Blood is thicker than water.
written: 6:11 p.m. on Sunday, Jun. 28, 2009

Read something on RogerFederer.com about the supposed feud between Roger and Andy Murray.

All I can say is that Roger doesn't have the time, nor does he need to, expend energy thinking about Andy Murray. It would take a colossal effort for anyone to get within touching distance of wrestling Wimbledon from Roger. Murray may have beaten Roger the last four times they met, but the fact still remains that he's never got anywhere close to beating him in a Grand Slam final. In fact, the last time Murray got past the QF of a Grand Slam was last year's US Open in which he lost to Roger in straight sets.

Grass may be a favourable surface for him, and he does have the home crowd on his side. But it's Roger Federer we're talking about. He's made 20 straight Grand Slam semi-finals. Do you know what an amazing achievement that is? He would've made I don't even know how many straight GS finals if he hadn't been inflicted with mono last year.

So I ask the question: Does Roger need to spend time talking about and thinking about Murray? No, he doesn't. He is the alpha and omega of tennis, and a little runt like Andy Murray isn't going to rattle him.

*

In other news, I went swimming today despite the fact that I woke up this afternoon with my entire body aching like mad. Something is quite wrong when even my back hurts, and my shoulders, not just my arms and legs.

Actually, this might mean that I'm finally playing tennis correctly. Kind of, I guess, I don't know. It's really tiring to constantly side-step when you're playing, and the knee-bend to hit a ball is not very kind on the back. And let's not get started on how damaging it is to my knees to run around on a hard court, and I already have a pre-existing nonsensical cartilage problem (i.e. my knee cartilages were worn out quite long ago. Like when I was 14. I haven't gone back to the doctor for a check up in years because they have been okay...until now).

Um, my point, before I get lost on a tangent, is that I'd take my aching back as a sign that I'm playing tennis correctly. Maybe I'm wrong, which wouldn't surprise me; I'm usually wrong about these things.

Swimming today was fantastic though. I paced myself really well and only stopped swimming when my stupid goggles (shit I typed "googles" at first) got way too fogged up which made me think I was seeing scary things that weren't there. I'm such a girl, right? I know.

But it was really good and relaxing. It was my second time swimming in two months. I ought to do it more often, especially because it exercises my whole body - unlike tennis, where my right arm gets more of a work out than my left.

To be perfectly honest, I love my figure right now. Of course the tummy can feel free to fuck off anytime, but I've been at war with it since forever, such that I'm on the verge of conceding defeat. I think, too, that tennis has done wonders for my figure. Maria Sharapova has the perfect figure in my opinion - slim, not skinny, and muscular but not overly so. She has gorgeous legs and gorgeous toned arms, and isn't built like a man like Serena Williams and Dinara Safina are. I love Hantuchova's figure too, but if it's a choice between her and Sharapova, I'd choose to have Sharapova's figure. Daniela is a bit too skinny (but she's still hot, and always will be).

Okay, I forgot my point. Basically I just wanted to shamelessly say that I am in a good place right now with regard to my figure. And I will work to keep it this way. Thus, when I say I'm fat, I only really mean that I have a tummy. I know I'm not fat. I'd be stupid to think otherwise.

*

I had a beer last night and it caused me some breathing difficulties. I cannot remember if I concluded before that alcohol is bad for people with asthma; it has to be, I think. I mean, my asthma is gone, or at least presumably so, but I don't know why else I feel like I can't breathe properly, like my heart's racing faster than usual, why I'm all flushed and uncomfortable whenever I consume alcohol. And that is why I don't like to drink. And it was just ONE beer - and I didn't even finish it.

My lifestyle is the way it is for two reasons: One, I don't like the party animal kind of lifestyle; and two, even if I was attracted to it, I wouldn't really do it because my parents would probably die of anxiety, especially my dad. My father is disgustingly protective of me, and sometimes it gets to a point where I wonder where the fuck my consideration is in all this. I consider myself a responsible daughter - I always tell him where I'm going, who I'm going out with, roughly what time I'd be back. And yet, he doesn't seem to respect the fact that I've never gotten into serious trouble, ever, and the one time I actually got drunk was also the last time I consumed that much alcohol. And so when he tries to restrict my social life, especially in regards to the guys I date, or want to date, it really annoys the shit out of me. My ability to understand where he's coming from doesn't make it more palatable to me, and neither does it ease any of the irritation that I feel whenever he pulls his usual nonsense.

