Human (part deux)

Rafael Nadal, until the end was not able to read Soderling's game. He was not able to figure out how to counteract the missiles from both wings of Robin Soderling's weapons. The player he crushed 6-1, 6-0 few weeks ago (Rome Masters) seemed like a different player today. Although Nadal tried his usual might to put the ball back in play, in most times he appeared listless and purely reactive; the qualities he is least known for.

In four agonising sets, Nadal bowed out of contention to achieve a record breaking feat of lifting the "Coupe des Mousquetaires" five times in a row. Soderling's supplications were answered when Nadal attempting a drop shot, sliced the ball a good few inches out of the court. Soderling in less subdued jubilation raised both arms as if relieved of his seemingly indeterminate attempts to inflict uncertain yet debilitating strokes of genius against Nadal's formidable defence. However, like a work of magic, he was able to execute when it mattered the most.

Nadal looked far from his usual old self in this battle that Soderling capitalised by converting points after points of blistering, down the line forehands and cracking serves. The sets were closely fought but the king of clay was providently to lose today in a shocking fashion. The inevitable came after saving just 1 out of 5 match points in the process. Soderling didn’t lose his nerve in his quest de-scalping his biggest opponent across the net. He hurled his racquet to the ecstatic crowd (which could fetch a good sum of money on ebay - "the racquet that whipped Nadal's ass") as he posted his biggest win in Roland Garros history. Nadal with his little quick steps as if trying to ponder in disbelief over his loss, walked out of the court acknowledging the cheers from his supporters for his valiant albeit less stellar play.

He is still human after all. The only consolation from his run up to the 4th round is the assurance that his 31 consecutive matches won at Roland Garros remain unparalleled by no one, not even the great Bjorn Borg. That man who'd try equalling that coup is perhaps a preschooler pushed by a doting parent somewhere in a tennis academy or in a ghetto where dreams are sized up against hard work.


For now, with Novak and Nadal (two of most notable clay-courters this year) out of the running, Federer must be grinning from ear to ear. Personally, I dream of a low ranked player holding aloft that cup to signal the break of dominance of the big four (Nadal, Federer, Murray and Djokovic). Nadal's conqueror comes to mind. However, with that bravado of his (Soderling), I guess I should start rooting for Roddick (Andy). It’s high time an American wins this event.


Talking about time, it’s the moment to hit the shops. Retail therapy at this upsetting time is diversion bliss.

Zen for free

This Saturday is different from the many many Saturdays that whizzed me by. I would say, this is rather a beautiful day to lazily sit on one of the wooden benches facing the Thames. The sun, the rain and the wind conspired a truce of solidarity to make us mere mortals happy. It is summer anyway.

With my eyes closed, I could hear the unfolding of waves against the barriers. The rustling of verdant green leaves and the trudging of feet harmonise with the humming motors of river cruises like symphony. Amidst the relentless reminder that I am not alone, you feel that serene uptake of elements by the brain allowing peace and concentration. The imperfect circles created by the swaying shadows of the leaves dance around my feet like children, who at their first day out to the park fill them with unexplained joy and laughter.

It reminded me of a saying about peace; “Peace: it does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart”. (Anon)

The wind beats softly against my body and my eyes feast on the details I haven’t seen before from the corners of age-old stones. I have been to the same nook of this river a number of times and the lines and encryptions of the past still flood my imaginations just like the wandering strangers that cohabit my partaking on elements around me.

This Saturday is one of those rare Saturdays I find the reason to aspire, strive and live. The birds seem content so are the children tugging on their parents around the river bend. The man who walked past me uttered a French statement and sounded beautifully. He seemed content. Despite the haunting saxophone rendition of “Misty”, it lulls one to soporific plight. It has that free-from-strife effect.

There are more than enough reasons to be happy.

Confessions of a non-Beyonce Stan

The o2 arena is arresting. The vast indoor feeling is overwhelming, heightened by the fact that Beyonce is commanding that stage soon. The sense of excitement is palpable.

As soon as the lights went off for Zarif (front act), the audience went nuts. Upon the mention of the diva's name (Beyonce), the crowd went a further step madder. I know I am up for a tonsil-tickling exercise soon. Up next was Shontelle of “t-shirt” song fame. She worked the stage well but “I gotta pee now or else......”.

