A Tale Of Two City Clubs

After the excellent speech by Le Professor at the Arsenal AGM on Thursday, it was time to walk the talk and do the talking on the pitch. We travelled across the city to Stamford Bridge on Saturday, having never won an away game yet thus far this season. And it looked as if we might be punished for our profligacy when Gervinho and RvP missed from close range.

Lampoop stooped and scored the host’s first goal before RvP equalised from a superb pass from Rambo which Gervinho unselfishly rolled over. The first half ended with the favours on the host’s side as the racist Terry-ble headed in from a Lampoop corner.

Surprisingly I wasn’t feeling all that gutted yet. After all, we still had another half to play for.

Oh Chavs, you’ll be sorry you taunt me, just you wait and see

I actually missed Santos’ goal – he’s now scored as many goals in his seven games for The Arsenal as Clichy had in eight seasons. Then Theo put us ahead – falling down in the process but picking himself up again to stun everyone with his kick. The thriller didn’t end there when Mata equalised (damn you, Lukaku) with only ten minutes to go. At this point, you begin to wonder if Arsenal would ever stop throwing a lead and slipping up yet again.

But we didn’t. In fact, it was England’s Brave Heart John Terry-ble who slipped, kissing the dirt where his face belongs, and RvP seized the ball and ran to score our fourth. Like Arseblog put it: ‘Scoring four at Stamford Bridge is one thing, scoring the fourth to go 4-3 up another, but scoring it while one of the most despicable men to ever play football is on his knees chewing grass like some kind of not racist at all cow is something else entirely. These are the moments that make you believe that perhaps there is such a thing as karma.’

I’m not worthy

But that was not the end. Chelshit desperately put everything to force a draw and when four minutes were added, I kind of felt a bit nervous. In stoppage time, Rosický carried the ball forward on the counter, passing inside to Mikel Arteta who in turn fed the ball to Van Persie. Counter-attack! I like! RvP didn’t disappoint, he struck the ball across, sending it swerving viciously past a rooted Cech for his hat-trick. He’s on fire, he is.

So it was Chelshit 3, RvP 3, Arsenal 5. Or if you like AR53NAL (or CH3L5EA. Heh). And Terry-ble? He’s the fall guy, alright. Kudos to the team for not giving up, for continuing to fight even when the Chavs drew level, for giving us this precious win. It was a game of two halves for The Arsenal and Santos, a game of two captains (one who became a hero, and one who went from hero to zero) and Halloween arrived early at the Stamford Bridge this year. You can see how much it meant to the players too as they engaged in a public slightly erotic celebration before the final whistle was even blown and I love the post-match celebration and appreciation to the travelling Arsenal fans. For more pictures, go here, here and here.

Why Always Me?

You beauty!

Bromance

He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother

But like the Boss said, we have to remain humble. We face Marseille at home tomorrow. But just let me savour this for another day ;)

Oh and to those who celebrate, Happy Halloween!

Park Life

An FB friend recently asked this question: What is the one thing that frightens you about growing old?

One thing? I can’t think of one thing that frightens me about growing old. That’s because there are many things that frighten me about growing old. I fear of being sickly, forgetful, regretful, unrepentant and inconveniencing others to take care of myself. I fear if I can’t embrace the phases of my life fully. I’m afraid of being helpless and dependent, of not being mobile, of having ailments crippling my movements and curtailing my freedom. I’m afraid of being sick in a hospital bed somewhere all alone and imposing on others to take care of me. (I’m not terrified of being alone in my old age because I still have my family - and being alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely – but I hate the thought of being an invalid helpless oldie).

Besides growing old, I also fear dying (because we can die anytime, we don’t have to grow old to die) and I fear if I die too soon or too late. I fear of being at the brink of death and yet not being ready for it. I fear that I may actually long to linger on in this world and cling on stubbornly to the worldly material wealth and comfort. I fear that I’ll be too comfortable to give up the temporary pleasures that life offers (because life itself is temporary, hence life’s pleasures are also temporary). I don’t want to get old and then die without having really lived. I don’t want to let life pass me by and only realise it when I’m too old.

