I wake up from my slumber as the ray of sunlight passes the curtains and falls on my eyes, I sit on my bed for a while scrolling down through social media and then I make my way to the washroom. I sit on the toilet knowing this Liquid roster will never work out and as I defecate and the waste masses exit my body I look down and all I see is the current state of Liquid. As I flush the toilet I see the memories of the Intel Grand Slam run and all the other titles getting flushed and fading away into the pit of abyss.
I look in the mirror and the flashbacks of last year's performances hit hard, I grab onto with the sheer force of hope. I hope that we shall rise one day, resurrect as a phoenix from the ashes but now it seems inevitable. The players on the team are way too passive and lord NAF himself cannot do anything. If you want to know how it feels to be a Liquid fan. It hurts everyday, every minute, every second, seeing my favorite team suffer. Seeing my lord NAF struggle in pain. The agony in his face and the sadness that multiplies every time they lose.
I wake up from my slumber as the ray of sunlight passes the curtains and falls on my eyes, I sit on my bed for a while scrolling down through social media and then I make my way to the washroom. I sit on the toilet knowing this Liquid roster will never work out and as I defecate and the waste masses exit my body I look down and all I see is the current state of Liquid. As I flush the toilet I see the memories of the Intel Grand Slam run and all the other titles getting flushed and fading away into the pit of abyss.
I look in the mirror and the flashbacks of last year's performances hit hard, I grab onto with the sheer force of hope. I hope that we shall rise one day, resurrect as a phoenix from the ashes but now it seems inevitable. The players on the team are way too passive and lord NAF himself cannot do anything. If you want to know how it feels to be a Liquid fan. It hurts everyday, every minute, every second, seeing my favorite team suffer. Seeing my lord NAF struggle in pain. The agony in his face and the sadness that multiplies every time they lose.
There are too many people that call themselves what they are not
There are too many people that call themselves what they are not, including on this very server. The design industry seems the worst, but I'm sure its the same in other professions. Everyone with 3 months of some Google class, suddenly calls themself an UI/UX Designer, while the craft (especially UX) takes years to develop. I also know a lot of professional designers that have 20+ years of experience, and still don't call themselves experts. Lucky for us, the professional market also sees through those fake designers. So, hone your craft, become better, and stop calling yourselves UI/UX Designers, when you are not. Or Full Stack Developer, when you only do HTML and CSS. Or Open Heart Surgeon, when you are only a masseuse.
There are too many people that call themselves what they are not, including on this very server. The design industry seems the worst, but I'm sure its the same in other professions. Everyone with 3 months of some Google class, suddenly calls themself an UI/UX Designer, while the craft (especially UX) takes years to develop. I also know a lot of professional designers that have 20+ years of experience, and still don't call themselves experts. Lucky for us, the professional market also sees through those fake designers. So, hone your craft, become better, and stop calling yourselves UI/UX Designers, when you are not. Or Full Stack Developer, when you only do HTML and CSS. Or Open Heart Surgeon, when you are only a masseuse.
twitchquotes:Dear Mr. Morosan, this is Sister Agatha from the preschool down the road. Did you and Rania have a child recently? I ask because of all the crying and whining I've heard coming from your house. The only explanation is that there is an immature person in there, and surely that wouldn't be you, a fine emotionally-stable adult! Please come by and I'll give the child a free lesson in manners! Cheers, Agatha.
Dear Mr. Morosan, this is Sister Agatha from the preschool down the road. Did you and Rania have a child recently? I ask because of all the crying and whining I've heard coming from your house. The only explanation is that there is an immature person in there, and surely that wouldn't be you, a fine emotionally-stable adult! Please come by and I'll give the child a free lesson in manners! Cheers, Agatha.