Friday, 28 July 2006

Oh well… NEXT!

All right people, settle down. Never believe the rumours. Yes, no matter how plausible it all may sound, they’re just rumours. I wasn’t abducted by aliens from the planet Oldskoolrock. Neither was I kidnapped by the reformed Malaysian Mafia led by Rempit Lord, Mat Motorakukenahentamolehseekorkucing. You could say I was detained for awhile. Not by the police. Not by any clandestine cult that wants to rid the world of rappers (damn I wish they existed). And certainly NOT by a rabid girl who’s been stalking me ever since this blog came out (L).

I was detained by me.

Hehehe. Okay okay, I apologize for the rather silly suspense driven drivel.

Honestly speaking, I’ve just resigned my position as Imaginative Provision Administrator*. (I’m paranoid. Sorry.)

Yes, after almost 2 months of going to work at 9-ish and coming back at about 9-ish, I’ve decided that the life of an imaginative person isn’t what I thought I could cut my teeth into. I did a few events; some big, some small but all not really hitting the mark of excellence I had set upon myself. Truth be told, I didn’t really expect big things. I went in, tried my luck, didn’t make much of an impact, realized it, they realized it, and out I went.

I had a blast and the knowledge gained certainly has made me wiser and more experienced. The only thing I want to do now is to actually attend events rather than trying to manage them. Some things should be left to the experts.

So as the last day of my work was slowly about to come, I became severely uncomfortable. Damn, now I wish I had done a better job, I thought. But a more realistic side of me said, LET’S GET OUT OF HERE!

I’m quite the emotional especially when it comes to ‘endings’. I don’t cry for macho’s sake but I do feel sad whenever I have to say “Goodbye” especially to the people who’ve been kind and extremely patient with me. I made mistakes and learned from them though I still committed the same ones due to the pressure.

Before I could officially leave, I had to sign a few papers saying I won’t do this yadda yadda, I won’t do that yadda yadda. Once that was done, I looked around the office one last time and walked out. As soon as I stepped out the door, I felt my whole body became lighter and that the air was somewhat fresher, more invigorating. It was literally catharsis. And I must say that I’ve had a blast. I feel like I’m ready for almost anything.

I’m currently jobless and loving every single second of it. But I know that all good things must come to an end. I’m in the midst of plotting my next move. It’ll be dastardly sinister. It’ll be something that will people talking about it for years to come. I just wish I knew what it was I’m going to do.

So until the next time, take care all you beautiful people (yes, YOU) and keep tuning in to this page, I’ll be back…

Chris is signing off. For now…

PS: * = obviously this isn’t the real title but if you copy this blog post and paste it to Word, use the thesaurus function and from the list I’m sure can figure out the exact title. I have faith in you.

Tuesday, 18 July 2006

Drivin' Mr. Chris

Okay… here goes. (Takes a deep breath) I hate driving. I hate Malaysian drivers. I hate the road transport system. I hate traffic jams. I hate people who brake for no reason. I hate people who do not use their indicators. I hate people who think their steering wheel is a toy thus swerving it from right to left, to one lane to another because it’s fun to see me scream and swerving my own car from right to left, to one lane to another. But most of all, I HATE DRIVING!!! (Didn’t I mention that earlier?)


All righty then. Looks like I’ve finally got that out of my system. I’ve refrained from making a blog post regarding the ever popular Malaysian folk story that is the Chronicles of Malaysian Driving: The Idiots, Idiots and Idiots. Every Mamat, Muthu, Mee, has given their 1 cent on the subject matter. Mostly it’s all a rehash of someone’s story. I’ve read articles from women who think men are idiots while the men think the women folk should not drive at all. Look, I could not care less if the driver is a Datuk or a woman in labour, bad driving IS bad driving.

Naturally my views at first on women drivers skewed towards as inferior to us males. But now it is not so. Both genders are now equal in overall terribleness.

But now it seems a new trend one has emerged, one that is so insidious in its implications that I fear it will become true in a few years’ time… men driving worse than women. It’s an alarming trend no doubt, one that blows louder than any air horn ever invented. I’ve seen men do things with their steering wheel that has left confounded and disappointed in the male species, even my mother drives than better them (and that is saying a FRIGGIN’ LOT).

