Chris's Normally Abnormal Critiques

Happy New Year. Happy Chinese New Year. Ha..Fuck it, 2012 already sucks.

2012-01-24T16:08:00.000+08:00

People!

How are you doing? I hope the holidays have been kind to you. Rejuvenated, I am. This is the second time I'm back in KL in a month and it feels great. Except for the heat. The damn, freaking heat. But all is swell in the household. Tomorrow, I will fly back to the island of tender characters who masquerade behind a wall of falseness to hide their lack of spine. Highfalutin is their calling card and highfalutin they shall be known thenceforth.

Gosh, I love Dictionary.com.

It's been nearly 7 months since I've left home to work abroad and the inevitable I-miss-home feeling is still there and strikes its hardest blow the day before departure. Mummy's boy I am and will always be. Yes, every month I will post something similar to this but it's the truth and it's easier to write the truth. I leave the lying in fiction.

2012 started decently, to put it mildly. People were still in the holiday mood thus were more forgiving of one's mistake. As the days went by, that same forgiving nature was replaced with a more familiar tone: kiasu. Yes, the stories are indeed true. And I will reinforce this statement till the day I die. It's like they are born with a predefined fear of failing that they actually botch things because a one-time take on things is the only way and mistakes receive punishment of the highest order. Argh, all this anger is making me hungry for food. Real food. Read: Malaysian food.

And don't get me started on the accent.

I'm saving that for the next post.

Ta.

See ya, 2011. Hello, 2012.

2011-12-31T17:37:00.002+08:00

2011 is about to say sayonara and here I am posting a blog post about it. Should I be out and about ushering in the new year?

Fuck no.

I am perfectly happy to sit at home, watch TV and be with my family. This time tomorrow, I'll be back in Singapore. The sadness is still there, even packing my new Uniqlo cotton socks is starting to make me feel melancholy.

But I'll be back. I know I will.

2011 has been an emotional roller coaster. I experienced some decent highs and the lowest of lows in recent memory. I'm not going to go all retrospective as the nostalgia will make me wish I had a hanky.

I shall bid you adieu and I hope your last day of 2011 will be a blast. As for 2012, well, let's hope that movie's prophetic moment does not come true.

Happy New Year.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Beginning next year (tomorrow) some changes shall take place in this blog. Nothing major but you'll notice it. I hope.

R.I.P Gary Speed

2011-11-30T09:24:00.001+08:00

When I opened the Daily Mail a few days ago, the first article that came up was the news of Gary Speed's passing.

To say it was shocking would be a terrible understatement.

Total disbelief filled me. I sat, hunched, over my tiny Macbook Air (this post was not paid for by Apple, sigh) staring at the screen for a good half minute*, thinking this was a terrible misprint.

It wasn't.

I never knew the guy, of course, but his passing did affect me after the article mentioned he committed suicide. When he was still a football player, there was no reported incidents of him causing debauchery on and off the pitch. He was always portrayed as the model footballer; dedicated to the game and utterly loving every minute of it. The word on his death is depression. Depression? This man had a glowing career as a player, is on the rise as manager of Wales, has a lovely wife and two children, yet, was apparently afflicted with depression. I can't even begin to fathom what the family is going through right now but I wish them well in their time of privacy.

On the outside, all seemed well, but it seems the truth is far from that. It is really sad, no? You have the world in your hands yet to have such an illness coursing through your being, rearing its ugly head every now and then must be tormenting. When I get depressed, I shrug my shoulders and laugh it off. Even if it's something major, nothing will keep me dwelling on it for long.

There is now a circular from the Football Association going around their members the effects of depression. This is a very good effort from them as depression can strike at anyone, regardless of their well-being.

I've seen how mild depression can afflict a person and even then it was very difficult for me to help this person who happens to be a dear friend. It's saddening and the helplessness of it all is something I wish upon no-one.

Football has lost a talent but it's his family that will feel the lost the most. My heartfelt condolences go out to the Speed family.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I apologise if there is some satire in this post. I originally intended for this to be a rather sombre and serious affair but I've always viewed death as a time of reflecting and celebrating one's life, mourning can be done in private.

*The last time I did that was because I was looking at my current crush, Gillian Jacobs, from the brilliant show, Community)

Marriage made in Hollywood.

2011-11-24T17:11:00.000+08:00

Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore are no more (a pun, indeed).

Big surprise.

Kim Kardashian and some giant marry then divorce within months of getting hitched.

Big surprise.

The more outrageous, the more lavish, the more storm of press a wedding gets these days from Hollywood the more likely said wedding will have a chance of lasting about as long as me having to eat after a vigorous workout session.

About 30 minutes. And that's just me after an Arms session*.

I've always viewed marriage as committing yourself to someone that you love and cherish and will do anything to make your partner happy. "Get married for the right reasons" is what I've always maintained. What is with them and getting married after meeting for a week over cheap drinks and tapas? You know, when things are getting serious they'll start "shopping"** for a place together. A nest for them to come home to and roost.

Then, they break up after 2 months, citing incompatible ideals thus selling their pad for a cool couple of bucks. Well, millions are cool for them, mere mortals like you and I would be jumping for joy if we had a quarter of it.

Marriage in America is akin to their burgers; full of promise and wonder but ultimately loaded with fat and grease that you no longer want anymore.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Speaking of burgers, man, I want me one.

*If I do Back, Chest or Legs, it'll be 15 minutes. I kid you not.
**Honestly, celebrities "shopping" for a new place is depressing. It's as though they are shopping for socks.

It's been a while, no?

2011-11-14T16:16:00.001+08:00

Wow, time has passed real quick. For one, I no longer am the emo bugger that used to well-up at the mere mention of "Family", "Malaysia", "Food". (I do well-up if I see my family's picture. Or when I see Malaysian food.) Last post of mine was in July. July! My goodness, I used to get all pissy and agitated if I didn't post something by the week and here I am, posting something 4 months later.

But, better late than never, right?

The reasons why I haven't been blogging:

Work - Ever since I started work in Singapore, my once mundane work life is no more.
Gym - Lifting weights + After working hours + Late dinners = Massive mushy brain.
My English is crap - One of my favourite things in the world is to read. Sadly, and painfully to admit, reading has taken a back seat. A back seat all the way back of Chris's Bus of Things to Do. The free time that I had was either taken up by the PS3 or watching Arrested Development. However, I am happy to say that I am picking up books again and reading them. Yes, reading! And not just looking at the cover and wishing I was reading them but actual reading! With my eyes! Okay, enough of the abuse of !. Seriously, though, I find that my having not reading has deteriorated my English. When I read, I would check the grammar, the punctuations, and so on. Heck, even on Facebook I cringe whenever I post something as innocuous as a one-liner as it will inconceivably be grammatically wrong. I am happy to announce that I am starting to pick up reading again and it's a joy. Not to mention my grammar has somewhat been saved from the sharks of imbecility.

I don't know when my next post will be but I hope it won't be four months down the road. I wish everyone well and stay beautiful!

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Yes, I've actually had to dumb-down my English here in Singapore. Can you believe that?

Holding on to what I haven’t got.

2011-07-04T12:47:00.000+08:00

As I write this, the surroundings are getting more familiar. The sights and sounds of the things around me are starting to become second nature in my mind's eye. (Though, I must say that I wouldn't mind the damn birds disappear and never return. Preferably in the form of crispy chicken.) I am getting used to the things here; escalators escalating people at a pace that would make people back home tumble as they get off, buses braking with so much force that not holding to anything would lead to face on floor, putting tissue paper on to tables and then coming back to the table with the tissue and a place to sit and eat.

But I yearn for the comforts of home. My real home.

It's been a month since I left home to come to Singapore. I left because I wanted to take total control of my life and career. In terms of career, if I was still in Malaysia, I have enough experience to go quite far but I'd still be fighting to get the best parts of the job. Definitely not a good thing since I want to settle down in the next 3 years or so. So, I threw my resume to only one place and that one place grabbed it and hired me.

Sounds good, right? I thought so, too. But that was when my family and girl were still around. Nothing could've warned me of the roller-coaster of emotions I was going to endure. I had no clue whatsoever that the homesickness was going to be so profound. I never could have imagined that I would just shed tears whilst walking down to the bus stop to get to work because of the sorrow and heartache I was feeling. Even after a month, I still feel a void.

The day me and my family parted, I embraced them, said I love them very much and hopped into the train. The journey back to the apartment was the most emotionally numbing experience since the day my dad passed away. As each station whizzed by me, an abyss in my heart and soul came to be. I cried every time I saw them on Skype. In a strange twist of fate, I have come to love my family even more than I ever imagined. I am saving all my leaves so that I can come home and spend as much time with them as possible. Heck, I've bookmarked all the airlines and bus companies websites so that I can get a ticket and head home for the weekend.

The plan was for me and my girl to come here, to start anew and establish ourselves. Sadly, she's not here. Yet. And that pains me greatly. With family, you know you will have to leave them eventually and that wherever they are that's home. Being apart with my RM kills me. We have to keep reminding ourselves that this is temporary, that we will be together and the pain would be a distant memory. But it is the journey getting there that greatly hurts the soul. We are not giving up on her coming here, till then, we will have to travel back and forth every month otherwise the heart will suffer. It drains the bank account but it's something that needs to be done.

They say time will heal all wounds. I should know, I've used that numerous times. As corny as this may sound, love is keeping me sane.

If only love could pay some of the bills as well.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Also, I seem to keep abreast with Malaysian news more than I did. Curious, no?

All good things must come to an end...

2011-05-22T11:57:00.000+08:00

...or does it have to be?

Life is short. We make choices every day that defines the present and shapes the future. The past? The past is like a bookmark that you can go back to, review what happened, and learn from it.

Never stop experiencing life because life is experiencing.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Judgement day was yesterday. Yeah, nothing happened. Pfft.

Sometimes, you've got to believe.

2011-04-18T09:06:00.002+08:00

Last week was, man, a week to remember.

What a traumatising week.

Training had been so-so. What I had intended to do ended up being half-baked. Strangely enough, it was doing an unplanned training for biceps that gave me the boost and pump I had been chasing. Oh, well. Shit happens.

But that was only the beginning.

Running at full tilt down the busy streets in the Golden Triangle of Kuala Lumpur must've been a sight to behold. I reckon you'd do the same if you've realised that your wallet is missing. Tearing through the Suria KLCC mall was no fun. It was crowded and people had seemed to contrive in a highly secretive and tacit way to block my way at every turn I took. My family was with me and I told them what happened and they helped by enquiring with the mall's security for help.