And when I die, I want my family members and closest friends to remember me fondly. I want them to miss me (is that selfish of me?) but not grieve me, because death is inevitable. I want them to remember the good times we had, the laughter we shared, the fun things we did. There was a short segment on the local news recently of friends of the late Dan Wheldon who put a tribute to him and I remember thinking that’s how I want to be remembered. And it caused me to rethink how I’ve been grieving over Mummy’s departure. Surely she wants me to move on and not be sad with her passing because if there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s death. Yes, she would want me to remember her in my prayers but she would not want me to stop living, to deprive myself of life, to continually grief for her. Peach, the wise girl that she is, said the same to me too. I can still grieve for Mummy, I will still miss her like crazy, but that doesn’t mean that I should stop having a life, she would not want me to. She would not want me to go on being sad and depressed. She would want me to move on, she would want me to remember the good times, the laughter, the trips we took together... and I will. I can still be happy and at the same time, still miss her and think of her. I don’t have to be sad whenever I think of her. (This will take some working because I still feel sad when I think of her because she’s no longer with me. Because she’s already on the other side while I’m still here. Because she’s no longer among the living but I’m still breathing).

So let’s start living our lives to the fullest if we haven’t already. Go take that trip, do that bungee jump, take that gap year to travel/do volunteer work... Let’s not put our lives on hold or park it away.

~~~~~~~~

Arsenal met Bolton for the Carling Cup on Tuesday night. It was not shown live (the ManUre one was though). From what I read it was an uncomfortable first half and we had to come back from behind with two goals in three minutes to win it 2-1. Park marked his second appearance for The Arsenal with a beautiful goal.

Maybe it’s time for some Park life if Chamakh’s woeful form continues.

Six And The City

Let’s talk about shopping first (no, not sex)

Before I talk about the event that is the subject title of this entry, let me tell you about my Saturday. After tackling the household chores, I went to the dentist (forgot that my last visit was in May so rightfully I should only go in November) for my bi-annual visit. Then I went to Ampang Point to repair my anklet (what else is new) before catching a bus to the city. Inflicted some damage on my plastic when I made some investment at Pavilion. Before I left, I went for a fish spa at the 5th floor: I’d tried fish spa once before at another centre and quite like it. Then I headed over to KLCC where I spent at the Isetan Foodmarket (there was a Japan Fair) and The Body Shop sale.

I watched the local footie on Saturday night as none of the EPL matches particularly enticed me. Selangor lost (would you believe it?) to Terengganu while Negeri Sembilan triumphed over T-Team to set up a Terengganu – Negeri Sembilan final.

On Sunday morning, Abah and I went to visit Mummy. It’s been a year yesterday since she left us and not a day go by where I don’t miss her or stop thinking about her. I miss her terribly whenever I travel, before, during and after. She loved to travel (I inherit my travelling genes from my parents) and had travelled quite extensively. Not bad for a girl from Batu Pahat who was looked after by an older sister and who only stayed home.

Six and the City

Arsenal hosted the Orc army yesterday. The Professor, who celebrated his birthday on Saturday, took a gamble and fielded Chamakh instead of our SuperVan. We led from a Gervinho goal, assisted by a Cesc-esque Rambo pass. But the Orc army won a dubious free-kick and equalised through ex-Spud Crouch. The crowd was getting restless when at last Chamakh was withdrawn and Robin came on. There’s just no substitute for quality as the Flying Dutchman became our saviour yet again. Whatever will we do without him? For now: no RvP, no va va voom although I agree with Wenger that we’re not a one-man team. And yet we must not over-rely on him – unless at this age, he’s finally become invincible.

Joyeux anniversaire, Boss

No, Gervinho doesn’t like them either
With Rambo, who provided the aesthetic Cesc-esque assist

Flying Dutchman!

The other stories of the night are Man Shitty running riot at Old Trafford – sparking a worldwide twitter trend by Arsenal youngster Conor Henderson - and Chelshit losing to QPR.