I would rate myself as an “OK La” driver. I go fast occasionally (pffft). I cut lanes yes but I know when and where to do it. Some men nowadays just don’t know how to use the steering wheels now. Women drivers on the other hand, are the worst on the road yet the best when caught in a deadlock. I’ve never seen a woman use her steering wheel as a weapon of mass frustration. Old men in particular have an affinity to drift to other lanes of which most of the times happen to be the one I’m in. And what’s with the parking these days? I’m absolutely crap at parking but the angles some drivers leave their car just leave me perplexed.

I’m terrified of driving in the parking bay of shopping malls. Many a time I become disoriented and mightily pissed because some people think it is okie dokey to go 100 km/h. For goodness sake people, Hello! You’re in a bloody parking lot! What’s the rush of driving at breakneck speeds? And is it possible for the parking authorities to put up the NO ENTRY signs before I enter them by mistake?

We are blessed to have a road system that is one of the best in the world. The facilities are top notch and of world standard, we have the technology to keep it running optimally, the means to maintain the integrity and all but we tend to miss the turning because the sign post was blocked by a tree.

Chris is signing off. For now…

PS: I’d KILL to even touch a Bugatti Veyron let alone drive one. Preferably on the Autobahn in Germany. OMFG.

Wednesday, 12 July 2006

22 Hours

All right, if I had stayed up just for another 2 hours it would have been the second time in my life I’ve been awake for 24 hours straight. It’s kind of funny to think that the human body can only handle so little abuse before it turns around and says “Asshole” to you.

So what made me stay up for 22 hours?

Firstly is of course, work. Got up at 7, yawned a bajillion times and rolled on bed till I generated enough heat to light up my house. Took a wonderfully refreshing bath, ate heart breakfast and I was off to work at 8.30. Work was slow and little and by 7.30 p.m. I was off. And if there’s one thing I hate more than having to drive through a jam in the morning is driving through a jam when I want to get back home. Argh! Got back, took a quick shower, ate some pizza and I thought I’d watch some Bones before I set on out again. But lo and behold, it was some other freaking show instead. Bugger! When I come back late on Fridays I still manage to watch about 30 minutes of the show but when I get back early it’s some other show! Argh!

9.45 p.m. came and I got a call from Fill saying he’ll be in Sri Hartamas (this place used to be so the bomb but now it has gone to the dogs, literally) in 20 minutes with Ray. I hurriedly packed my bag and headed off. And if you didn’t know this already, well, now you know; I don’t like to drive at night. Simple reason: I have crappy night vision. Maybe I should get my eyes checked I know but am too darn lazy to do so. Anyhow, I managed to get there in one piece though I cursed profusely at a many drivers. Some people should be shot in the ass.

And after all the shit I had to go through, the week finally came to an end when I saw my friends. It’s so nice to sit back, be under the stars and sipping bloody expensive drinks (RM1.50 for teh-o-ais limau is friggin’ pricey okay) together with like-minded friends. And it is as if that I see myself enjoying this more so than previous times. Maybe it’s because me and my friends are no longer the impressionable college kids or the fact that we’re actually now responsible adults in this big bad world. We’re (hopefully) wiser, more learned and nuttier than ever. With our very own, hard-earned money.

There we were listening to rock tunes in the hopes of conver... I mean, introducing a friend who wants to know more. I’ve said it a million times and I’ll say it again, rock isn’t something that can be appreciated over 1 hour’s worth of songs. You can’t expect to differentiate stoner rock from grunge just like that. It takes lots and lots of listens as well as experience. But it was great seeing her head bopping head to the tunes I honestly thought she wouldn’t be able to handle. She proved me wrong. I was pleasantly surprised to see her ever smiling face and the sincerity in actually wanting to know more from someone who’s quite in the know but who is constantly learning. I was honoured and humbled.

The three of us chatted and chatted till when it was time to depart (she had a business engagement to attend to in the morning while I had to be back by 3 a.m., you’ll know why), I honestly wanted the night to go on just a bit more. It really was a case of having a really great time that seemed to end just as it began. Thankfully, I’ll have more of that when I get back from my stint in Singapore for training. Yay!

I got back and waited for 3.30 a.m. to come. Rukun Tetangga (Neighbourhood Watch) is something I have always wanted to avoid doing. It’s not like I don’t have the spirit of communal responsibility but rather, I’d rather spend my nights catching up on my reading and music and not going round and round 2 blocks looking out for surreptitious thieves hiding in bushes. But when I finally did do it, I felt different. There I was, in some ways, protecting not only my family but also others from the possibility of a break-in or worse. Plus the night air was simply invigorating compared to the toxic fumes I smell day in day out. By the end of my shift I was exhausted but I felt good knowing that I did something beneficial for many.