My mind was racing through thoughts of my IC is going to be used in drug-related crime, I'd have to cancel all my cards and worst still was having to buy a new wallet as the wallet I had lost was pretty darn nice. While the family checked with security I ran back to the gym as there was the last place I had seen my wallet. But, I knew it wasn't there because I remember distinctively I took it out to keep back the gym card. Yet, I still ran as fast as I could, hoping for a miracle.

You know how things happen for a reason? Well, stopping to catch my breath, I was approached by this gangly Indian fellow. Of course, I became wary as I was in an area (I took the shortcuts I knew which meant I went through secluded areas) where thievery had been reported. Panting, short of breath I looked at him, thinking he was lost or asking for the time. It was neither.

Indian Fellow: Sir, you are _____
Me: What??! (I was preparing to run away)
Indian Fellow: Sir, you have a very lucky face and _____
Me: (Off sprinting) What the fuck! Fuck you, man!

Traffic was relatively well-behaved so it was all right for me to criss-cross in between cars. After running for what seemed like for eternity, with lactic acid building up and muscles aching after punishing my body earlier, I felt my mobile phone ringing. I looked up to the sky, yelled silently, and answered.

If the relief emanated from me was tangible it would have been the size of a (mini) bus. The call was from the bank, informing me that the mall security had my wallet and they were asking me if I wanted to block it, just in case. From there, I called my family about it and told them I'd see them soon. Walking back to the mall, I was in a stupor. A mixture of alleviation and anger simmered in me, how on earth could I have been so careless. Crossing the roads, with beads of sweat trickling down my face, making my way turtle-like as my legs had turned to mush, I was hit a realization. I literally stopped and stood still for a while. My mind played back everything and came to the part where I encountered the Indian fellow.

What did he mean when he said those things? How could he have known I was in dire straits? Was he the kind soul that found the wallet and returned everything? I immediately dismissed him as some good-for-nothing vagabond for proclaiming me as lucky as, at that time, had lost my identity. With even more langurous movements from my legs, I willed myself to walk quickly and reclaim what was lost.

Things always happen for a reason. Sometimes you don't realise it at first but when you do, it'll strike home. Whether or not you believe in miracles or the equivalent it's entirely up to you.

As for me, on that day, I believed.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. To the person who found it and did what you did, you have my eternal gratitude.

Great minds think alike. Greater minds don't dress alike.

2011-04-09T21:00:00.001+08:00

I'll be as brutally honest as I can be: I absolutely, friggin' abhor couples who wear the same outfits. It is not cute. It is not clever. It is not something to be proud of. In fact, you and your equally sloth-minded partner should bury your heads in shame.

Matching outfits only work if both are blind.

I see this trend infecting young and old. The young tend to have upturned collars and wear shorts. The old wear something similar but may share the same set of dentures. Why do they do it? They say ignorance is bliss and if that's the case these yobs are as guilty as Charlie Sheen.

The only time couples are allowed to even wear the same outfit is if it's for an event that requires them to be dressed in uniform. Apart from that, lay off the matching leotards and sequined blazers. Please, do not harm the children.

You wouldn't catch me and my girl wearing the same outfits. Never, I tell you.

Now, where did I leave that blouse...

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Big news coming soon. Real soon.

Wow. It's been a while, eh?

2011-04-01T21:31:00.000+08:00

What up, minions?

Oh, how time flies when your brain is nothing more than mush. I make no apologies for the absence, I just could not think of any worthwhile thing to say.

There is light, though. The brain is now "on" and I've a couple of things lined up in the coming weeks. Interesting times are abound, my friend.

But I must leave for now and return to my lair and meditate.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. This post was brought to you by Charlie Sheen's Tiger Blood.

Japan, I heart you.

2011-03-16T07:34:00.000+08:00

I may have yet to visit you but I'm sure I will some day. Till then my heart goes out to all who have perished, surviving and living.

The land of the rising sun shall arise again.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Funny how the Whites of the good ole US of A haven't had 101 concerts in support of this tragedy.
P.P.S. Where's Bono, by the way?

White supremacy does exist.

2011-03-06T21:13:00.000+08:00

People either look at me like I am a leper or I have unsightly boils all over my body when I order food. Even the auntie at the mixed rice shop gets unhappy when I ask for less rice as though I have committed an unpardonable sin. But nothing beats the look of utter contempt I get when ordering black coffee from you know where. Conversely, when a wizened old man with a belly the size of Singapore comes in his short shorts and knee-high white socks questions what's in an ice-blended banana chocolate drink the same server will instantly stand upright and flash a smile worthy of being in a cheap Kodak pictorial for midgets.

Yes, I know I have spoken of the above in the past but I am revisiting this with a wider spectrum. Recently, after being acquired by hillbillies with better suits, the company I am in now has seen it fit that we should abandon our comfortable ways and embrace Americana. In an oily, greasy, cholesterol-packed way typical of their jumbo burgers, naturally. You see, partner (said in an accent that would make Jeff Bridges' character in True Grit nod in respect), the way has been set and the way shall be met. I don't know whether it was a lackadaisical almost bordering on whimsical err of character on some boss's part or the deadlines to accomplish certain tasks were given at such notice it threw everyone out of balance. Whatever the reasons are, the ball to get things rolling has started rolling, all right, but it's rolling at a pace that is flipping the panic buttons of some people with the Eject button being last resort lest they be crushed under the weight of (unjust) expectation.

Asians have always been subservient to the wishes of the Whites, not West. People mistake the West as being the all-conquering but it is the Whites that still hold the trump card even when they don't know they have the trump card. You see, we Asians have been pandering and wanting to be like the Westerners for so long that everyone has become inured, numb from all the kowtowing and ball-licking of our forefathers that it's business as usual for the Asians to slog the night away trying to solve an issue. You want to go home at 5:30PM? Sure, go right ahead. But don't forget to look down and have tunnel vision because the stares of incredulity of going home on the dot will be thrown at you like daggers in the night. But, it it's in the UK or US, pray, tell me why we're still here? To the pub we go, amigos!

However, not all is gloomy. After decades of being mocked at for being dog-eating, infatuated with concubines and guilty of promoting rice bowls as apparatuses for haircuts China is now turning the tables on the Whites. Now it seems the Whites are very keen on expanding their businesses into the former Communist-loving country of a gazillion chicken feet dishes. India doesn't count because Indians are still universally looked down upon.

We have to be realistic, of course. The time of White supremacy is slowly coming to an end. A balance of power will emerge and things will be for the better. I am confident of it. Change won't come overnight. I might be able to see its birth but I doubt I'll see it growing up.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. For all of us who tirelessly make the lives of Whites easier, I raise my glass of cold water to you and salute. You deserve it.

Learn to walk, fool!

2011-03-03T18:14:00.001+08:00

The weather was, if I'm being honest here, absolutely hot.

Wait, make that absolutely, mindbogglingly, friggin' hot.

The 3 days in Singapore proved to be a colossal marathon session that I didn't even sign up for. There are a lot of things that irk but nothing irked me more* in Singapore than the damn people's walking sense. Yes, walking sense. I was bumped, smashed, knocked, by people of all ages. Yes, even a child would walk right into me but thankfully I averted my course in the nick of time because the child's trajectory was heading straight to the nebula that is my crotch.

One of the biggest pet peeves has to be people walking whilst reading. I know reading is good for you but have some common sense. When you're intensely reading the latest gossip surrounding that Bieber thing you inadvertently walk right into my path. I swerve to the side, shoot you a scowl worthy of being called Scottish, yet you walk on by reading about that Bieber thing.

I don't get it when people walk up the escalator when the staircase is empty and is yours to frolic about if it pleases you. No, you expect me to move aside, with nary a polite muttering of Excuse Me and you have the courtesy to hit me from behind with your large buttocks. Use the stairs, moron. Your hamstrings and glutes would look better, too.

Of course, this also happens in Malaysia. Sometimes it's worse, you get teenagers giggling and taking up the entire walk path and they're walking at a pace of 1 step per eternity. Don't get me started with the Middle Easterners who are here. They are absolutely the worst. They can see you coming a mile way yet they still contrive to either block your path or walk right into you. Yes, I know your country spoils you rotten as hell but when you're abroad and on someone's turf you show some respect. All that oil will run out and you will be left with sand and mega buildings with the only inhabitants being cockroaches. Wait, that's the same thing. Nevermind.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Anyway, the idiots in Singapore couldn't tarnish the wonderfulness of the trip. Singapore maybe the most artificial country I've been thus far but it's the best artificial country. Kudos to kiasunism!

The beginning of the end?

2011-02-21T21:29:00.000+08:00

This could be the beginning of the end, folks.

Or, it could not be.

Stay beautiful, beautiful people.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I have a craving for ice-cream.

Happy 2nd Valentine's Day to the bestest in the world.

2011-02-14T21:20:00.001+08:00

I love you.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Wayne Rooney, what a goal.

Me man, you woman. We all idiot.

2011-02-07T13:53:00.000+08:00

Men drive better than women.

There, I've said it. It's the most commonly uttered sexist remark that will illicit chortles of derisive sniggers from men and bra-burning pickets of consternation from women. Yet, it's also somewhat universally agreed.

Recently, a scandal erupted from the good ole country of England that brought men and women together, vilifying respected gentlemen over a horrific sexist remark mentioned in broad daylight. (Apparently, if it's pitch black nobody notices.)

The offence: two middle-aged men, were surreptitiously recorded by a dastardly being, say to each other that the female linesman (yes, I know it's a misnomer) could do well with a little education. Nope, not a tertiary course in baking, but in football lore. Those in the footballing circle swiftly condemned the offenders, branding their remarks as from the Stone Age, totally unacceptable in today's climate that is striving for egalitarian societies where both genders (and those in-between) can prosper in harmony and sip on margaritas on a sunny day.

In short, they were pilloried for being men.

It wasn't the first time such comments were spewed forth from their mouths. In fact, more evidence has surfaced that it has happened before. Here's the thing: it was said in a private, tête-à-tête environment, expressed off-air with no intention of it making its way into the public's ears. Does that make it less bad? Of course not. However, they were framed. Caught in the act. Somebody must have received a really bad Christmas pudding from either of them or both to unleash the career-killer recordings.

Yet, when women call us men Neanderthals we have to accept it lest we be branded something worse. (I've thought of what is worse than Neanderthals but none come to mind.) Do I agree with what they said? Tough one. If the linesman was a male, the two men would've called him something accordingly but since it was a female the comments were so. Heck, if I had gone over to the local coffee shop I would've heard the same thing, in several languages at once, even.