Arsenal win, ManUre and Chelshit defeats, public holiday in mid-week... it’s going to be a lovely week ahead. We face Bolton in the Carling Cup tomorrow and then Chelshit on Saturday.

Ram Raid

Arsenal travelled to Marseille for the Champions League Group F clash. I was up for the second half. Found the match to be on the dull side and I was silently telling the team, ‘Come on Arsenal. A one-nil win will do.’ And when we were in the 91st minute, I said, ‘Come on Arsenal. One last attack.’ And that was what it was, literally the last kick of the match, worked by the three substitutes – Djourou, Gervinho and Ramsey. And that, ladies and gentlemen, that one minute of quality is what made the difference. The classy goal, made in the last 90 seconds of the match, more than made up for the earlier 90 minutes.

We face the Orc army next.

Sandakan

I flew to Borneo - for the fifth this year - last Friday, this time to Sandakan. The ticket was purchased in end-March and I was initially worried if the route had been cancelled but thankfully it remained. It was an early morning flight, so early that we left home at a quarter to 5 am - Abah drove me to KL Sentral and I took the 0520 train to the airport. The ETD was 0700 but as everyone had boarded by 0650, we were already ready to taxi by 0655.

I dozed on and off (woken up twice by the air stewardess who asked me to place my handbag at my feet during take-off and again when she wanted to clear my meal - which I had already packed off in the paper bag all ready for her to clear, duh!). We landed at 0935, 10 minutes earlier than scheduled. I had earlier mulled between visiting Sepilok on Friday or making my way there on Saturday. I don’t like crowds and when I found that it was nearer to get to Sepilok from the airport than from town, that helped make up my mind. So I bought a taxi coupon to take me to Sepilok (RM35) and reached the Rainforest Discovery Centre (RDC) about 20 minutes later.

There was a Borneo Bird Festival at the RDC during the weekend so the entrance fee was waived. I left my bag at the counter and set off to explore the area. First, I headed to the nearby Plant Discovery Garden. Then I made my way to the Hornbill Tower and climbed up. I spent about 20 minutes there but couldn’t locate any hornbill at all (let alone any bird, although I did hear chirping every now and then)... ;( Next, I made my way to the canopy walkway; I joined the walkway at Bristlehead Tower and walked to Trogon Tower before heading back to Keruing Cafe where the walkway starts.

After performing prayers, I left. The friendly girl at the counter had told me it would take 20 minutes’ walk to get to the Sepilok Orang Utan Rehabilitation Centre and it took me exactly that. And mind you, I was lugging my trolley bag behind me in the hot sun too! Had it not been for my bag and heat, it probably would have taken me less time.

The Centre was closed when I arrived (it reopens at 2 pm) so I headed for the cafeteria to have lunch. If you ever go there, please do not order kuay teow soup which was what I did. My meal was so bland, tasteless, pathetic and over-priced. I only finished it because I didn’t want to let my tummy go empty.

At 2, I went to buy my entrance ticket (RM5, add RM10 for your camera. Foreigners play more) then went to store my bag in the locker at the storage area (free). You are supposed to leave everything there by the way except for your camera and locker key (in case the orang utan wants to grab your handbag from you). There was a video show also so I took refuge from the heat and joined the other visitors in the air-conditioned room. The video lasted about 25 minutes.

Then I walked to the feeding area. We saw a mother and her baby on a platform - she studiously ignored us. There was another orang utan who was enjoying the attention of the Caucasian visitors a few metres away. You can tell he was used to this as he was not at all disturbed by our presence. As time approached 3 pm, other orang utans started swinging by one by one.

At 3, one of the Centre’s employee came up (I didn’t notice which way he came from; suddenly he was already on the platform emptying his pail of fruits before leaving as quickly as he had come).

The mother who was earlier on the platform took some fruits and balanced herself and baby on a rope. There was another mother and baby on the platform now but the mother was clearly afraid of the other (male?) orang utan and had to keep sneaking behind this other primate for her share of fruits. There was another younger orang utan who was happily swinging on another rope, munching on his meal.

I spent about 20 minutes there before leaving. By then, the orang utans had already left and the feeding area was taken over by their cousins (macaques?).