The “mass wave” rippled around the arena four times. A few more minutes and Beyonce would soon cause hysteria. Right on cue, the acute probing blue lights opened the show followed by the blinding yellow lights from the centre of the stage. Casting a smoky silhouette, Beyonce appeared amidst the screams and feet stomping. She never looked back as she reeled the next hours riding her trusted stilettos.

To make it simple, Beyonce deserves the adulation thus making her synonymous to the following adjectives:

A-1*, accomplished, all-time*, best, capital, consummate, crack, effusive, exaggerated, excessive, extreme, finished, gilt-edge, greatest, highest, hundred-proof, inflated, magnificent, matchless, of highest order, optimum, outstanding, peerless, standout, superb, supreme, surpassing, tops, transcendent, unexcelled, unparalleled, unrivaled, unsurpassed, winning, world-class, 10, ace, bad*, beyond compare, boss*, capital, champion, chief, choicest, cool*, culminating, finest, first, first-class, first-rate, foremost, greatest, highest, incomparable, inimitable, leading, matchless, nonpareil, number 1, optimum, out-of-sight, outstanding, paramount, peerless, perfect, preeminent, premium, prime, primo, principal, sans pareil, second to none, super, superlative, terrific, tops, tough, unequaled

To end the show, there's no other artist who would commit oneself to the ever loyal following with so much gusto. In bright bold etchings.....she declared....I AM YOURS. Clever ending, for “Love begets commitment begetting love”.

Life of Stan

Today’s the day Bo has been anticipating for months. His facebook account has been littered with photos and videos of his “deity” which constitute to about 0.00001% of his Beyonce madness.

Today’s a Bank Holiday but due to unavoidable commitment at work, I decided to work 3-4 hours to get the Acute Program afloat (I have to teach and supervise a plasma exchange session). On my way out, he probably reiterated a million times to keep the tickets safe. If only I am just as big a fan of Beyonce, he will never even dare utter those reminders but I guess he knows me well. I just like Beyonce period (ooooopps, I slipped.... I predict a debate coming up).

Without reservation, I know that I will be entertained. Beyonce is a true visual artist on stage; voice distinctive. Over the years, she's had hits after hits and that alone guarantees a fun sing-along night. Bo said, don’t embarrass me, “Learn the songs!!!”. He forgot the fact that I don’t memorise lyrics; I invent them. He's in for a surprise , I thought.

This will be an interesting night. The world of “stans” (Remember the Eminem video about an obsessive fan? - Stan) against the few like me. On a personal note, when did I ever get too attached with a famous figure that I monitored their daily escapades as well as their time for manicures and colonic irrigations? When did I lose a week of sleep over some famous people's public demise? God, I’m boring!

My obsession of people and other things over the years have fluctuated as forged by needs and funds. My appetite for “Hollywood” will never overshadow my fixation for tennis in general. Nadal is the closest of me being a “stan” however, realising the real definition of the word and the blood, sweat and tears behind it, I think I’m more of a fan. I get upset with Nadal losing a match but I don’t lose sleep over it as long as Federer doesn’t win the final.

Roland Garros is underway. The fan in me is yet again, truly alive. I just can’t sustain the emotion for 365 days of being a “stan”. It’s pure hardwork.

a crown made of foil

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts..... (Shakespeare, As you like it)

The world is a stage and I am one of the props: the cardboard seas, the painted trees and the safety curtain. Most people have opted for an accessory role in life for so many personal reasons. People have exhibited varieties of approach to situations; to life in general. Others recite the Gettysburg address like their life depended on it while others clap and hobnob with the rest for shared glory. Some are just inanimate and mere appurtenance but occupy an important role in getting the job done; like getting a stage act appear more realistic with props that enhance the integrity of the main actor. Revolving that stage, we all occupy certain roles. Some move around and reach their destiny within that stage but others go home and start a different life from thereon.

This is a scrupulous take on Shakespeare's stab on life’s personification. With those rapid changes in living perceptions and its actuality, men have morphed into somebody.... something more encompassing.I am that props a certain Sir Ian Mckelllen and Mr. Ralph Fiennes, they cast their shadows upon. Against their pale medieval costumes, I am the sword they are wielding at each other and the fake blood that’s oozing from Sir Mckellen’s temple. The confetti explosions that gently flit in jubilation of Fiennes' victory is my bosom friend, fluttering onto the stage and the front row of wide-eyed spectators.

We also dreamt of victory. Someday, it’ll come.

I hope I get to slay a dragon.

What's love got to do with it?