We are inherently racist and having sexist thoughts come together to form an ugly side of humanity. In the office, if the pretty girl you work with gets the promotion you've been after you would probably comment on her gender. Your friends would do the same. The same goes the other way. The mind will pick the gender and then the race thus a volley of an obscene kind gets hurtled out from the mouth.

Raise your hand if you've not even thought of a sexist-based comment. Thought so.

Of course I knew you'd say that. I am man, after all.

This is manly Chris, signing off.

P.S. It may come across that I am defending the two geezers. Yes, I am. Not their remarks but the fact that they have been criminalised because of their private affairs by people with grudges against them. Would you be happy if someone records your words?

The Green Hornet

2011-01-30T21:42:00.001+08:00

30 days into the new year and we already have a winner.

The winner of the Worst Movie award of 2011.

Seth Rogen's The Green Hornet is put simply, absolute trash. I had absolutely no expectations for this movie at all. My reluctance to watch at first stemmed from two reasons: Seth Rogen and Jay Chou. In the end, I was vindicated categorically for the former while pleasantly surprised and was coloured impressed by the latter. Only the most infinitesimal of reasons why I would pay for the movie tickets was because of Christoph 'The Inglorius Basterd' Waltz. Ever since he terrorised Brad Pitt and co in four different languages, I thought, this can't be that bad.

It wasn't bad. It was an abomination.

Dialogue and how its presented don't really bother me all that much, truth be told, when it comes to the movies I watch. If I'm going to watch a movie where the nature of its story and its dialogue are the key to the success of it, then, I would pay attention. After all, you don't watch Daniel Day-Lewis and expect him to spew obscenities in an American accent now, do you? I genuinely thought that the dialogue in this "reimagined" Green Hornet would be decent. Instead, all I hear from the increasingly, excruciatingly noxious Rogen are: "shit", "bitch", "Yo", and "SHIT!" The dialogue of his and one Evan Goldberg resembles that of chatters of 12-year-old boys who've discovered porn for the first time and are wondering why their little brothers down there are all a tingle. I cannot fathom the person's rationale, or rather, sanity, when giving the final green (pun intended tremendously) light to this atrocity. The script reeks of juvenile meanderings, where big booms and silly jokes try to mask its soulless existence. I wish I could describe further but doing so would make me more livid so I'll leave it with this:

Even my 6-year-old cousin speaks more sense than the entire movie.

The story is simple and follows a very linear path and I will try to summarise it as best as I can because I'm getting of weary remembering this anathema of the year. Rogen's character, Brit Reid, has just lost his father due to a fatal bee sting. He inherits the father's newspaper empire but as we are educated right at the beginning of the movie is that Brit is a curly-haired yob with a penchant for toy figurines. Brit is a toothless, smarmy, incorrigible, imbecile that spends his days bumming around his father's palace of a home so when he's entrusted with running the newspaper, he flees like the dingbat he is. After befriending, Kato, played by a rather good Jay Chou, they both bond together over seemingly nothing at all and start their misguided heroic adventures. Soon, they make a name for themselves and keep on their shenanigans with Brit instructing his newspaper team to run stories of the Green Hornet. We are are then introduced a dry-looking yet still ditzy Cameron Diaz whose character's name eludes me now so I'll just call her Chesire Cat who is hired as the personal assistant to Brit. Brit tells her to ramp up the notoriety of the Green Hornet to spur his obsessive compulsive behaviour of stroking his own balls. Of course, the self-proclaimed gangsta of all gangstas is none other than Waltz himself, playing Chudnofsky with the same look and expressions as his dastardly portrayal of Col. Hans Landa but none of the panache. This is probably due to the aforesaid twaddle of a script. In the end, there's the inevitable showdown where after nearly 2 hours is revealed and my hatred is complete. Any surprises? No. Was I willing to tear down the cinema with my bare hands? You bet.

Swimming in the sea of movideom dross, it was left to the Asian to somehow keep this fast sinking sampan afloat, Jay 'My smile and scowl are one' Chou, playing Kato, made famous by a certain Bruce Lee. Even with his haltering command of English, he at least saved some dignity to proceedings. He was actually likeable albeit with a scowl thicker than miso soup.

I want to believe that Rogen wanted to pay homage to this somewhat forgotten title but to do it in the manner he did, is not only besmirching its legacy, it leaves a terribly awful taste in the choices of Hollywood these days. I cannot in good faith recommend this if you view dialogue and script in slight regard.

Seth Rogen, grow up.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Happy Chinese New Year to all. Have a great one.

Taking a break from blogging...

2011-01-24T17:31:00.002+08:00

So here's a rather fetching picture of a rather splendid team:

Enjoy the week, people.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I really have nothing in mind this week. Not even a tiny morsel of an idea. Am I getting old?

You talking to me? Wait, now I see your message.

2011-01-16T21:42:00.000+08:00

Lunch time is sanctimonious. When the clock strikes 12 it also strikes the tummy. Pangs of hunger start to bang on the sides of your stomach causing you to click on the Send button of your work's email program. Thankfully, you've taken out your boss's email address just before the accident. Explaining to him why things transpired the way they did during his absence would just be a killjoy.

Scores of hungry buggers start to stream out of their respective office. All of them thinking of where to gorge themselves silly on carbs and wonder why they feel so darn sleepy by 2pm. While waiting for the food to arrive everyone starts whipping out their phones. One would be checking the stock market, another would be loading up Angry Birds while another pair would compare versions and what they can do with jailbreak software. And there is me. Waiting for the food. Looking at other tables and noticing the same thing. People on their phones. People not talking to each other. They only time they do is when they want ketchup.

What happened to good old gossip? What about the news that the receptionist is actually a man? Have we sacrificed being gregarious by swapping communicating with one another by peering intently into a 3" screen? I find it rude that you start playing a game right in front of me and others when you could actually have decent conversations. Maybe it's because I don't have one of them phones that can allow you to be on an IM or surf the Internet so I can't do the same. But when I'm with people, especially people I work with, I want to have chats. They can be about anything at all. It doesn't matter what the topic is as long as there are voices in the air and not the clickity-clickity sounds of the onboard keypad.

So next time you whip out your phone, please, spare a thought to that someone who doesn't have the phone to check his emails. Just don't send him an instant message.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Blog posts will be a bit short till further notice. This is because I've rediscovered the joys of gaming. Tee hee.

Death Penalty - It's the right thing to use.

2011-01-11T18:24:00.000+08:00

I am, by all accounts, a misanthrope.

Going to work at 0600, I curse at all the silly drivers. I get into the train I curse at all the idiots who make a mad dash thinking their little spring will propel them into the coach but instead end up getting crush in between the doors.Whenever I see idiocy I call it out. People would say, why do you care? The truth is:

I don't.

So why do I still make a fuss? It's something inbred in me. Can't change, but I want to. Sometimes I wish physical pain be inflicted on the imbeciles who cross my path. Is it a good trait? Of course not. However, as part of an ongoing mission to be a better human being I now count to 1 (tried going up to 3 but I lost patience), take a deep breath and sigh. Walking away is the prefered choice these days. I am giving my all to be a better person, hoping to eradicate the bad attributes that attached themselves onto my psyche. But there's one that will probably stay with me infinitely.

I support the death penalty.

Raping of minors/elderly. Mass murder. These two, two me, are the unpardonable sins of humankind. What reason could the perpetrators give that would exonerate them? None. Why should these monsters be put in a cell, wasting taxpayer's money and space, when a needle will settle the score? Killing is wrong according to this here site. They have some salient points but they're all applicable to cases where there's a lot of circumstantial evidence and where the benefit of doubt can cloud judgement. I am for the death penalty for cases where there is 100% certainty he/she committed the atrocity.

The punishment should fit the crime, so goes the adage. I wholeheartedly concur.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Further to the post above, I believe you know what I would do to the assailant.

2011. The year of rabbit heads, bigger guns and a potentially new environment.

2011-01-02T21:45:00.002+08:00

Happy New Year, everyone! Yes, 2010 is a now a distant memory.

What was supposed to be a grand celebration turned out to be as exciting as watching a limpid soufflé rise. 2011 arrived in a whimper. Besides the pretty firework display, the other bang came with our buck as a feast fit for 10 was charged between 4.

All in all, this was me and my buds preferred choice to usher in 2011.

I've always had resolutions but they never had MUST-DO attached to it. I reckon that if I had done so I would be buggered madly if didn't achieve them. So they're there and I will do my best to fulfil them. Therefore, without any more ado, here they are in no particular order:

Re-evaluate my career's progression. I have a sneaky suspicion a most radical outcome will be achieved this year. Watch this space.
Backing off on the heavy weights. While I will want to continue and see if I can get a 150kg deadlift single by mid-year, I want to incorporate a cooling period where lighter weights with higher repetitions are employed. This is to preserve the body as heavy loads tax the central nervous system greatly and in due course gravity may even bring me 'down'.
Spending my money wisely. 2010 was a wallet-busting year. I tend to go on shopping blitzes and that's when my credit card will see a lot of action. This year I will rein in as much as I can, purchasing goods only when deemed necessary.
Short temper needs a kick in the arse.

Reading the latest from Anthony Bourdain (look to your right for the book's title) and a few chapters in he mentions that he thought he was the Big Daddy. He readily admits he wasn't. While he could have gone into working at highly prestigious kitchens and work with great chefs, instead, he chose to work at third- or fourth- tier establishments. It's funny that it's because of his 'poor' choices that now he is famous. One can never know for certain if a move in career is going to be the best or worst decision. This brings me nicely to the last resolution:

Take big risks.

2011 promises to be a big year. Let's see if it does. Good luck to you, too.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Work resumes tomorrow. The wheel turns again. Fuck.

2010 - A Look Back, Part 3

2010-12-26T21:30:00.000+08:00

Merry Christmas, everyone. Hope you had a blast.

Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the much-awaited, eagerly anticipated, oh-I-can't-hold-my-pee third and final post of 2010 is here. Keep holding that pee, this is going to be a while.

Me
After the tumult that happened towards the end of last year what with me ending my association with my first "real" job post 2010 was going to be the year. Yes and hell no. Yes, because people finally know me for me.

On the professional front, I no longer feel trepidation was up against senior ranked individuals, in fact, I view them as equals. When people throw flaming emails at me I don't baulk and back down, no, I throw it back, adding a little acid to burn the edges a little quicker.