I didn’t hear any voices in my head (I did hear the bird songs at the RDC though I didn’t see them) or have any primate climb on me

I took a taxi to town (RM40) and we reached my hotel about 45 minutes later. (Cabbie asked why I didn't travel with friends; I told him I prefer travelling alone because of the convenience, freedom and flexibility it gives me). We agreed for him to pick me up and send me to the airport on Sunday. The hotel has this well-known rooftop so after dropping my bag, I went up to seventh floor and up the stairs to explore the rooftop for a while.

In the evening, I went out to explore the area before having dinner at a restaurant. My dinner totally compensated for my poor lunch.

On Saturday, I woke up early for prayers. Breakfast was had at Ba Lin Rooftop before I set off to explore the town. I followed the Sandakan Heritage Trail starting from the Jamik Mosque (it’s on a little hill with stairs leading to it; I didn’t climb up though) then on to the Tourist Information Centre (it only opens on weekdays though) and Sandakan Heritage Museum. I went in and up the stairs and spent about 15 minutes there. Then I left and walked up the Stairs with Hundred Steps - although I doubt there were a hundred steps (actually the people at the museum didn't advise me to take the stairs as it may be risky especially for single females like myself) - but I decided to brave it especially when I saw a couple in front of me. I also recited some verses. Alas, the couple stopped after climbing only a few steps so I continued on alone. Nothing untoward happened, no one jumped at me or attacked me, Alhamdulillah.

I decided to turn right and walked along Jalan Istana all the way to the World War II Chinese Memorial and Japanese Cemetery. While I did find the Memorial, I only saw large Chinese graves around me (unless the Japanese were buried in Chinese graves). As it was getting hotter by the minute, I decided to turn back.

I walked to Agnes Keith’s House (now a museum). Local pay RM2 to enter (locals pay distinctly lower rates compared to foreigners at RDC, Orang Utan Rehabilitation Centre and museums here). It was charmingly maintained, having been rebuilt upon the ruined foundations of the original house which was destroyed during the WW II. In the master bedroom, there was a booklet which debates whether the house is haunted and to be honest with you, as I read it, I could feel goose bumps... and I thought I heard some noises too behind me. I spent about half an hour there and when I left, there were about two dozens of visitors there. What did I tell you about Saturday crowds? I wonder how crowded RDC and the Orang Utan sanctuary were today.

There is a viewing platform called the Rotary Observation Pavilion nearby and from here, you can see the sea. I walked down Jalan Istana and at the roundabout with the Clock Tower, I took 12 o’clock to Jalan Seraya. There were the remains of an old staircase at the end of this road (disappointingly too little of the remains I thought). I decided against finding the ancient graveyard and set off in the opposite direction downhill, diverting from the main road just before reaching the overhead bridge and making my way up some crumbling steps before arriving at St Michael's and All Angels Church. That ended my heritage trail and I walked to the restaurant where I had my dinner the night before for my lunch.

I returned to the hotel and rested. I went out again at a quarter to 3 and went for a massage. There were some clouds overhead so it was not as hot as it was earlier or should be (in fact, it rained during the night which I slept through blissfully. Only realised it when I saw the wet roads this morning).

Back to the hotel after 5 pm and ventured out for dinner at almost 8. The restaurant was showing the match of the week: Liv v ManUre. I returned before half-time and watched the rest of the match in my room.

On Sunday, I woke up at almost 7 and went up to the rooftop for breakfast at 0740. Checked out at 0828 and the cabbie was already waiting for me. Reached the airport before 9 and dropped off my bag. Flight took off on time and we landed at KLIA at 1250.

My thoughts on Sandakan? I enjoyed it better than Sibu. One thing I notice is the town has quite a few roundabouts and overhead bridges. It was just a tad too hot though but this is only to be expected as it’s by the sea. If you’re heading there or other towns in Sabah, do check out the Sabah Tourism Board official website. It’s pretty informational and helpful.

So adieu for now, Borneo. I hope to return soon, though I doubt I can make as many visits in a year as I had done this year!

You reckon?

