Number 10. We both love football so we can both appreciate just how important a number 10 is. It is no coincidence that our favourite player of all time is a number 10; a playmaker. A number 10 is one who makes things happen, without them the team will struggle to score. Often the number 10 decides whether the game is won or lost. The number 10 can drag a team across the line – sometimes singlehandedly.
This is where you come in Dad. You’re our No. 10! You’re our Christian Eriksen, our Eden Hazard, our Kevin De Bruyne… Our Lionel Messi. You’re a prodigy at what you do and we love you for it. You might not get the equivalent of the Ballon d’Or but you have all our love and appreciation.
Today we’d like to celebrate you and all your awesomeness, technical skills… in spite of a lack of agility. Happy birthday Dad! To an extremely delayed retirement as No. 10!
PS A shame you support Arsenal 😉
You look absolutely stunning in that dress…
More so without it…
I kid. I’m just playing…
But you really are gorgeous.
You make me appreciate the gift of sight.
Because you’re a gift.
I’m glad to be here right now.
What? No, it can’t be lust.
Can one lust after art?
Actually – it’s subjective perfection.
I’ve chosen to accept you flaws and all.
So that you seem perfect.
Because you are to me.
No. I’m complimenting you.
Comments based purely on honesty, not flattery.
With these words I try to show a glimpse of your value to me.
I believe paying loved ones compliments is essential. Not only does it let them know that you appreciate them, it gives them confidence and strengthens your relationship. The only guideline would be to be honest. It’s best to be genuine with compliments lest they be empty words and that can normally show resulting in a detrimental effect. So when it comes to compliments, sincerity is key.
“Don’t break his heart, his achy breaky heart. I just don’t think you understand.”
Bastille’s cover of ‘We Can’t Stop’ is nothing short of incredible, especially for me. I know how taste differs from person to person so I will say that line in particular strikes a chord in me.
I considered writing about a man with a heart of steel just the other day, I still might because come to think of it it’s an intriguing concept. But a heart of steel – that’s normally a façade. Men have hearts of flesh too.
“Women are more in touch with their emotions.”
Is this a stereotype? I hear this statement often. It’s often coupled with another statement diminishing emotion in men. I can’t speak for all men but from my own personal experience what you see on the outside doesn’t necessarily correlate with what’s on the inside.
I’m rarely envious (this comes with a lot of effort from myself and my parents) but there is a group of people that I can honestly say I’m envious of… those who cry. I’d give a lung to be like that. Unfortunately I’m not. My tear glands are among the most miserly in all the world. How I wish it were not so. I’ll be happy as can be on the inside but unable to show it on the outside. It makes me feel like I’ve cheated whoever has made me happy. If it can be fixed trust me, I will do just that… but this links to the crux of this post. I fail to show my emotions as well as I’d like… that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. It is just like a bride behind her veil by the altar. Just because she’s hidden behind her veil doesn’t mean she’s not there. If you remove the veil you’ll see her in all her beauty. If you can remove the veil to a man’s emotions. Well… I believe it could be a wonderful thing.
Bastille adds lines to the song which didn’t exist prior, in Miley Cyrus’ original. The added lined are: “Don’t break his heart, his achy breaky heart. I just don’t think you understand…”
Achy breaky… doesn’t that just bleed vulnerability to you? His heart isn’t steel – it’s just brittle.
Even the way he sings has a brokenness to it. It’s almost like he’s screaming out: there’s a heart to be broken underneath all that macho bravado. The pain of it being broken is just as real. It’s just hard to understand.
No! I just made eye contact with someone in the tube! Surely this is the end! No one can survive after such a calamitous event. Isn’t that why everybody else avoids it?
So… help me!
We all die in the end right?
So… tell me: Why?
Why wake up in the morning?
Why make friends?
Why strive for anything?
Why try to stay alive?
After all in the end no one survives it – death.
So – why?
Why work hard?
Why fall in love?
Why do all of this if the end is inevitable?
They stare deep into each other’s eyes.
Then they lean forward.
Their lips meet. It is bliss!
Oh no! She sneezed.
Her cheeks flush a deep red.
That’s his response.
She almost cries.
But it’s ok.
He has a smile on his face.
Relief. Then joy.
She’s found the one for her.
They go again.
Lightning flashes across the sky.
Cracking it open for a short while.
So bright! I’m blinded I can’t see!
I blink away the the weird shapes obscuring my vision.
They finally float away.
For a second I think I’m safe then… CRACK!
The thunder comes.
Yay! That’s my favourite part!
I jump in mock shock.
I love the drums!
After all I’m a fan of rock!
That’s why I lose the game a lot.
I’m always choosing bloody rock…
As if it lives, I just called it “bloody”.
It must be iron that’s why it’s ruddy…
My best friend, my only buddy.
Tell me to stop now. (Referring to myself?)
This stream of thought is unhealthy.
It’s poison don’t you see?
An endless flow of words tumbling over,
Like a waterfall, trailing into the deep.
I’m dry for days, then suddenly – I gush out!
I can’t stop speaking!
You just want me to shut up.
So I do.