Patience and anger can come together at the same time, believe you me. For instance, I don't mind looking for a parking lot during peak hours but if I see a douche taking forever to get out of the bay, I will utter certain words that if printed here would scare off nuns from Jamaica.

RM
Me is not complete without RM. Quite possibly the toughest mineral known to humankind, my RM has been the cornerstone of the success of 2010. Naturally, we have had our ups and downs but we've managed to pull through every time. And that's just our body weight. Adverse times were dealt with pouts and the deafening silence of indignation but in the end we'd overcome them with love and a small tub of green tea ice-cream.

All in all, 2010 is meaningless without her. Thank you, RM.

This was not a lacklustre year. Heck, the lustre has been pretty good (and downright pricey). What can I expect of 2011? That's another tale to be told.

Someday.

Hope your 2010 was a grand blast and here's a warm welcome to 2011.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Okay, all right, it'll be told next week. It's so hard being so well-loved by all of you.

2010 - A Look Back, Part 2

2010-12-19T20:52:00.000+08:00

First up, TRON: Legacy put me to sleep. Not even the delectable Olivia Wilde and her absurd bob could've kept me awake. Was it a bad movie? Nah. Was it good? Nah. I'll leave it at that.

As promised, here's part 2 of Chris's 2010.

Friends
I'm glad to know I can still call a few people whom I know won't hang up on me thinking I'm trying to sell them Amway. I try to leave a lasting impression (it helps when asking if they know of any vacancy somewhere) wherever I am. Glad I've made some pretty good acquaintances this year.

Fashion
Over the years, I've always maintained to be a rugged individual. A man's man. A shorts and tee guy. Give me a suit and I'll give it back to you. My Caribbean-inspired shirt will rock the house down. Urm. Yo.

Not anymore.

Gone are the vagabond stylings of my past. In comes designer articles that could feed entire villages for a week. And that's just the belts. There are some things I think I will graduate to in a long time to come:

Undies
Socks
Ties
Handkerchiefs
Combs

I added the last one just to make it a 5-numbered list because 5-numbered lists look cool. Right?

Hobbies/Likes/Being a dude
Basically, this is me being a dude. I guess the most significant hobby/like/whatever of the year has to be horology or to be more precise, watches. I still know no nuts about a lot of things but I'm slowly becoming more knowledgeable. Or at the very least, not so dumb-sounding when up against seasoned watcheroos.

Next week will be the third and final 2010 retrospective. In the meantime, stay naughty.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Santa doesn't exist. Ho. Ho. Ho.

2010 - A Look Back, Part 1

2010-12-12T21:46:00.000+08:00

It's been a good year.

Because I don't really remember 2009 nor the one before that. 2007 and before? I went through all of that? I must've coasted by those years because the memory sure is fuzzy right now. In all seriousness, this year has been a good one. So starting with this entry I'm going to recap (to the best of my recollection, naturally) various aspects and events of what has transpired the last 12 months. In no particular order except what came to mind first:

Work
I've changed two positions this year. The first was a highly promising and exciting post that made transformed me from a lackey doing support work to a big-time Charlie undergoing projects and helping to sell the company. Could it have gotten better?

They told me all of that after I resigned.

Then the second opportunity came and immediately I was taken by the prospect of being the boss. Who could say no to that, right? Turns out I was going to be the boss, the lackey and general garbage collector. Did I hit the jackpot? You bet your Irish bailout money I am.

Truth be told, there was a tiny chance of striking it the third time.

Final judgement to come next year. Stay tuned.

Food
Angus beef? Absolutely and delightfully delicious. Wagyu beef? Wow. Who knew cow fat could taste so good and make me, the Phil Heath-wannabe, eat it knowing it packs an enormous amount of calories? Or what about having balaclava in Melbourne, thinking its name is cool but it's sweeter than eating a spoonful of sugar? Those are some of the firsts of mine and certainly won't be the last time. I've become more open and ready to eat and try anything at least once in my life.

It's been a wonderful gastronomical ride and I can't wait to sample more.

Though, I think I'd rather down a spoonful of sugar than have another go at balaclava.

Music
The current most liked song is Linkin Park's Waiting for the End. A week ago if you told me that I would've taken a spatula and hit you on the head 3 times and wish for a new spatula. Have I gone to the dark side? Or is this precursor to something more sinister?

Fuck no.

I guess I'm slowly starting to be more receptive to other genres besides my beloved heavy metal. I've always been open but I find that I no longer am excited by the latest br00tal as heck death metal band who can play at 260bpm in every damn song.

What's next? Justin Bieber? Kill me if that ever happens!

Training
As you most of you know, I am a gym freak. From being a lard of tub to a tub of hot, the past year has been a brutal year. But having said that I reckon I still am about a year or so from achieving my ultimate goal. I've accomplished two things this year: 110kg deadlift and 300kg leg press. Not bad for a guy who couldn't walk properly 3 years ago.

Look out for part 2 next week where I will discuss friends, fashion and what's it like to be a ballet dancer.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Note to self, no tutus next year.

Honestly? Don't be too honest.

2010-12-05T22:16:00.000+08:00

I won't lie to you. I'm a really nice person once you get to know me.

All right, all right, another lie but a soft one.

I'm not a totally honest person. There have been times when my frankness in some situations have let me down, I admit. I can be brutally honest when it comes to criticising certain things, people's way of going about their business, people's parking skills ("WTF! Argh! C'mon, asshole, I need to pee!), people's way of doing their work ("WTF! I told him to stop the system not kill it!").

At work, it's better to be upfront right from the get-go when you've erred so that it can be rectified soon without it descending into a potential bureaucratic nightmare more so if you've got a lead that kowtows at every damn whimsical request. But when the matter is close to heart they are tougher because it involves emotions that if you were to let it loose in the boardroom might cost you that pair of Bally shoes you've been eyeing.

It kills me every bloody time someone says they are the most honest person yet when honesty comes by their way they'll get into defensive mode and start the pointing accusatory finger you of being unfair, like you've stolen their teddybear away, threatening to disembowel it of its cotton insides. This are insecure individuals that masquerade behind their persona of no-nonsense when their sense if full of non. Yes, if you can decipher what I've just said then you are definitely brighter than me.

I appreciate honesty, I really do. It's good to know your mistakes or how you've been to others as it will improve relations and makes one a better person. But if the honest remark is borne out of something you have a personal vendetta against and you tell me you don't like it? Shove it. Shove it where the sun doesn't shine and if still does it, shove it some more. There comes a time when shutting your mouth is the best possible thing you could do.

Sometimes lying is the best form of honesty.

P.S. It'd be darn great if you could read people's faces and their body language just like how Tim Roth does it in Lie to Me. It sure is a useful talent when playing poker, that's for sure. Po-po-po-ker face, anyone?

P.P.S Upon completion of this post I realised that this can be related to Wikileaks. The same as above applies. It's just better to not know.

Crotch-22

2010-11-28T22:11:00.001+08:00

LCCT sucks.

The country's Low Cost Carrier Terminal has been a blessing from the skies, pun intended, for a lot of people who never thought they could fly to China so many times within 6 months.

The thing about it is that it takes the Low Cost part and translates it to Low Mentality. From the way in which the public transport is setup to the way it looks, the low part of the name is taken rather seriously. The same also somewhat applies to security. The whole experience feels like I'm in a South American prison; line up, environment around me is dim and dank, reach counter and girl behind counter is about as polite as a rat entering your home at 0339, then boarding into a plane vast enough for a sheet of glass to pass through. Of course, I'd have to go through security. First, I get screened. Then, it beeps. Without any consent or words for that matter, I am pulled to the side, get frisked rapidly by a pimply, sweaty-smelling young man and I'm on my way. Duration? 8 seconds. I think. Was my dignity damaged? No. Did I feel violated? No. I don't give it much thought because if I did, I wouldn't be flying in the first place.

It's a necessary evil. But compare it to what the Yanks have to go through with their innocuous-sounding TSA (Transportation Security Administration) ours seems like a damp squid. The TSA has been getting a lot of coverage lately especially after the tragic events of 9/11 where security became the sacred word. New measures have taken place with regards to security and I'm pretty sure you know what they are. Everything is scrutinised when you fly.

I've been reading a fair amount of personal accounts of the TSA and it did bother me slightly. Being Asian, touching others' skin makes me uncomfortable. When I'm in the train even a slight brush with open skin delivers a tiny quiver. So I took that feeling and multiplied it by a thousand-fold to imagine what the people had gone through. Pleasant can never be associated with it.

Now we have "enhanced pat downs" which sound absolutely dirty. It's like an old perverted man with a stronger dose of Viagra. Guess what? I can now touch your crotch and then some. All this because a boy with terrorist links decided to have his butt be the centre point of an explosive plane ride. (I've always known that my underwear had special powers but it stopped short at being explosive.) Bras and underwear? I've to check them, sir/miss. Oh, what's this? Ah, genitals only. Next! That's what you get if you don't choose door number one: indeterminate level of radiation to x-ray your clothes and then voila! a nice picture of your supple body in all its naked glory.

The furore has divided everyone, even the old lady who had her boobs pointing upwards back in the day but are now in danger of mopping the floor, doesn't feel all too thrilled knowing a young girl with ponytails is going to grope her for dangerous items. Yes, the only dangerous thing is her having a heart attack. There are stories from the TSA officers themselves. Sounds pitiful, I admit. But do they deserve it? Think about this: if you hate your job, quit. I for one believe that if the job sucks, quit. If you wake up with hatred towards your cereal in the morning before you go to work, quit. Yes, the American economy is in the dumps right now but you complaining about how nasty touching or viewing scrotums and vaginas all day doesn't make for compelling cases for sympathy. In fact, it's tantamount to stupidity. Stay and be subjected to virulent name-calling, snide jibes from friends and knowing that you have to do what you've been told to or you can leave and nobody will look down on you.

It's a very fine line that's being tread on now. If you don't the checks and if something happens you can bet your x-rayed arse that the TSA will be pilloried to no end. For adults, I think we have to just bite our lips and hope it gets done promptly with no issues. But I don't agree that you have to frisk children and old folk with the same fervour. It demeans them. Yes, I know, looks can be deceiving, but, really? C'mon, this isn't Gitmo, it's an airport.

If I were in their position, I'd just comply with it. Not because I'm subservient or I don't know my rights, I just comply because I just want to get to my destination and that's that. If someone wants to feel me up, go right ahead. Want to wank to my pert Asian tush? Wank away! It'll be great if they could review the processes and fine tune them to be less invasive instead of saying, hey, let's shove this camera down their throats to be extra cautious. Security isn't meant to strike fear into people. When that happens, the terrorists have indeed won.

