after a whole day of wheeling and dealing with sweet colleagues and cranky curmudgeons at the same time, the thought of updating this page is always an exciting prospect. if only i could create and conflate unnerving and raw emotions into beautifully crafted paragraphs. this is my indulgence, a kind of longer and more vague version of the facebook status update or the high visibility of twitter. sometimes my replenishings takes days or weeks to evolve into a profound read. but i'm no longer as fastidious as when i was younger. my anal phase has been obliterated by exhaustion.
the sports week has been great, murray beat federer at indian wells. anybody who beats federer are my golden boys -- nadal, djokovic included. all hail wimbledon, there would be an uproar in the finals if the scot would even make the semis. i've never been to SW19. sampras is long retired, wtp. although the williams girls are still in the battlefield. but i can't shake off the inundation of hoity-toity hauteurs.
from little green balls, to white balls with markings. it was hard fought, but otherwise the much maligned tottenham keeper kept chelsea at bay on saturday while the lakers are still pushing for a best nba record. the nba playoffs are in april, while the premiere league's yarn is carrying on until may. it's great to watch football, but for reasons known only to me, i can't wait for this season's curtain call.
then there's the saga of manny pacquiao and murmurs and clamors behind his bout's televised coverage in RP. it's barely a month before the event and the pambansang kamao has got to concentrate on training. the boxer from manchester is no pushover. the brits are a bit clannish in behavior and temperament. we are too, in a way if we are not barricaded by our individual languages and dialects. generally, a few close-minded circles look down from way up above the tower. in some trenches and uncanny chicanes, the view is marginally still not color blind.
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