A horrible freak accident killed a friend and left one of my best friends severely injured.
I see things like these happen all the time but not as this close to home.
Iori - You’ve made a ripple on so many peoples’ lives and I imagine you smiling down from Heaven. Thank you for constantly loving our good friend Vero.
Vero - I terribly miss you. Please get well soon.
Lebron has gone to the Finals 6 times and has won twice. He lost 4 times - in those 4 trying times I’ve rooted for him, unwaveringly, amidst mocking jeers and his “choking” the butt of all jokes. He was flashy and ostentatious but couldnt close out games as strongly as Kobe or MJ did. In those times talking about Lebron in the same breath as other allstars who actually had rings was a blasphemy to basketball. He was an egomaniac who called himself King and dominated games. As if to spite the haters, his desperate but rightful decision to give up on Clevelend and move to South Beach put to question his character and integrity. Jerseys were burned and his ratings plummetted. Needless to say, people poked fun at his “cowardly betrayal” to have a better chance at winning championship.
He earned rings, 2 rings, and victories didn’t feel quite meaningful with Bron around. On his last season with the Heat the Spurs ate them alive. Seemingly well thought out, he decided to go back to Clevelend at a chance of redemption. The massive display of self-aggrandizement at how “documented” this decision one sparked an entirely new breadth of hatred.
On his first year back at Cleveland, Bron was the prodigal son who led the team to the playoffs, to the NBA Finals. This hate subsided a little, people saw how hard he fought to bring Cleveland a ring. People acknowledged his greatness, he finished games with triple doubles, he threw clutch shots. He beat Dream Team records and dropped numbers that are unprecendented.
Disadvantaged with a depleted team, a rookie coach, very little help from team’s role players, missing 3 of the team’s starting 5 to injury, it became a little harder to justify hate on Bron. But Bron lost to the Warriors on Game 6. And all the great things he’s done this season momentarily vanished to thin air. What only mattered was that he and co. lost to the Warriors.
There’s a slew of reasons why th Cavs came up short, no doubt Warriors were the better team. But for the fans, this alleged blind allegiance to the King, losing to another Finals feels like a dagger to the heart.
This my friends is the circus that is rooting for an athlete so mystifying, so precarious at times, but also undeniably great. It must feel great to have rooted for the Dubs and won but I wouldnt want it any other way. I’m ALL IN for the Cleveland Cavaliers and for Bron.
Three years in this hip neighbourhood and counting. I’ve signed post-dated checks for until January of 2016 which means I will still be roaming the streets of Kapitolyo in the next year or so.
The permanent fixtures and sprouting establishments in my hood alike - like Jewels the one-stop shop for late night hunger pangs and alcohol needs, Pioneer Center for my groceries, Paddy’s, Silantro, and Charlie’s, the foodie strip on East Capitol and the peace and quiet of West Capitol (adieu, 87 West it’s been real), the general accessibility of everything I need anytime I need it and the semblance of home it gives me - all these are all too familiar and comfortable. As such with things all too familiar and comfortable, I don’t know how to leave it.
Kapitolyo is home to me, scratch practically because I feel more at home in my apartment that I do in LB. I love being around my family, waking up to home-cooked breakfast and having access to fresh towels and linens any time I need them but generally I feel alienated in LB. On paper and the forms I fill out when adulthood beckons, it’s still my permanent residence but Kapitolyo has my heart now.
Four addresses, three relationships, two gym memberships, endless food dates and countless debaucheries, some friends made, some ties severed, Kapitolyo has witnessed it all. This place knows all my secrets, all my fears, all my worries.
I don’t work in the area anymore. I have to sit through gruelling traffic to get to where I work on some occasions. It’s not that far but I can find a better living arrangement for myself somewhere nearer, but that’ll only suck out the life out of me and threaten the semblance of work life balance I am trying to achieve. What’s paying a little extra for cab fares, it’s really a small price to pay and besides life’s all about these little trade-offs right?
This year I made a decision to live out of intent, not out of habit, convenience, and practical reasons. I feel I am truly independent and admittedly (not to brag) with more wherewithal now so why scrimp? I want to start seeing things like I actually am building my own dojo and not some transient living arrangement when I’m not at work. I want to be near my boyfriend, have some friends around and literally a floor below my apartment, my own room, my own furniture and home appliances. I want a place where I can cook and bake, invite friends over, let them crash when they’re drunk and stay in on weekends.
This decision is a metaphor for a lot of things, it’s comfortable and impractical, the one pulling the other, inconvenient and romantic. Is it wise? I’m not so sure. But does it make me happy? Yes it does. Secure? Yes it does. Comfortable enough? I will get there. I feel like I made a good decision, and ultimately that’s what matters right?
Guy Gavriel Kay, River of Stars (via wunderkind-pr)