LCCT doesn't seem that sucky after all.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I wouldn't mind wearing armoured undies. Happy flying all!

Forgive and forget. Who came up with this crap?

2010-11-21T21:32:00.002+08:00

When someone does you wrong, what do you want? Will an apology suffice? How about a simple yet profound word, sorry? Will that right the wrong?

What happens if the wrongdoer is someone you hold dear to your heart?

Forgiving someone is a noble act indeed. What about forgetting the incident? Are you capable of purging the offending memory from heart and soul? So many questions, so many different answers. If you're a happy-go-lucky person, you'd just shrug your shoulders and move on. If you are one of those people that don't shrug shoulders but just do an Eeyore, you are holy. Or are you the type that hold grudges, only letting go when divine retribution has been mete out to the person who made you cry?

As I get older (and impossibly handsomer), I no longer am bothered by things that would have sent me into bloodlust. I look at the situation, assess its causality threads and hammer a decisive nail into the coffin of consequence. Sometimes, a surreptitious uttering of fuckinguglydonkey in the general direction of said mammal will put the world back on its axis.

The verdict depends on the crime. Cross me lightly, I'd drop it then and there. No point even reminiscing it. Do me wrongly badly, we have a issue here. If malice was part of the plan then we need to talk it out. Face to face. No hiding behind the keyboard. I think people are becoming less and less responsible and seriously lacking a ball or two.

A good friend of mine once said to me, "Why are you apologising? We're friends and friends don't say sorry to each other." To which I replied, "Fuck you, just accept my apology, damnit." Just because we're friends doesn't mean thank you, sorry or whatever should be omitted. Things like that should never be a tacit agreement, they should be used when they have to be used. With family we tend to take for granted those words. It's like a thorn in our side if we have to say sorry to them. But we have to. It's the right thing to do. Say it and move forward.

Forgive and forget is over-rated.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Emma Watson in HP7 made me wish I had a wand. Wait, I think I do...

P.P.S Apologies for the change in design again. The last one made my PC dribble like an incontinent cat in heat. Let's just forgive and forget?

I do it because.

2010-11-13T22:29:00.000+08:00

But, it really sucks doing it.

Here I am, 945PM the clock shows. It's a Saturday night. A friggin' Saturday night. I'm behind two computers, yes, one for this blog and the other is for work. Work on a Saturday night? Blimey!

This shouldn't be that surprising to those working in my line. It's not uncommon for system administrators to perform their work when all are out partying or stuffing their silly faces with pastries. This is necessary to avoid you, yes, YOU, the person who is out partying or maybe stuffing your face with a silly pastry from making a complaint as to why you can't seem to key in your timesheet when you really should have done so on Friday.

I don't complain. Much. It's part of the job. I do it because I have to. Do I want to?

I'm still here.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Harry Potter next week! Emma Watson, wait for me!

What goes fast, faster and FASTER?

2010-11-08T13:52:00.001+08:00

The day was tiring. And I didn't even do anything. Funny, eh? You're more tired doing nothing. I guess that's what happens when you're bored and lazy at work. My mind was a blur of thoughts during the journey home. Where am I heading to in my career? Things have slowed considerably the last few months. I no longer look forward to going to work. But that's another story altogether. I just wanted to get home, eat my mom's food and sleep.

I start the car as usual, came out of the parking bay, and with rapt attention maneuver the car through the haphazardly parked cars. There's a hill that's on the way home so I press on the accelerator harder but the response was about as exciting as a tepid jolt from an electric eel. Homeward bound, I thought of nothing else. The car moved slowly up the hill. Usual stuff since it came back from the nearby mechanic's some time ago. Once we cleared the apex of the hill, I took my foot off the accelerator, as I usually do when descending this hill. A weird feeling came to me, this is really odd, my foot's off the accelerator but is the car, what in the world?, accelerating?

What followed next was probably the most surreal driving experience as the car was speeding up on the highway. I did my best to keep things under control, breaking now and then to slow down the car (it's an automatic), and telling my sisters that everything's under control. I've always said that there's no point in having panicky people so it was quite a challenge to keep the car from not hitting the front car whilst telling them it's just a minor problem. For 8 minutes I tried to find a way to stop the car in the safest way possible. As we approached our neighbouring housing area I quickly made the decision to stop the car at the side of the road. Relief came all over me. Danger had been averted. Though, it could have been so much different if it weren't for the calmness of everyone.

The car's all right now, we had it repaired the next day. It wasn't a near-death type of experience (it nearly became a inside a ditch type of experience) but it could have easily been if it weren't for the subconscious mind. I thought of a lot things; keeping the car steady, the safety of my sisters, other motorists, our car, my mom, my RM, my life, the car's repair bill, it all came to me in one go. The mind is truly capable of a lot of things. I'm glad it thought of the right things at the right time.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. In other, happier news, Liverpool beat Chelsea!

Life, as we know it.

2010-11-01T13:49:00.001+08:00

I reckon Katherine Heigl should really play other types of roles other than being the atypical ditzy blonde who just wants to be loved.

It was fun the first time around. Now, not so. Why? Because this is the 53rd time. Find another role already.

Her latest cinematic jaunt, Life As We Know It, sees her playing a hot blonde who can't seem to get a decent date who along with Josh Duhamel have been entrusted with taking care of their best pals' daughter after they perish in a fatal accident. Their first reaction was to offload the child to a relative which was a pointless exercise since the parents were the only decent human beings in the family. The relatives? Losers. Heigl and Duhamel now have to set aside their mutual dislike for each other for the sake of the little cretin. In due time, they fall for each other, yet, smother their feelings. For the baby's sake, of course. Then by the 100th minute, they admit to each other and voila!

Instant family created.

If only life was that easy. What struck me about this movie was that the baby was not the central figure, it was the couple's bumbling attempt at raising the girl and eventually falling in love. Sure, they did things for the girl but she was made to be an accessory rather than being the driving factor in the grand scheme of things. But, then again, this is popcorn fare, not an indie drama that would've probably left me in tears.

Contrary to popular belief, I love children. Abhorrence is reserved for those I find vexatious or resemble little trolls. It made me think of the day I become a parent and nominating my closest, most trustworthy pal to be the godfather of my child. (Man, he's going to flip when he finds out.) As for me, if I'm made godfather, I'd be honoured, too. In fact, I can imagine these things:

Shock. Yes, I'd be shocked and speechless.
Disbelief. Me? ME?
Fear. Will I be a great godfather? Oh, shit, I hope I don't drop the baby.
Like. Will I even like the baby? What happens if it looks like a troll? (No disrespect to the parents but some children have turned out looking...different.)

But the movie raises one important question: raising a child is one thing, but someone else's? Your best pal's one and only child? In the movie, the two protagonists take little Sophie under their care because they are indebted to parents because the parents helped them. Sounds like repaying a favour, doesn't it? In all honesty, I don't know what I would do if I were in that situation. My concern is how am I going to love a child that's not mine. For the life of me, I don't see how I ever could.

Life, as we know it, is never easy.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. It was an all right. Red was all right as well. Helen Mirren with a giant machinegun is a sight to behold, indeed.

Home is where the heart is.

2010-10-23T22:38:00.000+08:00

For some, an 8-hour flight can be quite a daunting challenge, more so if it's on AirAsia. Highly notorious as it is famous, the low-cost airline is now making travelling, especially for Asians, a less pricey affair. A caveat: with cheaper prices come cheap seats (them seats were hard as bricks, indeed).

But I didn't see it as a challenge. I saw it as a necessary measure to get to my destination. Being with my RM throughout the journey made it so much easier. Especially 8 hours on me delicate tush.

Coming home from Melbourne after spending four days of unpredictable weather (I adore the cold), rows upon rows of sumptuous fresh food (chicken souvlaki!) and experiencing the niceness of the people to stiflingly hot-like-hell weather, unappetising fare that's about as fresh as last month's socks topped with the cream of the crop of the most inept customer service really got on my nerves. People here just don't know how to treat their customers. But the thing I took away from the trip was something I thought I'd never say:

Melbourne's my kind of place.

For the longest time, I've always had an aversion to Australia. This stemmed from the fact that I grew up hearing horror stories of constant racism and oppression of Asians. Things have changed a whole lot as Asians are no longer perceived as the enemy. Maybe there are a few quarters that bear a grudge but things are looking better for Asians in Australia, especially Melbourne. It is said that Melbourne is cultural capital of Australia and also the most family oriented. I find it not surprising that Asians strive here and strive pretty good from what I can see. Yet, there wasn't any air of discontent, not even a whiff of it.

Over there, people saw each other as people, not by race.

Everywhere, Asians can be seen, even in little housing areas outside of the city. It's the sign of the times, folks. Heck, minutes upon reaching the CBD (Central Business District), I swear I heard a couple of Malaysian colloquialisms. It has to be said that Asians with a predilection for hairstyles that resemble certain poisonous fungi coupled with silly clothing will bring their motherland's culture wherever they are (blond(e) makes Asians look like cheap products, by the way). It is a microcosm that is unhealthy, to be honest. It's the same everywhere; I see Koreans and Chinese here thinking it's their homeland albeit with browner folks. These are privileged people yet their only concern is what am I going to eat this kimchi I got from grandma with. I would miss my hometown, no denying there, but to be in another person's country and replicating everything back home is rude, tantamount to insult even.

But not all are as myopic or close-minded as the above. The people of various ethnicities have a vice-like grip on their roots, akin to the most stubborn of barnacles, yet, they embrace their adopted homeland's generosity and warmth wholeheartedly, without question or fuss. It's something that is truly remarkable. These people were not told to do so, they just knew what needed to be done and they did it. I really felt the warmth of the people as my welfare was taken care of with genuine feelings. Back home after just one day, I had derisive looks from my country's ethnic majority just because I was the only one of my race at the train station. And these were from teenagers. Teenagers that have no clue as to what their actions will lead them to. I pity them for they have no future that is of any consequence. Their attitude towards me has left me questioning the government's efforts in promoting racial harmony.

How come I felt more welcomed in a country that's a couple of thousand miles from my own?