My head's heavy from late, late, late night's sleep and still seething from American Idol's result. Kris Allen won; Adam Lambert was phenomenal but lost.

I couldn’t bring myself to scrutinise the voting public for this. It only proves time and time again how opinion differs amongst the hoi polloi. But I thought Adam should have won based on the collective razzle dazzle that he's shown onstage (and offstage) the past weeks. I am sure there will be an echo of this sentiment across the blogosphere so I won’t waste time blabbing about it. But reeeeeeallllly, Adam is so deservedly poised to secure that title: American Idol 2009. I guess you can only push your opinion that far. I am not even an American.

I am teaching today and revising last night made me look at the bright side of it. I have achieved what I have always dreamed of: Teaching. I am down to teach “Renal Bone Disease” today and “Haemodiafiltration” next week at KCL (King's). It's seldom that one would say they’re lucky with what they do for a living. I’m fortunate I could say that.

My last stop is beckoning. Despite my groggy state, I feel inspired by that Beyonce song, “Smash Into You” played on repeat mode for the sixth time now. Imagine Adam Lambert singing his own version of this? But yeah, Adam’s passion is music. It is when you love what you do that you pick yourself up and try again for you think it’s worth it. It's not that he's lost the game (I call it as such for it is), he’s just proven the mantra of politics over talent. However, there are still people out there who believe a talent when they see or hear it.

I dreamt of singing. I have always loved singing but in retrospect, it was teaching my younger brother and sisters that I could bring to mind, narrowing my professional options. That got me to focus my way to the mad world of ambivalence. Not that “I can’t do” that’s why I teach. It’s just a matter of passionate desire that no matter how many pitfalls... entanglement of procrastination and self-loathing in the process, you just carry on.

I'm sure Adam loves what he does. Now who loves their job, raise your hand!

permutation of carbon

Another day, another degree closer to apocalypse

Another day closer to death if this happens first

The tube train I am in is as tight as that hefty man’s blood vessels and as nonchalant as a retired rich pensioner on a Maldives holiday for life. I thought it's good to start the day with a discernible routine. However, the inevitability of the end's beginning is looming as what the placard inscribed with “the end is nigh” says. The free newspaper “Metro” reports the breakdown of economy, the increasing number of swine flu cases and the global warming. The whole world is crumbling.

I am just approaching the other hospital site. Today’s meeting starts at 8am and just way too early for my liking. However, with other people involved in this official get-together having hectic daily grinds at work (not that mine's less frenetic), we all agreed an early start. Despite a slight change of my morning routine, I managed to not get tempted hitting the snooze button and willingly dragged my half-awake body to shower. I am on time for this meeting.

The day’s proceeding went on smoothly. The team (PDN) decided to cancel the “competency development” as the meeting with our Head of Nursing ate up most of our morning pattern. We ended tidying up the office and chucking out documents that are as old as River Phoenix’s career. We needed to create space for the products of our team's ever fecund efforts for the months to come. Out with the old and in with the new.

Nursing has evolved greatly same with my interests that have wandered off to different venues of professional development. The routine however, remained as unpredictable as ever despite the passive and active control put in place by those who have had premonition of change and drive to effect that change over the years. Such inconsistency of health and matters related to it have truly affected how nursing evolution takes one step after another in an unimaginable time frame. New programs put in place over the old ones just because the feasibility and effectiveness of the old practice no longer outweighs the risks; in fact it contributes to it. Let’s say, a few months ago we used stylish specs for haemodialysis only to go for ... visors. Change is predictable thus making the routine acceptable and challenging.

In the run up to few weeks, I expect a major change at work. I am pivotal to this drastic change for I have instigated it. Like the major changes related to health, economy and Earth in general, it will summon the elements of every fibre of my integrity as a person. With that notion alone, I know I have already lost (integrity) but stagnation is synonymous to me as the lack of will to combat sedentary lifestyle.

It is just fattening.

History lesson

Today is totally different from the other Saturdays of the past months. A truly simple day turned out to be just as much fun as those complicated, high-octane weekend with crazy friends. An afternoon with Tess was more than enough to revisit the past that made me the person that I am now. It was a delight.

Late lunch at Busaba (her choosing) with seemingly incessant trivial recollections and musings about life was like partaking on a fattening dessert as we chatted about people, people and more people. After masticating on a soggy “calamari” on top of my “sechan pad thai”, we decided to trek the chock-full Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street looking for bargains and Tess' latest obsession, a handbag and a wicked wedge (shoes). I have grown accustomed to women with dying obsession about fashion for it is exactly the same sentiment I acutely express as well (but not wedges and handbags). Fashion is already genetic. However, logic is something some women have and buying what you don’t really need at this time of financial difficulty is beyond it.

