Showing posts with label SELF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SELF. Show all posts

Friday, 31 July 2015

OF OPINIONS: THE ASHLEY YOUNG EXAMPLE

Football has, since (Korea/Japan)2002, been a huge part of my life as it provides me ample amusement, endless entertainment and no little amount of interesting happenstances that are potential analogies for my writings. Also, I'm a tipster -- make of that what you will. For 13years, I've watched thousands of minutes of realtime football and hours of clips from football of yore. With the background provided above and those in my previous missives, you'd forgive my frequent referencing of footballing guff for stuff that's analogous to my writings. Football is what I know and as the Bavarians say; mia san mia. Indeed, we are. To essence, I am passionate about my opinions and my opinion is that Ashley Young of Man United is a pisspoor footballer. Don't try to convince me, I'm a reticent bastard.

My biggest fear at the beginning of my writing career was getting negative reviews for works. For a long while, I penned stuff and kept them in my room until my brother snooped around and read one of my short stories. He wasn't satisfied with the quality of writing, but he was pained about a character killed. Till today, he wants me to bring the dead character from the dead. A couple of months later, I started a blog and in my first post, I said I wasn't even the smartest person in my clique but I was gonna start publishing thoughts/writings anyways. It wasn't because I was/am a self-centered egomaniac, or that I was less afraid of getting negative reviews -- trust me, nothing gladdens me heart like wholly positive acclaim for me work -- I just chose to focus on the fact people actually formed opinions about my work.

As ever, I'll extrapolate a footballing analogy to provide some perspective. So, the victim/analogy today is my personal take on Ashley Young, a man that plays for the team I support and who I think very little of. He is a winger and far as I'm concerned, wingers should be creative, stylish, electric, skillful and eccentric. Mr Young has none of these traits. Instead, he receives the ball with an awkward control, turns to face his own half, holds the ball for far too long, invites pressure on himself, before inadvertently passing the ball backwards to his defender. When forced to attack, all Mr Young does is cut the ball onto his right foot and hook a high ball into the opposition area which the goalkeeper plucks out of the air 90times out of 100.

Such is my disregard for Mr Young's footballing (dis)abilities that I once blamed him for United's defeat before someone pointed out that he wasn't even in the match day squad. Lol. I'd rather see a younger player take his place and shank  crosses out for throw-ins. Now, when I see Mr Young curl the ball into the goalkeepers arms, I'm not even disappointed anymore. I don't even complain -- just because I don't expect anything footbalically good from the man. However, when someone I think is more technically gifted and has more inherent talent shanks a cross into the goalkeeper's arms, I get angry. I complain. Because I believe that person can do better.

That is how I see work and criticism. That is the perspective I think young people like me should have. Personally, I'm yet to choose a career, but when I do, I never want to be the Ashley Young of that profession -- whence people evaluate my work with varying levels of cursory disinterest. I want my work to provoke some sort of reaction. I want someone to say "this bastard is good" or some people to say they're terribly disappointed by my work. I never want to drift into that cesspit of mediocrity where people won't even be disappointed when I goof. I never want to be that writer that puts cross after cross into the goalkeeper's arms and the fans won't even be disappointed because they don't expect anything better from me. Rave reviews are greatest. Negative reviews will sting your ego, but if it has any merit, you'll be better for it. Negative reviews of extreme sort probably tells more about the reviewer than the reviewee.

More than anything though, If people think you're punching below your weight, take it as a compliment. Aspire to be more than you are. Be more than Ashley Young. Never become Ashley Young.
(...outside of the pitch, Mr Young is a terrific human being)

---CAPTAINCUE (...is a freelance writer taking on gigs for unridiculous money. Send me a direct message on Twitter @Captaincue or send me a mail with your writing needs at kaptaincue@gmail.com)


Wednesday, 11 February 2015

O Captaincue! My Captaincue!


O Captain! My Captain! our
fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every
rack, the prize we sought is
won;
The port is near, the bells I hear,
the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady
keel, the vessel grim and
daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of
red,
Where on the deck my
Captain lies,
Fallen cold and
dead.
O Captain! My Captain! rise up
and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is
flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd
wreaths—for you the shores a-
crowding;
For you they call, the swaying
mass, their eager faces turning;
Here captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your
head;
It is some dream that
on the deck,
You've fallen cold
and dead.
My Captain does not answer,
his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm,
he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and
sound, its voyage closed and
done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship,
comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O
bells!
But I, with mournful
tread,
Walk the deck my
captain lies,
Fallen cold and
dead.

O Captain! My Captain! is a poem written by Walt Whitman in 1865 to celebrate the life of Abe Lincoln.

I'm gonna use the same format in the following poem, but I'll alter the words. Here goes:

   "
O Captaincue! My Captaincue!
Your daunting voyage is underway
You have no idea what nautical terms to use
But you know you'll do just okay

Your dreams are this close, yet they're still so far
Getting ever closer to your goals
A beautiful sight on the horizon
Your ship sailing -- steady as she goes

But O heart! Heart! Heart!
O the bloody tears of anguish
When you were marooned by damaging self-doubt
Constraining potential you should unleash

O Captaincue! My Captaincue!
Back in the saddle, you fucking bastard
Don't give a rat's derriere whose ox you gore
Realize most of your fears are fictional like Asgard

Whenever you're on the verge of despair
Think dear Captain -- Think!
Think of all the battles you've fought
Think dear Captain -- Think!
Think of all the lessons you've been taught
Think dear Captain -- Think!
Think of all the problems you should sort
Think dear Captain -- Think!
Some day, you'll be planted in the ground -- by your lonesome -- left to rot
Think dear Captain -- Think of all these
Will you give it your best shot, or will you not

Rise like a Phoenix
Remember these as your journey into the
world
Let hard work be your prefix
Be different like a remix

You have your heading dear Captaincue
Weigh anchor and set sail
Towards the shore of your goals
May the odds forever be in your favour.
                                             "

A chronically happy birthday Captain. Enjoy.

--->>>Cue (just thought I'd write me a lil something before heading out)