Now that the country I call home is not what it seems, I'm beginning to wonder, where do I belong? I know it's with family but does the location matter? I've mentioned that we are way off the pace set by Singapore, what more countries like Australia? When RM's friends asked how is Malaysia, I had an extremely tough time trying to come up with something profound, something pertinent, but all I could muster from a tiny rictus of my mouth and said, "Well, we have KLCC." Can you imagine the quiet shame I endured by mentioning the former tallest building in the world as the thing to see when one is in Malaysia? When people visit a country, it should always be about the country's history and its natural offerings, never its artificial attributes.

Going to Melbourne has made me realise how much I am of an outsider in my own country. What with the direction it is taking, it angers and saddens me that in 2010 we are still so far behind in a lot of things. It is a pity that while others have moved forward we are still in a quagmire of our own doing. We may think we are advanced but we are not. We are so wrong.

Crime is still rampant here. I mentioned in my last post that I walked in a park at 3PM and saw families? Well, I walked in a park with 2 other girls. At night. No other soul could be seen. I felt safe and not once did I think my safety or of the two girls were at stake. How can I raise my family here knowing I can't even go to the damn park for fear of thieves and murderers lurking behind some bush. Shops closed at 5PM and while it gave me and RM a culture shock, when we found out that reason was so that people can spend more time with their families, I thought to myself, this is incredible. While it's a bit of a hassle if need new undies at 6PM but putting family above others is something I can only dream about. Malaysia giving such flexibility? Pfft. Not going to happen. It's like saying the races will get equal opportunity.

Dream on, Malaysians!

I hope and pray that one day that we can achieve what others have but it may not happen in my lifetime. I thought I'd never say this but spending the rest of my life in Melbourne or somewhere else for that matter doesn't seem to scare me anymore.

Damn, I really do miss the chicken souvlaki.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I've never used so much of never in a post. Never.

I'll be seeing you later, mate.

2010-10-19T13:46:00.001+08:00

The skin on my face still resembles an albino rabbit's bum. Pink. Beads of sweat trickle down the side of my face where only a day ago I was trying to find a thicker jacket to fight against the cold of morning. Hands feel clammy as I type this. Funny, two days ago I couldn't feel the fingers attached to them when I was out in the city, on a chilly, windy, rainy afternoon. When I walk out I smell cat poo and rubbish. I miss the cool breeze, the crisp zephyr, its freshness a welcome sensation.

I hate to say this, and I really do hate it, but I miss Melbourne.

4 days in the capital of Victoria, whilst an absolute drain on the bank account, was a fulfilling and rewarding experience. Not to mention it was also a much deserved break from the gruelling hours at ~~torture~~ work. Even a week would barely cover the city's offerings but me and RM did our darndest best to canvas the surroundings, from main roads to little lanes with their hole in the wall restaurants. As each turn becomes more familiar the more enchanting it became. Collins Street with its sibling, the aptly named, Little Collins Street, charmed us with their modern and chic boutiques, the solemn-looking Victorian era buildings providing a certain majestic quality to proceedings. We were thoroughly enamoured with Degraves St and its busy yet quaint eateries that were packed to the brim with hungry patrons.

Love immediately befell onto Queen Victoria Market. Remember that dank, constantly foetid wet market that you hated going to but you needed lamb for your roast? You won't find it here. Clean is an understatement. Fresh doesn't even cut it. The meats and seafood were so fresh that any fresher you had to kill it yourself. Walk on over to the other side and you'll find yourself in the gourmet section where cheeses and sausages of any flavour are sold. African spices mingled with the aromatics of coffee and tea perfumed the air. Want a taste of the food? Just ask and you'll get a morsel with genuine smiles unlike here where if you asked to try a tiny piece of food you'll be met with a smile that wants to poison you and leave you with gangrene on your ears.

Melbourne Zoo was all right as it rained the entire duration we were there. Wait, it rained the entire day. For the first time, I felt what it means to be cold. I did not show it but it was there. I'm finding zoos to be sad institutions where animals are no longer free to be. When you see a bear going in circles you know it isn't right. However, zoos are a necessary evil as it's the one place where children will be exposed to the plight of the animals. If 1 out of 100000 manages to see this truth then it's good enough. And, folks, if you don't see gorillas in the open then just head to the food preparation area and sure enough you'll be greeted by one. A ginormous silverback sitting at the edge of the room, staring at you like some insignificant fly. Melbourne Aquarium was a lacklustre jaunt that had penguins crapping all over the artificial snow and seeing giant stingrays.

The picture doesn't do this handsome fellow any justice. It was really freaking huge.

Have I forgotten about the food? Of course not, mate! We tried as much to not repeat a cuisine and we somewhat succeeded. Gourmet sandwiches here in Malaysia represent our best offerings with choice selections of fillings. Over there they're just sandwiches. But they taste fantastic. RM had the best lamb souvlaki ever. Greek baklava while gorgeous to look at was hellish to eat as it was the sweetest thing I've ever eaten. We had Korean barbecue that had the best-tasting beef and pork you could find anywhere. Here's a tip: never order Japanese food cooked by Hong Kong people at place called Monkey Bar near the Melbourne Aquarium. I also had the best Italian food, eating Papa Gino's pizza. It was so good the old man beside us had his carbonara dribbling all over his face.

Green tea. And larvae?

Albert Park is where I think I would spend a lot of time if I were there. The park was simply amazing, be it for jogging or taking your family out for a stroll. The thing I loved the most was that people were out in the park most of the time on Sunday. Can you imagine going to the park in KL at 3pm? You'd be baked alive and not to mention you and your family would be a target of thieves. This goes to show the forward thinking of the Australian government and its respective states handling of their own areas.

It was sad when we were packing our things. Even though we were there only 4 days it was the most satisfying 4 days of 2010. We will never forget how the people and their kindness* they showed to the two of us. This was our first trip and it's certainly not the last.

G'day, mate!

This is Chris, signing off.

* - Thanks be to the old woman who gave us 5AUSD for tram ride to the zoo. Bless her soul.

P.S. This is just the holiday recap of the trip. Please check back soon as I'll be writing about my real thoughts of the trip.

You're the top dog. So stop acting like a pussy.

2010-10-09T21:46:00.000+08:00

Being a leader is a thankless responsibility.

When things go well, everyone's happy. When shit hits the fan, the shit hits the leader (and, possibly, the fan if the shit is heavy enough). The leader is the first in and the last out. While the rest of the team get to go back right on the dot, the leader stays back and makes sure things are running fine. It's a thankless responsibility, all right, but people respect you when you say you're the one in charge.

Or do they?

Respect is never given, it is always earned. This is a never truer statement when it comes to being a leader. I will only be impressed if the person has really done something remarkable. If one climbs up the ladder the conventional way, good for them. But if one uses kiss ass tactics by being a sycophant then do you deserve respect?

No!

Though, never kissing ass to go up the ladder is about as rare as finding a sober Lindsay Lohan. Deep down, there is always an ulterior motive; you want an increment, an improved job title (to impress your classmates), to be given choice pickings when it comes to work. There is also always an element of wanting to appease your leader; kind of an implicit I scratch your back, you give me bonus deal. You hope to gain their trust so that you can get a promotion and get the heck out of there to become a leader at another place. If you're contented with how things are going then more power to you. I am not one to rest on my laurels (I don't even know where they're at). I want to be the boss and I believe I have what it takes. After being led by leaders with distinctive styles of leadership, I can safely say I will try as much to not fall into the typical leader pitfalls. But that's a pipe dream. When you're a leader of a team, you have to appease your team and your superior. Therein lies problems, awaiting to be unravelled, to test your resolve. Do well, you win, onto the next battle. Fuck up, the entire office will know about it.

Sounds like mad fun, right?

There comes a time when the best offense is more offense. Certain leaders will employ the I-go-above-you-by-going-to-your-leader's-head tactic. This tells me one thing, you have no balls (also applies to women because a vagina doesn't exactly equate to braveness*). Non-confrontational behaviour in leaders is wimpy. When someone impugns your capabilities and that of your team, you don't back down and say sorry (I know sorry is cheap but don't use it to cheapen yourself), you rip their faces apart. Show them that that you're no pushover. Of course, if your team did commit an irrefutably bad snafu then by all means rip their faces instead. Worse is when people start pointing their chubby fingers, demand for an explanation, yet when it's presented to them they don't accept it. So what do you do, top dog? Do you back down, become a pussy or do you do the right thing?

A leader does not smile when his authority is being undermined, he gets up and rises to the challenge.

Boss, if you're reading this, this isn't meant for you.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Don't you just hate it when someone who is odious, contemptible and you know isn't right for the job, gets the job?

* - Or, does it?

Daddy, where did I come from? Ebay.

2010-10-03T21:42:00.001+08:00

What will you tell your children when they want to know, you know, where or how they were manufactured*? Do you answer them truthfully ("well, it was on a rather hot night, so...") or do you look at them sternly (to cover up your inability to explain) and tell them it's bed time? Or if you're balls are in a knot, go ask mommy.

Sex has never been talked about so freely than ever before these days. TV shows in the past would just insinuate sex. There'll be lots of raised eyebrows, maybe a chorus or a simple bridge of public outcry. But now things are more liberal, some shows are full-blown (I am going to pun when I don't intend to pun) to the point of showing nearly everything. Edgy programming? A sign of the times? Or a ploy to draw in the ratings? Whatever it is, it's making sex seem as ordinary as Manchester United drawing games when they should've won easily. Don't get me wrong, it's still taboo but no one shields their eyes away whenever there's a kissing scene. In fact, censorship of kissing scenes is viewed as archaic, such scenes snipped by old men who pop Viagra every so often for, you know, health.

Growing up, I discovered marriage, babies and sex all by myself. All of that came from, ironically, from watching TV and movies. It never shocked me that I didn't come via a packaged deal carried by near extinct storks. When I found out that babies came as a result of some ahem action it just settled in me. Many of my peers went through the same, I'm sure of it. I guess my time didn't necessitate the talk because we were allowed to grow up and find things out ourselves. It also helped that information wasn't exactly readily available as certain things required the usage of a library or the legendary media format, VHS. But things have changed. A whole friggin' lot more. It surprises me that my little cousins know so many things including them topics but are nonchalant about it, almost not caring about it, preferring to blast aliens on the PS3. Good for me, I don't want to explain the meaning of holes and prevention to them when I'm buying them ice cream.