~~~~~~~~

Arsenal hosted Sunderland on Sunday. Captain Van-tastic scored the fastest goal in the league this season, less than half a minute after kick-off! I'd only just switched on the TV but managed to catch the repeat. I thought Rosicky had a decent game bossing the midfield. All the newbies - Jenkinson, Gervinho, Arteta, PerMer and Benayoun in the second half - played. No Park sighted though. I do wonder why...

Our familiar inconsistency came to haunt us and we found ourselves in a similar position of making things difficult for ourselves as only we are capable of doing when Larsson scored a scorcher of a free kick. Thankfully RvP scored one of his own minutes before full time to earn ourselves a precious three points. A win, three points, I'm not complaining...

Celebrating with Herr PerMer

It’s Marseille in mid-week (tomorrow), y’all.

Bully

Today, I’m going to talk about bullying. I’m sure we have all come across bullies at some stage in our lives – be it at kindergarten, primary school, secondary school, college, university, work, social settings such as gym, places of worship, and even among our family members or relatives. A bully is an abusive person who bullies others to assert authority, who intimidates others for his own interest, or who seeks to hurt others. A bully to me is either a coward, an insecure person with low self-esteem, an attention seeker or all of these. He becomes a bully either through his environment e.g. being raised by either bullying parent(s) or among bullying siblings/friends. They adopt this abuse and in turn bully others (maybe as retaliation?).

It can happen at home...

...or at school, workplace, social gathering place etc

Bullying may involve verbal harassment or physical assault and may be directed towards a particular group of people based on prejudice towards race, religion, culture, sexuality (gender-orientation or sexual preference) or ability. There’s also indirect bullying where the bullied victim is threatened into social isolation or being ostracised and it may be as damaging if not more than direct bullying. So these types of abuse – physical, mental/psychological, verbal, non-verbal (demonstrated via action such as silent treatment) and sexual – are all forms of bullying.

Who do bullies bully? Like I mentioned above, it’s to assert authority, to intimidate others or just plain cruel desire to hurt another. The bully is actually a coward who’s insecure enough that he has to resort to this despicable act to assert himself. So those abusive parents that we read about are just plain bullies, although they are actually quite pathetic to resort to bullying their own child(ren).

I’m no expert (nor trained) to provide advice on how to address this menace but there is an abundant of information available online on how to deal with it such as this. We also play a role: children/students can be advised not to bully their siblings or peers or even animals. We can also deal with the bullies, probably provide them with the counselling, advice and guidance they need, and above all, it must be impressed on them that bullying is not acceptable. Help them build their self-esteem for one and give them attention they crave for.

Because it’s not just the bullied who need help but also the bullies.

My 091011 Post

I live for the weekends (I’m sure I’m not the only one!) and even more so now. You see, a colleague who’s also a friend has just left to perform Hajj and in her absence, her portfolio is divided between myself and another colleague. So my portfolio for the next seven weeks is increased by 50%. Actually, some work has already been passed to me since the end of the past week.

I’m always determined to make the most of my weekends so much so that while most people would prefer to have a lie-in, I actually don’t mind getting up early to maximise the waking hours of my weekend. Yes, I know I already wake up early on weekdays but it feels a shame to wake up late on a Saturday or Sunday. If I wake up after 10 or 11 even noon as some people do, well, that’s half of the day gone already or 1/4 of my weekend. It’s just like when I’m away on holidays: I get up early to make the most of my time away (of course I also have my siesta on weekends and holidays) to get the most out of my break.

