the strike.  I contemplated curling the shot with my left foot, but the ball was moving across my body.

Screw it.  My right foot's a goner anyway.  

I side-foot the ball, driving my foot through the ball as the opposition looks by.  The shot was driven low, and bobbles towards the keeper's right side, and nestles into the back of the net.  

I'd be celebrating with a fist pump by then, if I wasn't on the ground wincing in pain.  If my foot wasn't messed up then, it certainly is now.

Afterwards, it was revealed that I might have a sprain instead.  The swollen ankle is a dead giveaway.

Do I regret this?  Kind of.

But I would rather give my all for the sport I love to being restrained.

Chinese New Year is gonna be a little bit more tricky, though.

Hit It and Quit It - Funkadelic

500

Happy 500th post/10-year blog anniversary/24th birthday to me!

You could say that I had elaborately planned this all out, but then I'd be lying.

Shout out to Genevieve for having me wrack my brain to do something noteworthy for this milestone post.

Last week, I had watched Donald Glover aka Childish Gambino's new Netflix series Atlanta, and it is a fun mix of eclectic counter-culture criticism, humour, and rap culture.

So a few days ago my hostel room doorknob turned jammy and I couldn't open the door.  Fortunately, I had my now-obsolete credit card with me, and proceeded to pick open the door.  After 20 minutes of grunting and cussing, I finally got it open (much to the relief to me not having to breach that sucker).  This is a further justification that I should take up lock-picking as a skill.

Moreover, I just signed up to hike Mount Kinabalu with Pauline.  It's in early June, so I still have time to train and prep for the hike.  It will be amazing, either way.

As for the Micro Malaysian gig, the list of selected publishers had recently been released, so congratulations to Surya and Yan Chee!  I'll try better next time (to curb my propensity of forgetting deadlines).

Or... I could spend money to get some portable WiFi (my phone can't turn on its mobile hotspot feature, for some reason).  Then again, it's about time to consider changing my phone.  That thing is constantly testing my patience.

So... here are my Micro Malaysian posts.  As a quick reminder, the requirements for these submissions are that they have to relate to Malaysian culture, and only be 150 words long.

1. Amber meets Emerald

Amber.

That colour was created for you. 

Even if I were to forget your short dirty blond hair, the pinched ends to your eyes, your cheeks as they reenacted a chipmunk caching nuts, my Mind Palace continues to cling onto that hue.

I had overlooked your preference of tofu over Nasi Lemak, of baseball over football (soccer… ugh), your fear of needles to my fear of expression… and Trekkie appreciation over whatever it is Star Wars fans call themselves.

But it was all borrowed time.  Reluctantly I had left those fields of opportunity, away from your Minnesotan warmth.

The cabin’s low hum startled me, and I am reminded of my final sight of you: of emerald, engulfing those beautiful eyes as beads trickle down those cheeks, as murmurs creep from your quivering lips.

For the final time, I was left an emerald tint: the shade of an accidental lover.

2. Millennial(s)

“Now, listen”.

His eyes sharpen with purpose. 

Reluctant courage surges through vertebras as his chest expands, fist clenched.

“I’m 23 years old, and can decide for myself.” 

Eyes stare back, muted.  His primal instincts threaten to flood his bloodstream with adrenaline.

Is this fight… or flight?

His mind blanks out.  He goes for it.

“Can’t you see that I’m bloody miserable at work?  I’m overqualified, under-payed, and overworked.  This is absurdity!”

Farewell, composure.

“This archaic Asian belief imposes the flawed notion that I can be happy and succeed if I work hard enough, for long enough.  I won’t be fooled.”

Silence reciprocates.

“From now on, I’m taking charge.  My resignation has been tendered and I’ll move out come the weekend.”

---

“So how was work this week?” wrinkled hands clasp his.

Clouded irises catch his gaze.

“It was a good week, grandma”.  A crooked smile flashes as his torso tightens.

3. Homecoming

Crunching leaves, strewed across the bricked pavement, emulating the Sun’s colours.  Somehow, death looked beautiful, even for the slightest moment.

Powdered flurries prickling, as his breath forms smokes in the air.  Beneath layers of fabric his heart races, as howling friends glide overhead, lifting reinforced wood onto the hilltops.

The waft of flora, an envoy to ending freeze-thaw cycles.  Opaque facades replaced by plethora of vibrancy, as the synesthesia beckons avian songs.  Her visual palette oftentimes compliment the scent of beautiful women, and anti-histamines.

The blazing Sun, beating down waves of heat and nothing else.  A combination of being microwaved in the day, to barbecue dinners at dusk, of vacant summer classes and intimate relationships.

Finally, a blast of cool air-conditioning races across our/the protagonist.  The loudspeaker dings a familiar prompt:

“To all Malaysians, welcome home”.

But for the past few years, his heart was set on the Western front.

Flippin All Night - ILoveMakonnen

Content

Umm... Happy New Year?

So... I kinda need some content for this blog.  Cue cries of "Oh, what have I become? Having to churn out content like I'm a YouTube platform!".  

Oh...  Was that just me?  Mmmkay, then.

This is was ripped off Yan Chee, who ripped it off Tumblr.  So, yeah... 

If I was...

A month: January.

Partially because it's my birth month, as much as it signifies the transition of snow to slush but never quite blooming into springtime.

A day of the week: Wednesday.

When lots of interesting things happen, but it's (annoyingly) hump day and I have to work so I can't do said interesting things.

A planet: Pluto.

Because I liked it before it was disowned, and partially because I can be distant to Earthlings.

A sea animal: Hammerhead shark.

"Just keep swimming" - Dory For no matter what happens, a shark has to continue to swim to avoid dying.

A piece of furniture: Beanbag. 

Out of place, but very accommodating. 

A gemstone: Sandstone. 

Ordinary-looking, but does shimmer under some light.

A flower: (This was pretty hard)... White bougainvillea (I dunno...)

Aptly named "Bunga Kertas" for "Paper Flower", I like to think of it as my ostensible gravitation towards writing.

A kind of weather: Sunny showers. 

Uncommon, but not unheard of.

A color: Oxford Green.  

A little bit of brains, but only a little.

An emotion: Vexed. 

I always have this helpless optimism for humanity and taking steps towards being a more progressive and inclusive society, but humanity decides to fling poop in my face at every turn. 

A fruit: Durian. 

Guarded on the outside, polarizing in the middle. 

A sound: A finger snap. 

To call something or someone out, to remind, to sass. 

An element: Deuterium. 

Somewhat around. 

A place: Bear Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park. 

Some (arguably other "me's") say I'm still there. 

A taste: Roasted chopped garlic, in olive oil and light soy sauce. 

Inherently Chinese, even when I try to forget that I am. 

A scent: Sulphur and dried dirt. 

A minimalist/survivalist who still can't quite appreciate finer things. 

An object: Adidas X 16+ Stellar Futsal shoes (seriously, look that shit up; they're gorgeous).

Infatuated with football, and that will never change.

A body part: Right wrist.

The fulcrum which has helped me save at least two lives in the past.

A song: Talking 'Bout A Revolution - Tracy Chapman. 

About trying times, past, present and future. 

A pair of shoes: Adidas Supernova Glide 3 (was initially under "an object" category)

Those suckers took me all over the place for almost three years.

So there we go.  My first post of 2017.  

Sidenote, my submissions for Micro Malaysian didn't go through (for some unknown reason it was emailed after the deadline had passed).  So I'll eventually release them in this space.  Freebies.

Ode - Karencitta ft. R-Jay Ty