A Boy (and his cookies)

Lord, may I never become one.

May I never become a boy? I am not a boy? Not a boy but A-Boy, someone whose main objective in life is to score A's whatever examination it might be.

Oh, I could. With me taking the IGCSE what-cher-may-call-it, full days fly by just studying, something quite alien to me.

Tsk. Tsk.

I'll continue much the way I am. The little imp that waltzes about upsetting toes and having a maniacally good time. A little like the joker maybe, just without the menace and violence. None of that for me.

On a less serious note, but more ominious, Ethan's going back to NS again. He's going back with a couple of tubs of chocolate-chip cookies to buy some more friends. For all his innocent lamb-ness he's either very afraid or milking as much affection and sympathy from us.

No Joy At 5am

I say this proudly. Proudly, but with a bittersweet, disappointed-ness. I watched the Federer-Nadal final live, the final that has had everyone who watched it gushing with shock and awe. The great Federer-Nadal final, or should it be Nadal-Federer?

Nadal won. That doesn't make me happy.

I was in the Federer camp and it was agonizing. The match spanned seven plus hours. Nearly five hours of play and about two hours of rain delay. The match was also truly superb.

But, it wasn't just great tennis, it was superb because of the emotional storm whipped up. In tennis, I am a very ardent supporter of anyone I decide to support. For five hours I was cheering, rooting, praying for Federer to win.

"Come on, Federer"

"Go, Roger"

So I stayed up till 5am and he lost in the end. Bleh.