Last Saturday, I went on a day-trip to Singapore. There was a JetStar offer - zero fare and the turn trip cost me only RM120. I ended up around Orchard Road only and yet I almost ran out of time. While Singapore, unlike KL, doesn’t have prayer rooms in hotels or shopping complexes, there’s Masjid Al-Falah, just across the side street from Paragon where I went to perform prayers. My initial plan when I bought the ticket was to browse look for some winter gear but I may return there again soon so apart from a quick visit to The North Face store, the rest of the trip was spent traipsing up and down Orchard Road as far as Paragon from Orchard station. I did end up spending on something - I thought long and hard about it and debated many times with myself before buying it - but no regrets. I will suffer a bit of a financial impact but it’s a very good investment in the long run. Besides, the price of this product will rise as the brand keeps revising its prices every couple of years or so.

Actually, as I’ve found over the few trips to Singers, branded and luxury goods cost a lot less in Kuala Lumpur than in Singapore, Jakarta, Bangkok and Manila - this is based on my voluntary research and hours of browsing in stores like Marks & Spencer, Furla, Gucci, Prada and Chanel, and on products (e.g. SK II). I cannot understand why some people say things cost less in Singers when they definitely don’t and especially not without the current exchange rate.

That said, there are places where you can find good bargains. These places are frequented by the quite sizable foreign workers over there, namely Far East Plaza and Lucky Plaza. In the Far East Plaza for example, you can find a shop that sells clothes, toiletries and food at very competitive prices (it’s near some ATM machines), shops that sell souvenir products also at competitive prices (that would save you a trip to Mustafa, a wholesale store akin to our Mydin, at Little India), fragrance shops (one of which stocks fragrance at very competitive prices) and a store that sells branded goods (Gucci, Prada, Miu Miu, Fendi etc) at 40% off the store prices - I believe they source the goods direct from Europe.

Similarly, Lucky Plaza houses stores akin to those you can find in Sungai Wang Plaza here. There are also a lot of money changers, remittance companies and eateries that cater to the foreign workers (e.g. Filipino food, Indonesian food). And I found, or rather stumbled upon, BagZaar, a store that sells almost new, gently used branded goods (Prada, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Chanel and even Hermès). There’s another store at Level 3 which operates similarly; however, I found the display messier than that of BagZaar.

I returned home late that night - flight out was at 10 pm and my, it was such a bumpy ride. There was no way you could doze off at all with all that turbulence. We landed at 10:50 pm but the earlier train I could catch was the 11:20 pm express train so I reached home close to midnight. Well, I’m no Cinderella (though yes, besides the long hours at work, I also have to juggle household chores in what little spare time I have left).

On Sunday, I took a little walk to a massage place and had a hot stone massage. It was all good and relaxing; however it didn’t manage to help me get rid of wind.

(Sunday evening was spoilt by the stupid Gunners who lost to the bloody Spuds. Damn you, Arsenal. I was in a bad mood on Monday and Tuesday because of this. Thanks to Audrey and Zack who helped me see perspective and of course, the ever brilliant Arseblog).

Besides tackling the never-ending household chores (lest you think I do nothing but twiddle my thumb and not lift a finger at home. In fact, I cleaned two houses this weekend: micasa and my parents’. So, yes, cry me a river. But I also believe in delayed gratification), I went for a movie and did some shopping. I headed to Isetan Lot 10 (didn't buy anything substantial) during lunch and Isetan KLCC after work (didn’t spend a sen!) but I ended up buying a movie ticket for Saturday morning so at least it wasn't a wasted trip to KLCC on Friday evening. I was luckier on Saturday and managed to buy some things after the movie (The Three Musketeers). It has indeed been a long time since my last movie outing. My last movie was Captain America, back in July!

Akak and family came in the evening so I spent the rest of the weekend with la familia. And while I didn't get to read as much as I would like to, I spent some quality time with my nephew and niece, tutoring and supervising them in their school revision.

I can’t wait for the next weekend. Bring it on!!! (But yes, there’s the small matter of having to get through the week first. Sigh.)

Love Doesn’t Have To Hurt

I went back to micasa on Friday evening and even as I alighted, I could hear the racket from my next-door neighbour (the same one who woke me up at 3 am with Lady Gaga songs played on full volume). There was a lot of shouting punctuated by the sound of things crashing/breaking. My heart sank. So much for a quiet weekend.