She tried some wedges and handbags and all I could mutter was a gay man's opinion of how it looked on her which hopefully mattered. It was fun having someone with whom I could be myself without pretence. Knowing her since we were preschoolers in the remote island of Romblon made it a lot easier to talk things through and get unbiased opinion about it. I’d say, time is not just a factor in trusting people. It is the foundation. I believe that no matter how years have moulded people into the beings that they are now, the instinctive memory grasps hold of belongingness for it affords reality check and confidence. She said, “I’m sure this bag will go on sale soon. I will buy it by then”. Wise words, wise disposition.

Tess shares the same surname as my mother’s. Although I have no recollection of how we are related, we assumed that with the close knit system of existence in Romblon, she couldn’t be that far off a relative for she shares the same surname as me. We went to the same kindergarten, elementary and high school. You spend years together in the same schools and you don’t stand a chance of alienating yourself to the idea of being understood as a person or a friend. Intentional or not, knowing something about each other is a privilege for it survived years and years of dormancy until today. Connection is not forced; it just happens.

She went on to finish her University degree and so did I. We lived our own lives for a long time and moved on to insurmountable woes and immeasurable blessings; only to cross path yet again in a foreign soil. Sipping her Starbucks mocha in between the giggles and girly gossiping, we crossed barriers of time and found trage-comedy stories of our lives lighter and more meaningful than ever. Our laughter filled up our hearts so did our bladders.

To end a good anamnesis, Eurovision Song Contest just concluded with Norway bagging the top prize with a cutesy medieval tempo of a song called “Fairytale”. The UK entry didn’t disappoint for placing 5th in this European voting; perhaps Lord Andrew Lloyd Webber playing the white grand piano helped. I wonder how much Germany paid the burlesque queen, Dita Von Teese, to appear onstage with their camp entrant in shimmering silvery trousers.

Saturday, from start to finish was cheesy. I enjoyed it.

learn y'all

The ebbing grey skies out of the corner of the sun’s domain belied the impending chaos that precipitated at midday. The popping of haemodialysis machines signified an electrical malfunction that caused the stirring influx of people of varying degree of experiences from the topmost echelon of management to the support workers within the directorate. I was away with my colleague Barbara for the day at New Cross Dialysis Unit for an informal visit when we found out about the unfortunate incident of patients taken off the machines because of life threatening problems with it.

On our way back through an overground train from New Cross Gate Station, the blissful rays of sun were felt but across the slightly farther Eastern horizon loomed the dark clouds threatening a heavy downpour. If I was overly symbolic (and superstitious), I’d think of that as a sign. Carolyn (another colleague of ours – Practice Development Team) said that nurses from their “Away day” were in collective congregation within the affected unit concocting a suitable plan of action for the patients affected by it. It took less than half an hour to get back to Guy’s Hospital. Donning my uniform, I rushed up the 5th floor to offer my help. I must admit, something amazing assaulted my senses up there; multitudes of neuronal activity in harmony at work and they were not some kind of ordinary mental activity but world-class at that. With such indomitable prowess in planning and organisation, mobilisation of activities was like watching a new age of technology in action. It’s like Wii but an upgraded model times 50.

Teamwork is defined as “Cooperative effort by the members of a group or a team to achieve a common goal”. It was a classic example of how minds work towards a single goal and how efficiency and effectiveness attain a higher percentage in that setting. Within hours, a definitive plan was forged and hyperactivity lessened to a minimum.

The sun continued its unabated reign over Londontown warding off the grey clouds of the East. The foreboding washout was all but a fringe of possibility (despite the higher likelihood of happening as London never fails to disappoint). However, with that imaginary SOS-light (like Batman’s) emblazoned across the heavens in times of great need, you can count on the mental network of expertise to help aid the needy.

The team of guy’s Hospital Renal and Urology sure did me proud. Even the Matron who has an incalculable savoir-faire, in her share of concern uttered to the patients and junior staff, “Can I get anyone a cup of tea?”.

Have you met ET yet?

It is Sunday and weekend's nearly gone again. I must have watched a dozen of cooking programs on telly and a couple of old DVDs to while away boredom. If not for this nagging pain from my wisdom tooth extraction, I’d be first to go out of the door for some sun-lighting. Later on, with my body feeling a lot better, I decided to play tennis. The sun is glorious and the breeze, just right.