It's almost like there's an unspoken contract between me and him: he offers me a peaceful life at home, and in return I act within the invisible boundaries he's set out. My actions these past few years have demonstrated an unspoken acceptance, but it makes me wonder where my consideration is. To put it simply, everything in life is a quid pro quo, including the way I deal with my parents. Usually it's not; usually I'd do anything for them (as far as my selfishness realises that I should do things for them), but when I feel like I'm making choices for them, and not for myself, and I'm not getting anything in return - i.e. more freedom - it makes me wonder what fucking crap am I doing it for, and for fuck. I hardly ever club because it's too troublesome to deal with my dad and the fact that he insists on staying up to wait for me to go home the few times I've gone clubbing. Of course, the fact that I'm not a huge fan of it anyway plays a part too, but I'd like to have the option of clubbing when I feel like it without worrying what the paternal figure is going to say, without worrying that he's at home, waiting for me to go back, and not getting enough sleep in the process.

I honestly don't feel like I've missed out on anything just because I've never stayed out all night, never woken up in a ditch missing my underwear, never travelled with a boyfriend. Maybe these experiences would enrich my life, but as it stands I'm pretty happy with what I've seen and experienced. Maybe a part of that has to do with the fact that I'm getting old, and therefore I genuinely am not interested in staying out in clubs or pubs, drinking, wasting a hell lot of money on something that makes me feel uncomfortable anyway. But I'm still comfortable with the way things are.

That does not mean, however, that I wouldn't like to have the option of doing something that I wouldn't ordinarily do every once in a while. Sometimes I genuinely wonder if I refrain from doing certain things because I really can't be bothered, or because I've spent the past few years living by my parents' rules, so much so that I'm labouring under an illusion that I'm okay with it. It's been so long, and I haven't bothered to go against it, that it's subconsciously melded into a part of who I am - even if I don't necessarily subscribe to their notions, values, rules.

In fact, I pretty much don't. But over the years I've found it so tiring to argue with them (when I say them I mostly mean my dad) that I just couldn't be bothered anymore, and now it's become a silent agreement that things would just go on this way. Even that night when I was out with the partners at my firm my mom still persisted in calling me, which is actually all kinds of ridiculous if I actually stopped to think about it.

I guess this is what happens when you're the only daughter, and when your parents, especially your dad, are pretty conservative. My main bone of contention, though, is that they still don't seem to trust me enough to let me go and do whatever I want. I think they should realise that whenever I do something, at the back of my mind I'd be analysing everything - the consequences, what a particular action means, whether I'd be able to cope with it. Of course, sometimes that voice is snuffed out, which is why I'm always extremely hard on myself when I make stupid choices that fuck up royally in my face (because I knew the consequences and I undertook it anyway - the stupidest thing anyone can do). But I'm very aware of things, more so now than ever, and I find it quite insulting actually that my parents are constantly underestimating my intelligence and my sense of responsibility. I try to do right by them more than they realise - adhere to their stupid nonsense curfews, answer their phone calls when I'm out with a guy even when I don't want to answer, go home when my dad is pissed just so he wouldn't be even more pissed off nevermind that I don't actually want to...I am such a ridiculously good daughter, I disgust even myself.

But there are some things in which they simply cannot have a say. My mom realises this, but my dad doesn't. There comes a point where I just have to make choices for myself no matter what he's gonna think. I mean...sorry, too bad, it's my life, and I love you, but...just stop being ridiculous, please, thank you.

Okay, I was only going to talk about why I don't like alcohol but I've digressed into bitching about my dad again. Haha. My dad has two extreme sides: He's very stern and has a bad temper, and at the same time he's also super lame and retarded. Last night I came home at 1-plus in the morning, and when I was changed and got out of my room, I saw him standing outside my brother's room, slapping his own arm. I was all, "Um what are you doing?" He said, "Let's pretend to your mother that I slapped you."

I was like...WTF?!?! He was there, in the dark, slapping his own arm, just to play some nonsense joke on my mom. WHO WAS ALREADY HALF-ASLEEP. I couldn't stop laughing.

I wish he'd be reasonable about things though. But I know there's one thing he'd never - NEVER EVER - change his mind about. He comes from the school of thought that believes that a girl has been taken advantage of if she sleeps with a guy who isn't going to be her husband - nevermind that the girl gave her consent, and not stupidly at that. He sees this in absolute black and white, no mitigating factors, no defences, no counter-claims, just his conclusion and nothing else.

Oh well.

*

On another note, this is a stupid occupational hazard. I watched The Mist yesterday, and in one scene one character was arguing with another character. The character that was cussing out the other guy said something like, "I'll sue you! You'll go to prison!"

Immediately I said, "Um, if he sues the other guy, the other guy won't go to prison."

Because, you know, you only sue someone in a civil suit, not a criminal one, and you only go to prison if you're charged with a crime. You'll never go to prison just because someone sued you.

That character was also supposed to be a lawyer. HA HA HA I LAUGH MY ASS OFF.

Tong was all, "You're new to this law thing. Can you stop showing off?" or something along those lines. Hahaha. He's going to have to get used to this. My stupid occupational hazard.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010