I could hear the daughter’s voice more clearly as I swept the porch and watered the lawn. She was clearly angry and swore at her dad. Almost every sentence she shouted had the word ‘Fuck’ and she screamed that he (the dad) broke her nose. Oh my. Now, the father is really someone unpleasant. He has a quick temper and can be heard berating loudly at all hours of the day. I once caught him scolding the wife when I was outside and I felt sorry for the wife: I’m sure she was embarrassed at being criticised loudly in front of me. He is, in short, a verbally and mentally abusive person and really I’m only surprised he hasn’t injured/broken anyone’s limb before this.

I contemplated calling the police but hesitated as I’d done that once before with a previous neighbour and when the police came, I had to go out (at 4 am!) to meet them. I was about to recite Yassin when I heard a car outside and immediately thought, that must be the police. And true enough, there was an unmarked police car outside when I peeped out my bedroom window. (I almost wished I had been the one who called the police after all). I could hear the dad repeatedly telling the police not to interfere because they were ‘outsiders’ but the daughter insisted that they stick around while she tell her story. This went on for some time and they proceeded to have another shouting match in front of the police.

When I peeped out again later, I saw about seven motorbikes with even more policemen. Wow, this is more serious than I thought. The police left after 9 and it was finally peaceful and quiet – for once. (I’m happy to say the situation stayed this way for the rest of the weekend).

I’m not nosy. I’m just concerned ;)

It always makes me wonder why people stay in abusive relationships (by abusive, I mean any form of abuse – mental, verbal, physical, sexual). Why does one stay with an abusive partner? Why put up with it? Is it because of dependence on the abuser, reluctance to seek an escape for whatever reason, belief that the abuser will change, or self-sacrifice for the sake of the children (if any involved)? In this instance, the daughter could just move out instead of staying under the same roof with the father. Oh sure, there’ll be costs involved but surely that’s a small price to pay for your sanity and peace of mind? Of not having to hear him scream abuse, yell, torture (physically or mentally), hurt, belittle or antagonise you? I know there are instances where people stay in an abusive relationship and are prepared to defend themselves for doing so, either by defending the abuser’s actions, lying about the abuse (despite the signs being visible for the world to see) or refusing to socialise altogether (so no one can question them).

And what do we do? What role do we play? Do we stand by and watch from afar all the while assuring ourselves nothing bad is happening or do we take action? In this instance, the father arrogantly dismissed the police, telling them it was not their business. I can’t live with myself if I know someone is being abused and I don’t do anything about it but how do I give help if the abused refuses help or denies the abuse? How do I act without appearing like I’m being a busybody?

I thank God that I have never been abused by my parents. Some may even say I’m spoiled for my parents have never even beaten me (nor my other siblings). Love doesn’t have to hurt. It isn’t love for someone to dominate another person, to instil fear in that person, to make that person so dependent on you that s/he can’t walk away from the abuse you inflict on her/him. Love shouldn’t hurt at all. I know in some societies and circles, particularly the masculine society, it’s acceptable (even accepted) for men to abuse or mistreat their wives/children. But it doesn’t mean it’s OK.

~~~~~~~~

Arsenal lost to the hated scums last night. We played badly with misplaced, woeful, careless passes in the midfield. Damnation. Come on Arsenal, the train has left the station a long time since, the season has long since kicked off but we are still nowhere close to getting our act together. Stand by our men, Audrey says and while I agree, I don’t know how much longer we can stand by and watch our beloved Arsenal like this. And to make things worse, Sagna, the best right back in the Premier League has fractured his fibula and will be out for approximately three months. Can things go any worse?

Love doesn’t have to hurt. Heck, love shouldn’t hurt. And yet, we are all hurting because of our love for The Arsenal (which ironically is celebrating its 125th anniversary later this year). I don’t know how much pain I can bear, how much suffering I have to endure, how much more I can tolerate (thanks to all my twitter mates who try to cheer me up by sharing their perspective).

This love for Arsenal currently hurts. Dang it!