Sex education, to me, should be done by the parents because our tutors will deliver the subject in a robotic manner, failing to understand that it should be dealt with, pardon the pun, by injecting life, to proceedings. At what age is it appropriate? There is no such thing. There's only ever an appropriate time. When your child exudes intelligence then there's your cue. Just don't do it before an episode of Desperate Housewives. Also, children tend to believe what the tutors tell them and when you try to explain things they'll snort, that's not what Mr. Contraceptive said. What tutors should do is to compliment proceedings by further explaining it in a more scientific way. Leave the human aspects (read: horny tendencies) to the parents. It's also a good tool to freak out the children and stop them, for the time being, of delving head on into, you know, stuff.

Sex education doesn't have to be dirty. I think it's very important that parents speak to their children and be open about it (not spread eagle, no). A child's curiosity knows no bounds. So don't be surprised or feign shock when it happens because what are you, stupid? You and the missus did do some pretty hot stuff on a rather hot night.

Right?

This is Chris, signing off.

* - This the iPod generation, you think they will know words like conceived?

P.S. If you're wondering what I would do? I'll make some tea, get the children all comfy and tucked, then tell them what I found out when I was their age. "You see, there are birds and there are bees..."

The biggest loosah will be BIG.

2010-09-25T23:02:00.000+08:00

Watching TV these days is a tedious affair. Shows of yesteryear were witty without trying hard, edgy but still conservative enough so that your parents and you can watch through an uncomfortable scene together, but most importantly, they were good simply because they were done with real passion. Now shows just want to hit you with wave after wave of in-your-face skits where you'll gasp, close your mouth, say OMG a bazillion times, then nod your head in utter agreement.

"Reality" shows are in a lone category; it's called scripted (hence the cleverly-placed quotes). In the beginning it probably would've been real but now not so. Things are predictable, you just know things will pan out a certain way; the vampy skank will sleep with the good boy who will then feel guilty and tell his girlfriend, break-up ensues = more drama OMG!

There won't be any vampy skanks or naive good boys in this show, though. No, you're going to get lots of skin. But not the kind you think you know. Or that kind. Or want to think. The Biggest Loser Asia (The B.L.A) has just kicked off its second season with a big splash (caused by a single person, I kid you not) by being bigger (I'm on a roll!) and smarter than before. So what's my verdict? After watching just half of the show (I wanted to watch something else*) I reckon I have a fairly good idea of the tone for this season. I will try to recap what I saw, I can't promise verbatim but I'll give you the gist of it. You know, the big picture.

The start of the show sees the trainers, a fit as heck Aussie chick and a horse jockey (what, he's pretty darn slim and slender), who will be screening potential Losers. They visit 5 South-East Asian countries and screen various people of varied shapes and sizes (nope, not going to make this even remotely witty). Part of the screening involved getting to know the people, much like American Idol without the clinically insane. What I don't get is the Aussie trainer's predilection for asking potential contestants to do jump squats. She does know that people of a portly disposition will exert more pressure on their spine by doing such exercises?

The people who attended were rather mild mannered, and frankly, have characteristics of a sausage. There's this guy from Jakarta who says whenever I put my mind on something, I will make it happen. Funny, still fat. A black woman who came via Hong Kong blames (more or less) her dead brother for her weight gain while a Thai woman said some things but there was too much tom yam in the ~~mix~~ speech. The Singaporeans have rather strong Singaporean accents (that's just the Chinese, the rest have it stronger) but as usual fall flat with textbook kiasu personalities (yeah, Malaysia vs Singapore proudness still alive, yo!).

16 hopefuls were chosen and here we go. The contestants were made to perform their first challenge immediately after arriving at their base of operations. Guess who made a fuss first? A Malaysian, naturally (!). But who will be their host, their own Ryan Seacrest, the person that will be their bridge to the outside. We have been graced by the one and only Marion "Look at me I'm just as epileptic as Giuliana Rancic" Caunter. I swear, her movements are a carbon-copy of Giuliana's, right down to the E.T. smile and seizure-like gestures. She is an imitator; not a single presentation skill of hers feels natural. And instead of wearing a track suit to support the contestants, she wears a shoulderless dress that really smacks the faces of the people running about.

I wonder why some of these say they have the willpower of giants yet are dwarfed when faced with a 5lbs pink dumbbbell. I used to be a chubster myself. I was the fat guy in the group. Incessant teasing about weight was dished out (see, I pun when I don't even realise it) constantly to my face. I hurt. I never wanted to be out of breath after running a minute or be rejected because I wear 38-inch trousers. But I've turned my body the other way round all by myself. I guess some people need more motivation than others. The show has me divided: on one hand, I commend and salute the contestants for braving themselves and baring their all to the world. I am not a fan of the methods employed, though; tough love and brutal exercises don't gel with me.

The keys to losing weight: diet, exercise and, most important of all, discipline. All must be adhered to otherwise you will fall by wayside. Stop thinking that just one slice of cake, another glass of Coke and you're on the treadmill the next will be enough because it isn't. You are cheating yourself. When you cheat yourself, then you deserve to be in the rut you put yourself in. Once you've schooled yourself properly then you can allow yourself the occasional pancake slathered with jam. I can understand the hopefulness of this show. It really does want to help people. Anyone who wants to lead a healthy lifestyle gets a good pat on the back from me.

Pass me another biscuit, please. I'm famished...

Joking!

This is Chris, signing off.

* - Chelsea LOST!!!

P.S. All the best to the contestants. I really do wish them good luck. Marion, please, please, please stop aping Giuliana. You are tremendously terrible.

He. He. He.

2010-09-20T09:39:00.000+08:00

Credit to the person who created this. This is just utter brilliance.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Berba's second goal was just sublime. Pure class. Champion.

You've got the bag. But you've not got the class.

2010-09-12T22:19:00.000+08:00

The woman with the big, bright red Louis Vuitton bag was looking at a book. A book for children. About snakes. Its cover was that of a cartoon snake that resembled the snake from the Jungle Book. Why would she pick that book out of a thousand others remains a mystery. Her child took one look and ran away.

Then she yelled in Mandarin. It voice was piercing, like two cats quarreling at night over who gets the little dead rat. Her child came towards her, yelled back, mom grabbed his arm, more yelling and off they went. They continued to talk at the top of their lungs. My inability to understand Mandarin came in handy after all. But the annoying decibels coming out of their mouths was grating all the same.

The sudden increase in the middle class has given rise of the wannabes from every imaginable nook and cranny, specifically the Chinese race. It is used to be that the Chinese would adopt English names, mispronounce it and look all smarmy about it. Then it morphed to creating names by combining existing names or changing the spelling of it. Still mispronouncing it, though. Then, as luxury brands started asserting themselves in the market, the Chinese took to them like vultures to a dead horse.

So take those two things and you have the new breed of Chinesedom: Chinese-er. Yes, I made that up. Imagine, if you will, a Chinese person who is more Chinese than ever. It's funny that as the world is becoming more accessible the Chinese as a whole are regressing. Yes, they embrace Western culture with open arms that haven't been shaved in ages yet they have not a clue to differentiating the two. They take what they see, if attractive, keep, throw the rest. It is precisely this reckless abandonment of the senses that bewilders me.

The thinking hasn't matured much, they equate luxury as the benchmark they have to live up to. It would be a travesty if they didn't keep up with the Chans. Immature thoughts of beauty still taints their minds, big eyes and pasty-white skin is beautiful. If a girl is not stick thin, then they're fat (chubby doesn't exist in their dictionary). Males have to have their hairs in asymmetrical styles are the norm these days. Of course, looking like your pet schnauzer makes the bond between man and pest stronger, right?

Chinese males are increasingly becoming less male and resembling their sisters. If they had any. Shudder. This androgyny is seriously starting to alarm me. Where have the real men gone to? These girly boys run on the treadmill for 20 minutes at a speed my grandma walks and they're panting for breath. Skinny jeans can be found in the drawers next to their slim fit singlets. It seems that having legs where they appear to be like chopsticks are a-okay. I used to be wary of shaking a girl's hand because my grip is firm but these pansies are worse, like flaccid carrots. Whatever happened to the likes of Chow Yuen Fatt? He was cool as can be. Now, now we have girls like Jay Chou as their inspiration.

The style here is heavily borrowed from the Taiwanese, which they borrow heavily from the Japanese whom we all know borrow massively from the West. So what we have is a style that is bastardised to high heaven. There is no identity specific to them. What they see on TV is bible to them. Music videos, or as they're called MTVs by these troglodytes, sends them into a fit, wanting to copy the style right away. I go back to the woman and her Louis Vuitton bag; it doesn't immediately make you classy, it makes you oblivious. It further proves the fact that people are sheep, powerless slaves to what the media glorifies.

Do the clothes maketh the person? Or does the person maketh the clothes?

Try telling that to the woman. I wonder what she will yell if the book was on schnauzers.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. This angry post was brought to you by a guy who doesn't wear skinny jeans. Or jeans of any kind for that matter.

The only interesting thing that happened, nothing.

2010-09-06T10:08:00.000+08:00

Please check back again. Brain under construction.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Seriously, brain under construction. For real.

To all you ignorant HK people, wake up.

2010-08-29T21:53:00.000+08:00

You can never imagine such a thing could happen to you. You think it only happens in the movies. You see it in the news and you go, oh my God, then you change the channel to something less sad. But when it happens to you, paralysis sets in quick, your heart stops and your mouth is wide open in disbelief. You just can't believe what you are seeing on the television screen. The feeling spectrum runs its gamut in you; fear, sadness, anger, vengeance. You pray and pray that things will get better. Then the rescue mission commences and you freeze in your tracks. Oh God, please save them, please.

The dust settles. Smoke is everywhere. Glass shards can be seen. When the smoke clears, you see a body lying on the ground. Lifeless. Police race towards the scene, frantic and hopeful. They quickly survey the scene, making sure that it is safe to board the vehicle. People can be seen standing up, then impatiently pushing each other to get off. Nations breathe a sigh of relief, the nightmare is over. Tears of joy run freely down reddened cheeks.

But not for you. You've just lost your loved one. Forever.

The recent tragic events of last week which occured in the Philippines has triggered an avalanche of critiques and whatnot, from the way the police handled the whole situation to how Jackie Chan is now a leper in his own country.

Yes, the Filipino police were inept. They made a lot of mistakes. This could have been prevented if only things were done properly. But this is hindsight talking and it is extremely easy to sit behind a computer typing out things like, "They should have done this. Wait, they should have done that." But to vilify and denigrate an entire nation is beyond absurd. It is embarrassing and morally wrong.

