well.

almost didn't miss.

Still, this effort is proving fun and useful.

daily writing: alone in the house

Today's the day Lyn leaves, and that means I get the whole house to myself. Even though it sounds like a good thing I assure you it's not.

An empty house, devoid of people, sounds, and the usual drama and complaining. It may be a little bit more peaceful, but nothing beats the company of friends.

To remind me that I need to do certain things to make sure the house is in working order, Lyn put up 3 pink post-its that say, "Turn off heater and lights", "Lock Door" and "Feed Fish", the latter two coming with their respective hand drawn symbols.

This should tell you how forgetful I am.

Well, at least I don't think I've missed a day in my "daily writings" project yet. Oh you didn't know I was conducting a project? Of course you didn't. How could you? It's not like you exist, dear constant reader.

There's been one, I think for every day in December so far. I think. It's been a really useful exercise. I get to practice my writing and add to my archives at the same time. Of course, being a writer I really should be writing more than this, but as someone once said to a cowboy, "take it slow."

Anyway, thus concludes my column on my daily column. I won't be able to cheat tomorrow by writing about my writing anymore. Any more times than one would be cheating. Right?

Chelsea 2 Cluj 1

I arrived an hour early. The tube, as usual, was packed. It wasn't until I got off the train that I realized almost everyone on that train was heading for Stamford Bridge. 6pm and dark, everyone seemed to be wondering around aimlessly. Already Chelsea was accumulating quite a crowd. Some were snacking on hotdogs, others smoking, with the color blue uniting everyone under one banner. Even the refreshment stands were blue for crying out loud.

I spent the extra time touring the place. Since it was my first time at a club stadium, I gazed at everything with wonder, constantly starstruck everywhere I go. Huge portraits of stars, of today and yesteryear adorned the wall of the stadium. Names I've read about in books and referenced on shows. I was told all Chelsea fans cared about were results, I was painted a picture of heartless, number-crunching accountants who cheered when the applause sign went on. From this angle, that statement hardly holds water.

I meandered around for a good thirty minutes, before deciding that I can't be at a football game and not be seen buying a burger or a hot dog. It wouldn't feel right, both to me and others around me. So I got a burger and a hot dog. And a drink. Purely for the sake of that. My wallet wasn't thinking that night you see.

Going in, being ushered to my seat and I waited. Again I felt I had to be early. Golly I wouldn't want to miss a minute of it. I thought. I waited another half hour. Songs started playing, and before long the announcer came on. "Chelsea needs to WIN!" he said. Announcing first the eleven challengers taking on the home team today, every name was met with boos and jeers from the crowd, despite the announcer's speech about racism merely minutes before.

Oh what the hell. This isn't the place for political correctness I thought. Then it was time for the Home team's lineup to be announced. Before this I never thought much about the "home" and "away" factor, but man, I'm never making that mistake again. When Joe Cole, Drogba and Cech's name came up, the crowd went wild. Like a slap to the face, tonight was my rude awakening. What a difference it made!

The match was as exciting as a match like this can get, which is to say, very. It was packed to the brim, and people were chanting cheers and songs long before it was kick-off. I realized early on this felt a lot like going to church. A lot of people I don't know, with a lot of songs I don't know. Unlike church, there were no hymn books to follow to, but I handled myself quite finely, I might add. The first half was rather uneventful, we were not playing particularly well, handing them chances and thanking God they never capitalized. But then everything changed around the 40 minute mark. The opening goal was scored by one Kalou. And seeing it coming was met with an enormous satisfaction for my part.

Half-time. Bathroom breaks, hot dogs, pies, sodas, but none for me. I've had my fill. The place was WAY too crowded to do anything else but watch the highlights on tv screens anyway.

The 2nd half started with an equalizing goal from Cluj. Ten minutes in, it wasn't pretty. It was at this time I realized there the seats above us, the ones you need stairs and 20 meters to get to were filled with visitors from Romania. As soon as the ball hit the net, a taunting battle ensued between the two sides. That of course, came to an end when Drogba was switched in for Kalou, 1st half goal scorer. The crowd gave it up for Chelsea's star player, and it didn't take him long to perform either. Six minutes into the game, Chelsea supporters cheered for his goal, nudging Chelsea ahead with two goals to one. Then it was a few yellow cards, before everyone headed home, Chelsea fans especially pleased.

And we won, 2, 1. It was great. And I went home, queuing up along with hundreds of others for the tube, and finishing "Hey Whipple" on the way back. Feeling satisfied, and knowing I'll have something to brag about in front of Daniel the next time I see him.