It was more than a month since I played tennis with Lito. I hate losing matches as being competitive is something I am accustomed to. I play with focus and the will to win which evidently reminded me of someone from my distant past.

He was so competitive back in University that he'd be checking quiz results of his classmates and would feel better getting higher grades. He'd excel in scholastic matters consistently and even in sports. Despite his lack of confidence in dancing, he ventured into it with grit and determination. As for singing, he’d be right there practising with the Music Ministry late evenings for the forthcoming concerts. He’d like to think of himself as the “jack of all trades” but in the process, he felt incomplete and seriously lacking in drive for failures in achieving desired outcomes started to creep in. In that regard, he never got satisfied with his endeavours. It turned out that his life was a competition and losing was just a matter of time. He lost few deals of valour but undeterred, he just kept on going and going until he got tired of it caused by indeterminate results of under-achievement and apocryphal self satisfaction. He turned to his friends for comfort as he lost his esteem. His last blow was being unhappy of his board examination result as goaded by ridiculous expectations from friends and mentors. Few more years and he lived with a far more carefree lifestyle from then on. I heard he’s been everywhere across continents trying to escape his plans, unresolved and unfulfilled.

Hours later, Lito succumbed to a 3-6 6-3 4-6 defeat. The sun and the millions of floating pollens were annoyingly felt as we bashed balls back and forth. With sweat percolating down all over me, I must have cursed the sun for cheering us on. Lito in his downtrodden stride, walked home murmuring about his ruptured blister on his foot. I am just glad to have won thus, lessening that blow to my saturation point of existential dissatisfaction.

Failure is an ingredient to success. It is the driving force behind it. Also, it is much sweeter when you know how it feels to lose. I have lost a lot of battles with the world and sank to the lowest of lows. With every ray of light that came my way, it was welcomed with gratitude and ardour.

It has been a very long time since that man with phobia of failure made his presence to my world. The last time I checked, he was alive and kicking. His Facebook photo was a delight to see for he's got a smile on and vibrancy in demeanour. Books have put “time frame” into maturity in the context of human subsistence. Failure is utterly measurable in numbers.

My take on this: life’s daily demand is now greater than what we can now perceive and take in our psyche. This modern age supplications outweigh the physical and mental attributes of men. Even Wii poses challenges that make us look like mere human beings that we are.

Now, show me a perfect being.

drizzle of fun

**Selfridges just turned 100. The shopping giant continues to lure people to part ways with their hard-earned cash with the high-end products promising much with last year’s slogan, “Buy me, I’ll change your life” and now, “I shop therefore I am”. These anti-consumerist slogans, no matter how shallow or deeply scrutinised, will still be the hallmark of that blinding inveiglement to spend.**

**The Hummingbird Bakery first graced Londontown in 2004 at Portobello Road. In 2007, they opened one in Kensington expanding their grapple of the sweet-toothed population (which is probably 99%). The continuous exchange and invasion of American brands in UK and vice versa is commercialism bliss. This original American export is (according to Marlotte) just “delish”, in her own terms. And so, I tried. As always, the hype overwhelms the taste. **

**Cecile’s birthday gift for Bo was the pair of tickets to the musical, “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” at Adelphi theatre. The Adelphi Theatre along the Strand was founded in 1806 as the “Sans Pareil” and has been home to most of the musicals. It was where the 1988 video of “Cats” was recorded and last occupied by Chicago before “Joseph” claimed it as home. Lusting after Gareth Gates in his loin cloth was abruptly interrupted by the rapturous exuberance of children, cheering on the other kids involved in the musical. I forgot this is a musical with kids outnumbering the adults as cast members. I also forgot how colourful it was until Gareth (as Joseph) started twirling around with his Technicolor Dreamcoat. The long cape reminded me the same explosion of colours during the Pride Parade. What was ALW (Andrew Lloyd Webber) thinking when he was conceptualising this musical?**

Oh, I watched Star Trek yesterday and the watching public being generous; appreciation made clear as clapping ensued.

This financial crisis is a major spigot to socio-cultural boom. Recession is a foe.

it's just a matter of time when....

I think I’m going to be slightly late for work. I woke up on time but dragging myself out of bed was just an enormous task. I hit the snooze button 4 times before I got my domineering reason to demand over my body about my Friday commitments at work. But 15 minutes of being late should be just fine. My attendance record has been impeccable this past year and there’s no reason to mock it up now so off I went to shower as Bach played.

