On Inertia

"Every body perseveres in its state of being at rest or of moving uniformly straight forward, except insofar as it is compelled to change its state by force impressed."

- Issac Newton, Principia Mathematica

I am so fucking ready to move.

This post has nothing to do with Arsenal and everything to do with the fucking inertia of my life. Then again, maybe it is. Our "transition" phase keeps being extended every year (what year are we looking at for the next title - 2010, 2011?). Arsenal are the side of fucking inertia.

I've been having dreams about the beach. There's something iconic about it; I'm not even an outdoorsy person, and I'm longing for the ocean. I've been frequenting job agencies during my office hours. There are jobs on the Sunshine Coast, up past Noosa. There are jobs that offer the kind of things my soul needs at the moment.

And I'm still fucking here.

We should never have sold Vieria. We should never have let Campbell and Lauren go to Portsmouth. We should've let Henry leave (humanitarian reasons), but not Reyes. We should've found some way to squeeze a couple of productive years out of the Invincibles. Worst fucking mistake in Wenger's career.

But what's so fucking irritating is that the inertia. There's no sense of progress with Arsenal. We have a young side that we've been waiting for, and waiting for, and waiting for... and meanwhile the youth team graduates are banking up and we're no closer to winning the Premiership than we were when Vieria was still a Gunner. van Persie is 24. Flamini is 24. Hleb, Toure and Rosicky are in the prime of their footballing careers. And yet, we still think of them as impish young scamps who will rule the Premiership, one day.

The problem of living for the future is that you lose track of the present. You have airy dreams of winning things and dominance and brilliant, effective play. You overlook the fact that you still have to do a fucking lot to get to that stage. You overlook the pain, the dead weight, the sheer hard yards you've got to do before you can emerge from that fucking chrysalis as a fucking beautiful butterfly. You just sit and wait, wait and sit, and twiddle your fucking thumbs as your teams gets older and not discernibly better.

Fuck that shit.

Buy Benzema. Buy Nasri. Buy Ben Arfa. Buy Hugo Lloris (good player on FM08). Buy for the present and hope that they will be around for the future. Why do we skimp on reserve players and hope that Rosicky and van Persie will make it through a season? Who amongst you have gained a year of life by worrying about the future? Live life and be happy. Build it and they will come.

Ferguson has, all of a sudden, created a fucking awesome side by mortgaging the future to pay for the present. The debt overshadows the club like Usmanov's beergut shadows Arsenal, but who cares? The present is happy, and shiny and wonderful. The future will look after itself. I'm not advocating we hock our brains out to buy the best starlets in the world, but we can afford to spend some money for some good players.

It's time to just fucking apply to those jobs in those sleepy beachside towns in Queensland, pack my bags and fucking leave. What's the fucking point of hanging around?

N.B - it's about fifteen hours later, and after a good night's sleep, I realise I was a bit emotional. It's just the ennui of living a life I really didn't mean to get involved in. I do have to fucking move, though.