Chelsea part 1

We won.

It still feels a bit weird to say that but yes, we won, 2-1, thanks to Kalou and Drogba. Will write more tomorrow.

Daily writing: Chelsea

Today's the day of my first football match. In England anyway. A champion's league match, CHELSEA v CFR says the ticket. Kick off at 19:25. Stamford Bridge Stadium, WEST STAND LOWER, GATE: 2 ROW:21 SEAT 0034 25 pounds. PERSISTENT STANDING IS NOT ALLOWED.

Oh, and no smoking.

I'll be out by 4, walk around central London, window shopping, a cuppa coffee, scribbling ideas, before I join the not very big crowd. I hope.

The subject supporting football teams has always fascinated me. I can understand well enough to support you local team, pride and all that. But how does an outsider, who has no affiliation with clubs or local teams chooses who to support?

Personally, I've supported Chelsea since my college days. Before that I wasn't into football much.

A close friend of mine was an ardent fan of Chelsea. This is before they suddenly had millions of pounds in their pockets courtesy of Abromavich. Before Mourinho and before their first title win in 4 decades. I never asked him how he came to support the blues but I suspected it's because of one Frank Lampard.

He would go on for ages how Lampard never missed a match, was never switched out and how amazing he was. Eventually I got to be pretty good friends with this chap and slowly it grew on me. Then one day I decided, just like that, out of the blue, I'm for Chelsea. And that's what I've been saying for 3 or 4 years now.

And that's my bland, boring uninteresting anecdote to how I became a Chelsea guy.

I've not done research, but I'm willing to bet that many Manchester United fans, Arsenal fans and Liverpool fans outside the UK will have a similar story. A friend, a family member, or a figure in authority will have played a very important part in which team a football fan comes to support. Influence of peers, and individuals around oneself.

AH football. So wonderful and yet so divisive. Bringing people together and pushing then further apart at the same time.

Daily writing: some dude.

So some dude called Gordon Comstock (I am sure there's a joke in that name there somewhere, just not sure what) got noticed by Scamp, and subsequently suffered a mini-digg effect. It wasn't enough to crash his site, but noticeable enough that he put up a post addressing new readers.

I can't help but wonder if it's a coincidence that scamp picked up on him after he embedded Scamp's ad on his blog.



Probably just a coincidence.

In other news my AD is driving me nuts. I'm starting to think he's a fucking retard.

Thank god the nabs book club is happening soon.

daily writing: Suck it up.

It seems all my friends are in sorrow somewhat. I feel like I'm living Grey's anatomy. All this drama and soap opera. Breaking up and being sad. At least soap opera on TV will have characters find love or happiness sometimes.

Real life is so often a bitch. They whine and they talk about how it used to be. Memories they probably won't be able to relive. Sulking in their own tears and self pity. It's hard to blame them, but it's still annoying. Sure it makes for riveting stories and soap opera, but as events happening around your person they're hardly interesting, because everyone has the same story, the same tears.

Sad people often fail to realize they're by no means unique in their disposition. When tears roll down and hearts are broken the outside world shuts itself off. Emotions take over and they encase themselves in a bubble. Life becomes all about one person. The one you want back so much.

I want to take a gun, scream "shut up!" and empty rounds into the ceiling, bringing about a cold silence before I pull out a cricket bat and bludgeon them all to death. Partly because when I'm faced with acquaintances like that, my mind draws blanks. I feel powerless to help them, mostly because I just don't know how. Bludgeoning may not solve things for anyone, but at least it's fun to pretend that it does. But mostly I listen and nod, pretending to be interested while picturing their bloodied skulls at the end of my bat, crimson red dripping down forming a thick, murky pool.

But I still like them and feel sorry for them. Am I sane or what?

daily writing: Waiting on a job

My art director of 2 days complained to me that it takes too long to get a job in the London ad agency. It's a nightmare, and everyone knows it. There's not much we can do about it though. It's said it takes an average of 2 years to get a job in the industry, by which time my visa would have run out.

It's an interesting dilemma, but I hope to at least gain some sort of experience by doing placements and crits before I get booted back to Malaysia. Hell, I'm desperate enough as it is.

At least my book arrived today.

The nice fellas at MCBD sent me off with an assignment. Read "Hey Whipple Squeeze this." I read the first 2 pages and already I'm cursing myself for not discovering it earlier. Homer, you're bumped off the top of my reading list for now.

7 pounds well spent.

Looking at some of my friends on facebook, it's reassuring to see I'm not the only one who has gained some weight.

