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Pushing the boundaries

Another round of masterpieces by Annie Leibovitz for the Hollywood Portfolio; equally mesmerising are the films these pictorial subjects have created.

Buddha on the mountain

Polite decorum versus outright mania. It may be hard to believe and completely against the principles of sports spectatorship, but I am a firm practitioner of the former code of conduct for a tennis fan. Applause after every point, mild curses directed at poor play, conversations with the television, a roar after a Federer win – that’s all.

It took two years of experimenting, but I have, at long last, contrived a winning formula for fan behaviour, which allows for positive karma to find its way to the court (indulge my nonsense, please):

• No guests outside of family, because blood is proportionate to my level of tolerance.
• No food.
• No access to Twitter.
• No writing of notes for a post-match blog post.
• Talking is only permitted between points and sets.
• Vanessa is the representative psycho for finals – shouting, floundering, spewing Mandarin phrases I didn’t think she knew, burying of the head in one’s hands, running out of the room when the score gets too close, etc.
• Relegated to nail-biting, Christopher contains the nervous energy.
• Grand Slams have become meditative – I maintain yogi-like concentration and composure (seriously, breathing exercises and the whole shebang).

In other words, we comprise a fun bunch with whom to watch tennis.

Golden oldie

The music motif was unintended – the Grammy Awards is simultaneously showing, so I’m just goin’ with it.

Like the Black Eyed Peas foresaw – it was a good, good night. Indeed my most feeble lead-in to a Grand Slam experience, but when a song is being replayed consistently in your head, you cannot merely disregard it and hope another will eventually take its place.

The same can be said about Roger Federer. When he repeatedly produces performances of great éclat, they must be acknowledged; when he shows no signs of diminishing, the cynics should be silent. He is the upbeat in the melody, who, upon appearance, signals a good, good day. 22 Grand Slam finals, 16 titles – they are the echoes that buttress the rock star.

The final was far from “easy come, easy go”. Physical strength and mental conviction in abundance, Andy Murray was an intimidating foe. Unfortunately, when push comes to shove, he only brought out the best in Federer and was unceremoniously outclassed and swept aside. The tempo may have soured with age, but the Maestro is still a litany of tennis beauty and prowess.

It seems wrong – and downright greedy – to demand a Calendar Slam from a player who has already achieved so much, but my fervent belief and optimism say that it is well within his reach. There’s no harm in dreaming bigger, right? “Go out and smash it”!

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Litmus test

Apathetic to the movie, but the poem is kinda great… Much like the man.

INVICTUS
William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced, nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me unafraid

It matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul

Persona non grata

An ill-advised move, rife with passive-aggression… But I’m opening this box of Pandora’s.

I lost my isolation somewhere between Down Under and Tiny Red Dot. Cornered – no, stifled – by spatial proximity, not helped by a cavalier sociopathy in my personal relationships, facets of behaviour that I have hitherto been able to ignore are now thrown into stark relief. ‘Don’t friend’ me – I’m still going to say it…

I know some asinine people.

Cutting them loose (wow, like dead weight) can be simple – telling them to amscray; swearing off their blogs and the drivel they write (not unlike my bullcrap); and for the coup de grâce, ruthlessly deleting them from Facebook and Twitter, so they know you’re serious. A no-fuss theory, but it gets complicated on its way to application. Even with all our imperfections, these people fall under the select category of ‘cannot do without (because you serve a purpose)’.

Cocoon no more

To attempt and accomplish (in order of importance):

1. A job in journalism or production.
2. An education on world politics and sport.
3. Conversational and written Japanese.
4. Physical fitness.
5. Driving.
6. Competent tennis.
7. Resistance against brain-rot.

22,336

I am going to hand in my Honours dissertation tomorrow, effectively completing my university education. It’s surreal, bittersweet… You name it, I feel it. In my writing, at several moments, I remembered you. Taken from my thesis acknowledgements:

My supervisor, Dr. Rebecca Suter, who has been simply indispensable in the past year – my sincerest thanks and deepest appreciation for your unceasing patience, graciousness and optimism, as well as your valued tutelage and guidance in and outside of this Honours programme. Having you as a supervisor has been a joy, indeed. Domo arigato, sensei.

Davina and Tina, my partners in crime during this pivotal stage of our lives – as we near the end of the different phases of our university education, having still kept our sanity, I am reminded of how much your companionship has meant to me. Thank you for the study sessions, text messages and cups of coffee throughout the year (not forgetting the previous three); all of which have given me the encouragement and energy to press on.

Jessie, Rosa, Preethi, William, David and Elizabeth – all blessed with analytical minds and wonderful personalities, whose corresponding journeys have been a great source of support. I hope our paths will cross in the future.

Ernest, Eliss and my cell members – I have never witnessed more generosity and willingness of heart, nor have I experienced a dull moment with you. Thank you for the laughs on the weekend and your prayers during the week. Keep in touch!

Kay-Lene, my dearest and ever-present ‘old same’ – thank you for sympathising; for listening to my gripes; and for not holding it against me when I do not have the time to hear yours. I am more grateful for you than I am able to express.

Gerard and Amy, my encyclopaedias and voices of reason – thank you for the sage advice you have dispensed, even before I undertook this thesis project.

Roger F., excellence personified – to me, he is the archetype of hard work and strength of mind.

My parents and siblings, for your unconditional love – words are not enough to convey my indebtedness to the affirmation you have shown in my choices.

Last but not least, my Almighty God – the comfort during my most uninspired days and my beacon in the darkest of circumstances. You have never left my side.

Miles to go before she sleeps

So, I said I would write with my left hand this year…