I'll warn you beforehand, this post is forced. Tonight the Arsenal faces Fenerbahce in a Champions league group match and ordinarily, this wouldn't be a tremendously significant game, however circumstances have made it a rather extra ordinary one.
Ever since the 9th grade when I started supporting the Gunners there's been a direct corelation to events in my own life. 9th grade when I really began my life, socially anyway, in Dubai, was the invincible season and it was a feeling I had right through the year. Subsequently it's a bit hazy, but let's just say Arsenal never did too well during my boards...
Last year, arguably the greatest year of my life for several reasons, coincided with what was considered a revival of invincible Arsenal. Most tellingly, the day we beat Chelsea was the day Kyra said yes. However just as that season started to run out of steam, it seems so did I and by the end I was as crestfallen as Wenger was after that cunt Kuyt tripped himself and won Liverpool that penalty.
I've written a bunch of posts over the last year about how I'm coming back, I've made a lot of promises about the return of invincible hobo and the truth is I'm so tired I don't have the energy to push myself the way I did at the start of first year. My mind is this horrible mess and I don't get brilliant ideas in the shower anymore. I've not burnt out because I've really not merited a burn out, I've just gotten so caught up in how to be and what to be and doubting and trying to be and all that psycho analytical bull crap that I've lost will power.
I saw this episode of House where this girl gets this condition called Abulia. It's the loss of will. So you can't decide and the tension makes you faint. I'm nowhere near that shit and thank god, but I'm so close to it I want to scream, but then again, I'm not really sure I want to scream.
It's taken alot to get me to write lately and other than spewing out acceptable articles for a site bizarre enough to pay me, I've really hit a brick wall on the expression front.
I'm teaching myself how to play the guitar and enjoying the fact that I have a vague control over the sounds of an object, but the truth is I feel winded. I can't get myself to draw and write, two things I love to do. I can't seem to get myself to do much beyond playing an inane video game. I can't even zone out in front of the television.
It's true, this is a pathless rant but after everything I've tried only written catharsis is left really.
My immune system gave away finally and I can't help but feel like it's a fucking metaphor for my grit. If my grit's as fucked as my liver after Malaria then I'm headed for trouble. On the other hand, all the greatest tasks and things ever done have originated in the individual constantly saying 'fuck it' and going straight forward, but that's not something I really have in me right now and it's a feeling I have never till this date had. It's not scary or saddening it's just repressively dull and it makes me want to jump out of my skin just so I can feel fresh again.
I've been trying to get past this and another something I won't get into and I haven't and the dissatisfaction, the feeling of an incomplete task despite herculean effort, has made me miss, more than anything else, that feeling you get when you've left 8th grade or 7th grade or whatever grade, and you have a new school bag, new books, new clothes and sometimes a new hairstyle, and you walk in with this almost clean slate and there's nothing you can't fucking do and there's no amount of Hindi lectures you can't stay awake through.
That's a fucking beautiful feeling. And I fucking miss it. I have everything I need for it to happen. A new laptop, new clothes, a new phone, a new camera, a guitar soon, it's just my fucking outlook is the same boring one of Arsenal with their heads hanging down and that beautiful man Mathieu Flamini slumping because we couldn't put one past Wigan.
So tonight, and honestly, on Saturday when we face the Tampons of Manchester ("Once they get in, they're always going to come out red...") I'm looking forward to and I'm going to make a genuine effort to pump my fists and cheer on the mighty Gunners with every ounce of spirit I have. If they can get through this, then I can't help but feel like I can too.
Come on you Reds!