This Friday morning seemed a little bit strange. Aside from the tube being chockablock, there’s some sense of anticipation from faces. A single cough here and there and a single sneeze warranted a gaze of inquisition. Swine flu domination of tabloid papers these past days was enough to stir a silent vigilante out of a concerned citizen. I already started vitamin C- effervescent intake since last week and tortured Bo of health teachings re: staying healthy.

Tube ride in its packed state and poor ventilation is a high risk agenda. A single sneeze could infect the north of London easily, as the main tube I take daily caters mainly to the labour force which constitutes a big chunk of the population. The crisscrossing networks don’t help either as spread is most likely imminent from all directions. Driving a car in London is the least popular way of travel thus, tube and bus rides are possible secondary carriers of this epidemic or technically, potential pandemic.

From today’s Clinical Indicator Meeting, the sweeping talk from the Chief Nurse of the whole trust was reassuring. The plan is in place in frightening scenarios. On our way back to our units, discussion centred on teaching the outpatients Nurses their long lost clinical adroitness. Or shall I say, refreshing OPD nurses’ skills on how to do basic haemodialysis. My team of PDNs (Practice Development Nurses) will push this plan early next week to set up contingency plan for this ongoing health issue. Senior nurses will be asked for their contact numbers in case of health emergencies. Sounds all good to me but the timing is oftentimes off. The health service is always reactive. I am pretty sure that there are fat cats manoeuvring the health service who are responsible for service improvement and future planning but the words “improvement” and “future” seem incongruent being mentioned in one sentence. These words are usually overshadowed by greed, bureaucracy or just plain incompetence.

Another Louis Pasteur or Edward Jenner is a light-year away (if we’re lucky).

like a Knight

The rocks cave in
To the wallop of waves
With its cries shadowy recoil on wind’s tail
Savoured by solitude
Across the beaten steel window
To the throng of desolation and grief.

But the flutter of wind
Like a semaphore of the soul
Ferries the dawn to the dying anticipation
With the heart
With vehemence of fervour
Waking the benumbed, imperturbable repose.

Rule

The music blogs in unanimous agreement of "The Pussy Cat Dolls" state of play.

The pictures speak volumes .

The interpretation of "hush hush" in the eyes and ears of downright funny or plain haters.

five and counting.......

LATEST WIN- Rome Masters, May 2009




Monte Carlo Open - April 2009


Barcelona Open - against David Ferrer


Indian Wells, March 2009

Australian Open (Slam), January 2009

Rafael Nadal's stronghold of the pole position just keeps on getting stronger with already 5 trophies adoring his mantelpiece this early part of tennis season.

2009 Australian Open, (Hard) Roger Federer 7–5, 3–6, 7–6(3), 3–6, 6–2

2009 Indian Wells, (Hard) Andy Murray 6–1, 6–2

2009 Monte Carlo, (Clay) Novak Djokovic 6–3, 2–6, 6–1

2009 Barcelona, Spain (Clay) David Ferrer 6–2, 7–5

2009 Rome, Italy (Clay) Novak Djokovic 7–6(2), 6–2


The willful challenge against Nadal's dominance is yet to be unleashed.

Smash into You!

I remember when the hotly anticipated box office opening of TicketMaster was advertised worldwide about Queen B starting her "I AM.." worldwide tour. For days, I had specific instructions from Bo about manning the laptop and internet connection at the strike of 9am to purchase a pair of tickets for Beyonce's concert date on the 25th of May at the O2 Arena.

This was back in December, when Beyonce's stans were restlessly clogging internet sites with clamour and hysteria about the forthcoming concert. Tickets went on sale before christmas (12th of December)and as per Bo's instruction, armed with a payment card and typing agility (online), I free-dived against the world of stans scavenging for tickets. It took me nearly 5 minutes to get a decent pair of tickets for the concert. I was hunting for front view seats but I knew I'd lose out against the hungry vultures out there if I tried and worst, end up with nothing. Few minutes and even the most remote of ticket seats vanished like fart.

Bo's anticipation was yet again in overdrive. We're expecting the tickets within this week but as days passed by, the growing irascibility was palpable everytime the postman squeezed in a bunch of mails into the mailbox only to find bill posts sans tickets. Foraging through the mails ended up in disappointment until today.

Queen B, here we come.