Watched "aku suka jolok" video for the first time in 2 years. Ah, the long forgotten days of my misspent teenage years. Lyn and co vowed to kill me if I ever said it to their face again, so I'm saying it here. Where no fucking body is around.

haha.

2 years on and still nobody comes here regularly. Oh how I love the benefits of being not famous.

And now, I shall provide sound effects to a silent film.

daily writing: a spot of Trott

Anyone who's anyone at all in advertising should be reading the blog of Dave Trott, thinker, advertiser and probable con-artist. Somehow or other everything that appears on his blog is either insightful or mind-blowing. Even when it isn't one of the two it's always incredibly well written and interesting. With a huge load of controversy surrounding a lot of the statement he makes.

I respect Dave Trott's as an advertiser. I don't see how anyone can't, but as a person I'm not so sure.

His latest post is titled "when is it okay to cheat?"

An observant person would notice that the title takes the form of a question. So does he provide an answer? Well, yes.

From my understanding it boils down to 'as long as you don't get caught'.

Now I'm conflicted. Sure the guy has done great work, and is revered in many circles, but it's hard to root for someone who thinks wrongdoing is fine as long as you can get away with it.

Sure "art is what you can get away with", but when art meant anything else other than what it means to the individual?

Maybe he's just defining stealing differently, as a "homage" is very different from "thieving", at least in my book.

"Hypocrisy of outraged morality"? Perhaps. Dave, perhaps.

Dave Trott, as he reveals more and more of himself to us, is starting to bear a startling resemblance to Cassidy, the Irish vampire. Instantly likable but incredibly hard to root for as time goes on.

Do I think he's right? I'm not sure. I don't think stealing is right. I think using elements from someone else's work to complement your own isn't wrong, just bad if someone finds out. "Gorrilla" was 'inspired' by a Canadian ad on youtube.

I do agree that getting caught is stupid, and if someone managed to pull a fast one under my nose I'll probably be impressed before I get angry.

But as Alan Fletcher pointed out: "1+1=3", meaning that something new will often arise with the sum of two old things.

I'm 22, unemployed, and probably stupid. So I'll settle on "It's okay to steal as long what you created was more than the sum of it's stolen parts".

daily writing: rants

The only other thing I need to feel Like Spider Jerusalem right now is a bald head and looks that kill, not because I'm pretty.

They say boredom kills. Whoever they are, I will do nothing to refute that statement. One year ago I thought all I wanted to do was to write great ads, win countless ad awards and work long, exhausting underpaid hours in the ad industry.

I still do, to some extent, but like everything else I've wanted to achieve, life gets in the way.Not my life, but the life everyone else is living. What do you do when nothing goes according to plan? When everything you do turns out out be a dud and nothing seems to make any sense?

Answer? Blog. Write and write and write. Vent your heart out and pour every single drop of blood, sweat and tears into this measly little text box that publishes this block of text into the great, insane world known as the internet. Every turn leads to a dead end, and a man can only take so many dead ends before breaks down and starts blogging about it. Some people wash it down with whiskey, some with beer, others with cigarettes, I do all three, all the while making sure I spell each word right and that every line of meaningless blabber is as interesting to read as possible. I like to write. Writing on a tobacco and alcohol fix is even better. It's not as good as an underpaid job, because at least you know something is going IN to your bank account, but it's good all the same. Keeps me sane, but not sane enough not to blog.

I've wanted to write for a living for quite some time, but now I'm asked to think for a living, which wouldn't be so bad, because thinking is fun too, but whats not so fun is to be asked how to think in order to make a living. It's almost like brain-washing. All these books and courses on how to be successful in the modern marketplace are effectively books on how you should think or act in society in order to make money. Which isn't bad, just frustrating.

There are numerous people who can get by or even get rich by doing what they love doing. Filthy rich even. Perhaps one can only get rich by doing what he loves. Every book I've read seems to support this ideal. Making sure you don;t fall out of love is the real challenge perhaps. I love writing, and I love doing up ads with a partner, the latter is hard because finding a partner is hard. Doing ads alone is not just hard-work. It's downright torture for me. Writing is relatively easy. Good writing is another story, But I haven't fallen out of love with it just yet.

Just as a writer needs an editor, a copywriter needs an art director. Good editors are hard to find, and so are good art directors. I hope I find one soon.

Opportunity is just as important as hard work.

Putting in hours in equally as important.

Bananas are yellow and they taste nice.

Pyramids are pyramids in shape.

Dinosaurs are majestic and sad.

Maybe the whole point of life is to drive you insane and your job is to fight it.