So there you have it. 22 hours of yawns and laughter, having a blast with great friends and the feeling that I made my family and neighbours’ lives a bit safer. It’s definitely something to be proud of.

I know I am.

Chris is signing off. For now…

PS: To Fill and Ray: The minute I get back, the minute I set foot on Malaysian soil, that night itself we’ll have another rock update session (that is, if I don’t pass out when I see my bed). Until then, take care y’all!

Friday, 7 July 2006

Rockstar: Supernova = SuperBLEH

Oh my. Oh my dear, dear Rock Gods. The ignominy of having self professed 'Rockers' butchering, maiming and ultimately shaming, the purity that is Rock. Never have I heard such horrid vocals. The first Rockstar was rock solid (pun so intended). It had the likes of Jordis, Ty, Deanna (the most rocking babe of them all) and of course, Marty Casey and JD Fortune who took the show to whole new heights.

Performance after performance, I cringed and sighed and wished that someone, anybody, would save me from my aural hell. Thankfully, came this South African hobbit chick, Dilana, who saved me from the assault of mediocrity. Her rendition of that Nirvana song left me smiling and wiping a tear because it was so darn good. Then came the other hobbit chick, me forgets the name, but she was as equally good as the South African, though with much better *ahem* merchandise. ALL the men were abysmal save for one who sounded like a slightly less nasally Gavin DeGraw. And even then that wasn't 'real' rock.

And what about Supernova themselves? I don't care about the guitarist even though he was in the monstrous machine that was Guns & Roses while Tommy Lee looks like an old man trying to look young. Jason Newsted who in my opinion, is the most criminally underrated bassist in metal and rock today, is erratic in his comments and is strangely rather restrained here. Dave Navarro is of course, the prettiest man to ever exist. Brooke Burke is as interesting as mint molasses still provides the eye candy.

I for one, really and sincerely hope that this boring and disappointing line-up will surprise me. Because if they don't, I'll be forced to watch GASP! Rock Unite!

Chris is signing off. For now...

PS: I really like that Storm Large (yes, it's her real name). She's pretty and has pipes to go with it though it was one dimensional. Ah ha.

Tuesday, 4 July 2006

Pressure, what pressure?

Tonight’s the night. It’s do or die. It’s 4 friggin’ a.m. Eyes are watery and tired from staring at the computer screen. Another 3 minutes and I’ve set a new personal record of 10 hours straight staring at the dang monitor. Just one more line. Just one more adjustment.... here…

Just… one… more…

Phew, how I so not miss that. The long hours, the coffee consumed could have wiped out the entire stock of Starbucks, the stale perspiration and depravation of anything that is sane. That’s how college life treats you. You’re studying for something that you may not even remember after you have submitted the hard-copy at precisely 6:59 p.m., just before the 7 p.m. submission time.

I for one haven’t been pressured till I wanted to explode. There were times when I was about to reach that level but thankfully it never did come true. I don’t know whether it was because of my nature to start things early or was it just plain me, but I managed to do things without putting off till the last minute. Well, almost.

Funnily enough when the last minute does arrive, my world does a 180 and I’ll become nutty. Not like deranged nutty and I want to kill rabbits but more of a guy who has lost hope in all things that are pure and good.

So, do I work well under pressure? I can’t really say for sure but it’s a given that my work ethics is that of a workhorse. I’ll slog and slog till the very last minute until I know for a fact that I’ve managed to produce a volume of work that satisfies me.

But does that make me hardworking? Or better yet, a workaholic? Maybe it’s in my blood, my parents are the kind that once they’ve set their minds then that’s that. No amount of threats to their hair will make them budge. And I’ve inherited some of it. Some being that I know when to go all the way and when just to stop otherwise I’d be frothing at the mouth.

It’s been 3 weeks into my first real job and I have to say, it’s been quite the experience. Thankfully this job comes with great people, something I’m sort of good at (creative writing though is it any good, I’ll leave it to my boss to decide) and my office is like 10 minutes away from home.

Ahh, who could ask for more?

Chris is signing off. For now…

PS: I hope Germany wins! Bummeln Sie weg von Ihnen Italiener!