Lying friends?

I'm learning HTML like crazy these past few days and as you might have noticed, I've been using the knowledge I’m gaining in the last few posts on this blog. Since it is turning out to be a pleasant experience, I'm currently working on a personal website describing myself and my life; something which, I hope, will be a welcome addition to my internet presence and something which the readers can refer back to and reflect upon.

That is the reason why, apart from checking my mail and checking a few other NEW blogs, about which I’ll write in an upcoming post, I have been sitting on at desk going on and on and on, typing about myself. I enjoyed it for the first 5 odd pages in my text processor when words were flowing like a jungle river. But things were different after an interruption of the most irritating type.

My namesake in real life, who is also a class mate of mine, had been my close friend until I found my new set of friends. We used to share everything at one time. After all, he was the first person I came out to. He has had his share of problems in life, some of which led me to firmly believe that the problems I have in mine are outright silly. Therefore, I have always tried to give room for him in my life because I felt like I have to help him out. Always.

Lately I've been suspecting that he has been making use of this freedom. He often rings me up late in the night, sometimes without any conceivable reason, rudely awakening my parents from their sleep. He comes to my place just to use my computer at odd times despite having a computer at home and having access to other computers in the hospital. His excuse would be that his own computer 'is not working'. He even goes through the personal messages on my mobile phone which has put me in several uncomfortable situations. I have tried to suggest to him that it is starting to get annoying and he always seems to shrug off my suggestions mostly by laughing or joking about them.

Yesterday, something happened of that sort. I was busy typing when he called. I tried putting him off but I'm very bad at that and ended up agreeing a one hour deal with him on my computer. I thought I will watch the Wimbledon final between Roger Federer and Andy Roddick. He came and I went down to watch TV. Well after the allotted one hour, I went up to ask him if he was close to winding up. He said "Sorry, but there is still more work" in a most fake kind of way that I felt like not looking at his face. To control myself, I had to take my guitar and play something to overcome my annoyance.

After a few minutes, I asked my friend. "Boy, if I were you, I would be running out of here as soon as I passed my time-limit." He said "Kris, you are just too good to be true." Although it didn’t, and doesn’t even now, make sense, I said "These days, I am very conscious about myself being a pain-in-the-ass to others. I think I'm beginning to be neurotic." He didn't reply. The sheer discomfort of the developing situation made me say that I will go out and get some dinner. I asked him that I would like him to finish his work before I returned.

Back after dinner, I was surprised to see that my friend had gone. I felt happy about how it ended; so happy that I thought I'll watch the Wimbledon match again. Not even ten minutes had passed before my friend came again. Now the excuse was that he couldn't open the file he had just made at his home computer!

Wait a minute! Was he lying about his computer? I felt horrible. Friends were lying to me and making use of me. But I played nice again. I actually watched some tennis with him trying consciously to avoid thinking about what had happened. I was so engrossed with concealing my feelings that I had to fumble through the stack of newspapers very clumsily, unlike the normal me, to find out last Sunday's crossword so that I could cross-check it with the solution for it published this Sunday.

Thankfully, a call from my long lost friend who is getting married in under 2 weeks time saved me from further discomfort. I talked to him over the phone for over half an hour and by the time I had finished, my friend had finished saving his work again to his floppy diskette and gone.

I must comment about the quality of tennis at this point in my post. It was simply breathtaking. Ballistic serves and fore-hands from from Roddick and elegant, graceful, flowing, classic tennis from Federer. I was instantly wondering what I have been missing in the past few years when I couldn't find enough time to watch sport on TV. But then, there will be times like these where compromises need to be made.

Back to my day-By the time, my friend departed, it was already too late to start on my monologue about myself as the Euro 2004 final was starting soon. I watched the splendid match; many would disagree to this I'm sure. I could watch the match only till my cable company screwed the whole thing up late in the first half! How mad I was at that time! First, I thought of waiting. I even tried staring at the in an effort to coaxe it back to life! After about half and hour, I thought this was not going to work out and decided to hit the sack. Before I did that, I switched on BBC World Service on my radio.

The match was on! Whoa! Fans screaming and perceptibly-excited commentators screaming on top of their lungs describing advances made by either of the teams; It was riveting! It was simply very exhilarating just to listen to it. I was left wondering why the TV commentary should sound so insipid.

I thought I would re-start typing on my monologue. But now, the words were not flowing. I was feeling bored typing what I was typing. It was not happening for me. But it was certainly happening for Greece. They went on to win 1 - 0! I bow to the splendid work ethic of the team and execution of the tactics deviced by the coach Otto Rehhagel! In fact so much so, that I'm getting attracted to him already.

The cable connection was restored just after the long whistle at the end of extra time of the second half. I went down to see the celebration of the Greeks and the presentation ceremony. It was wonderful. I felt a tinge of sadness when I saw the face of Figo, Rui Costa and Couto. They all were from the golden generation of Portugese football which promised so much for the passionate nation, but delivered nothing.

I have to admit that the best moment of my day was in the pre-match show when an interview with Scolari was being shown. Oh, he's so cute! He is so expressive. I felt that I was just melting into the couch I was sitting on when he explained how he would react if Portugal go on and win the tournament by a gesture - he pointed out where the his lips are at that point with his two fingers and then dragged these fingers to points bilaterally symmetrical in front of his ears to show that he would be smiling that big! In the end he didn't end up smiling at all. That was disheartening too.

I never meant to let this post go to this length. But I am trying not to put any restrictions on what comes out of me. That is the way, I've been told, to write engaging stuff. I hope this is true and you find this interesting.