Before any of you start to conjure up ways up of disemboweling my already bloated stomach, hear this: I can't fathom what the family of the victims went through. I can only imagine and even then I would have barely skimmed the surface of your grief. However, wanting to cause harm upon innocent Filipinos for this tragedy will not bring back the dead. You are besmirching their legacy by pointing your accusatory finger when you should honour their deaths by cherishing the times they were alive.This could have happened to any a nation's people. It just so happened to be a bus full of Hong Kong tourists who came to the Philippines to have a great time yet found disaster. Do you, HK person, would give a shit if it happened to a, say, Japanese?

My sincerest condolences go out to the families who lost their kin. May they rest in peace.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I support you Jackie Chan even if your movies have been crappy lately.

When you pick up a can of tuna, spare a thought to the British girl who cleaned it.

2010-08-22T21:42:00.000+08:00

Grocery shopping is an art.

And like art, sometimes it looks like a beautiful sunset on a beautiful mountain with a beautiful significant other. Or it could look like Sarah Jessica Parker. Some people take ages thinking and slow picking the stuff they need yet end up with nothing at all. There are some who go in, know which shelves hold their fave items, take what's needed, pay and head home. Others pore over every nutritional fact of a product (that would be me) but will take the cheaper yet nutritionally suspicious alternative because it is, well, cheaper. But how many of you actually care about the product you choose to purchase, for yourself, to feed your family? Care in the sense of where it came from, how it was produced, how did it get to the supermarket. Do you take the time to research on the things you need from there?

Most of you couldn't care less even if you cared at all. And I'm just as culpable.

There's a show called Blood, Sweat and Takeaways that was shown on the Asian Food Channel not too long ago. It followed the lives of six British young 'uns who traded their comfy cushions for damp cold floor. The whole premise was simple, take six Brits with diverse backgrounds, dump them in the unsavoury areas of South-East Asia, make them go through what the locals go through just to survive and hopefully when they get back they'll be able to tell the difference between an Indonesian and a Thai. Never seen dead fish before? Here's one, go and gut it. In 5 seconds. How about decapitating prawns (shrimps for you Yanks out there)? Decapitate 100 of the little blighters in 5 minutes, don't talk while you're at it. All for a daily pay that is enough for no one let alone a family of 6.

The six have different personalities since having all six with the same characteristics would just be ennui. There's farmer boy who dives into any work with nary a complaint. Killing a chicken was as easy as lifting mud cakes weighing 20kgs. Did you say brunette? Yes, there's one. I don't remember what she does. There's the token Asian who's forgotten his roots and loves fried chicken. The necessary blonde in the show is atypical of her upbringing; that of a snooty princess who eats more processed food than my family does in a year. What's a show without a kind-hearted portly fellow who complains about complaints yet does his darndest best. Lastly, the participant that wants to change the world whilst wearing a thin blouse. Of course, there'll be one that feels the need to change the world and she'll do it. Believe me, she will and she'll make you believe in wanting to do better for the people who put rice on your plate.

Their mission was to live with the locals, do the work they do, get paid at the end of the day and ruminate on what transpired. Conditions were appalling, destitute and saddening. You really feel for the locals, not the participants, because they'll get to back whereas the locals would have to carry on. Did I feel pity for the Brits? Nope. Why should I? Did I feel bad for them? Yes. Even I wouldn't want to do what they did. What this show has also highlighted is the sheer horrid conditions the people from this part of the world are in. No proper sanitation, abominable work conditions and the lack of birth control.

The show also highlighted the plight of prostitutes in Thailand. Since the show wasn't called Blood, Sweat, Takeaways and HIV, it was a short segment yet profound in its message. Though, I'm not sure it the Brits back in the motherland would care. After all, it is them and their continental cousins who keep the flesh trade alive.

In the end, the six Brits came back with a new-found perspective on life. They all are actively campaigning to their mates that, hey, did you know that South-East Asia is not just Singapore? Guess what, all our fast food and packaged stuff are from there! I commend them for wanting to help change the mindset of their fellows.

Unfortunately, the show didn't convert me to be another crusader. But that doesn't mean I'll piss on some poor person's luck whose job was to help me have my fried cod. That's how life is. If someone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth you'll think of them as spoilt and undeserving. If someone came from some afar village and has a small room to call home you will pity them till the cows come home (not likely since the cows would have been slaughtered for burgers). Life's not fair. People at the bottom of the food chain are an important part of everyone's life. I sound harsh, right? Holier than thou complex going on as well, yes? Well, that's how it is, bub. Again, life is not fair. Somebody has to get things done.

Just count your blessings that it isn't you.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. I would have made an awful participant. I'm sure of it.

We are all Expendable.

2010-08-16T14:07:00.000+08:00

Ever get the feeling that you're just another fish in the sea? Ever felt like that the work you do every single day is only appreciated by you? Ever experienced the sensation where your mouth is going sideways and you start to sound like Sylvester Stallone?

Scrap the last one. The first two are felt by most sitting behind a computer, work 10-hour days and eat fried food of the unsavoury kind during tea-time. I've always maintained that it is the little people make a company. Without us, higher management and other ass-lickers would not be able to sign off on lucrative bonuses for themselves. But they're the same as us little people, expendable. This brilliantly segues into the next paragraph.

The Expendables is a throwback to a time where the action was bigger than Mexico and it reigned supreme above all. The action heroes had improbable physiques and had monikers only a B-movie actor would have. The women were eye candy and of the variety where they will kick a baddie in the balls in lace nighties that have slits up to their cheeks. The storyline goes from point A-to-Z by skipping the rest of the alphabets. The script is limited to snarls and one-liners that sound cool but leaves you thinking wtf did I just hear? after you've left the cinema. Its attempt at highlighting the exploitation of South America was feeble and one doesn't require a PhD in physics to understand (you don't even need a high school diploma even, just basic kindergarten will suffice). The exploited General was nothing more than a puppet in the grand scheme things devised by a devious American (who else?) that only Eric Roberts could play it without looking like a fool.

But we all knew that.

I grew up on the 80's and 90's, man. Schwarzenegger, Stallone, Willis, and all the guys in the movie were my action heroes (except for Jet Li, I'm more of a Jackie Chan fanboy). Whenever I think of big guns, bigger explosions and smarmy one-liners I think of these guys. The new generation can only name wimpy punks like Taylor Lautner and other children as they're action heroes. Just like Stallone and his ragtag team of golden oldies, we are all expendable. So let's just throw caution to the wind and let it burn.

I love the movie.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Darn, Stallone still looks solid at 64.

Happy 1st. :)

2010-08-08T22:19:00.000+08:00

Happy 1st Anniversary to the greatest girl on the planet. And some other planets.

You have given me a renewed reason in wanting to be the best man I can be. Thank you for everything you have done. I will do the same for you.

Sincerely yours till the end of time. I love you.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: This was not sponsored by Hallmark.

Do well and you'll be rewarded. But not this year. Too bad you joined late, eh?

2010-07-31T21:24:00.000+08:00

Yet another P1 issue (it's my company's speak for The Shit Has Hit the Fan Big Time type of problem) arose after I had dealt with one the day before. The pressure was on. Time was of the essence. We had a 4-hour window before the first of the UK folks come in. We all know what they're like when things don't work; confused, try again, still doesn't work, agitated, log a ticket, why is this not working?, explanation given with a workaround, still not satisfied, complain, solution found, send to user for confirmation, no reply, chase for closure, close ticket after 3 reminder emails sent. Along the way, expletives flew everywhere, tempers flared, hope raised high only to be dropped like a sack of smelly potatoes after initial solution doesn't work.

The UK folks can be a bunch of fucked up pricks.

Life in the support lane is nothing but a way of making ends meet. Us support people don't get enough love. When we do well it's only us that know it. It will take a lot of good work before a pat on the back is received. But the slightest blemish will taint your reputation like blood in water. The sharks will encircle you and tear out the very flesh out of you.

Let's be realistic. We live to work. That's how we Asians are. We work late hours because going home on the dot is perceived as laziness. We also say yes when a no is the right answer. We give away far too much but receive too little in return. Our UK counterparts have low opinions of us, thinking we're not capable enough, when it is they that are not the efficient ones. They can't even get their grammar right. And why is it us that have to adjust our way of talking so that they can understand us? Some of their accents sound like they've swallowed a rat.

A job well done means a whole lot of nothing these days. So why bother?

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S. Joining a company which changed its review and increment policies a few weeks prior just plain fucking sucks.

A welcome break.

2010-07-25T21:38:00.000+08:00

It must be said that when you wear a favourite shirt your arms shouldn't feel like they're being constricted by a python. If that happens it means only one thing: your arms are big (duh!). It could be you're of the corpulent variety or it could be the product of doing heavy dumbbells curls and skull crushers. I'm in the latter category, naturally.

The same also applies to my legs, specifically my thighs. Everyone has a body part that responds well to exercise so well that even doing minimal work to them will yield results. I just need to run a flight of steps and I'm done. Built thighs that rival Beyoncé's in seconds.

Recently, I decided to take a week off from working out. (I was fully conscious of the decision I was making.) The last time I took such a lengthy break was when I injured my shoulder, which, was enforced rather than based on own volition. Prior to the break, I had been lifting pretty heavy weights, sometimes for days in a row. The reasons that necessitated the break were simple:

To ensure joint health. Lifting heavy puts an enormous amount of strain on the joints.
I was getting *gasp!!!* bored of lifting.
Muscle mass was acquired quite significantly so much so that I had trouble fitting into certain clothing items I had no problems few weeks before.
I wanted to see if I could take the break and last one week of non-activity.

It's good to take a break once in a while. It is needed to recharge the mind, body and soul (some say booty as well).This applies to anything at all, from work to relationships. Sometimes the best thing to do is take a step back, reflect on the good and bad, and see where it will take you. If something unsavoury happened, talk it out (of course, if the parties involved were either in a straight-jacket or were the Hulk incarnate that would certainly cause issues) to find out the truth. Once the dust settles then things can go back the way it was and improve from there.

I feel stronger, mentally and physically, after taking the break. Fitting into your trousers back is a wonderful feeling. And very nice on the bank account.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: The Malaysian Mega Sale is on. Yeah, with the lousiest of discounts seen. Pathetic and hopeless.

Good friends come and go. True friends remain.

2010-07-18T21:29:00.000+08:00

What's a football fan to do when there's no football on the telly?

Eat.

It's been a week since the Spanish defeated the Dutch in the just concluded World Cup. What an utter waste of time. Thankfully, I only watched the last half of the match. Sorry, the last half plus the extra bits that should not have been. Is it true the Spaniards the best team in the world? Yes and no. Yes because they are the World and Euro champions. No because they didn't beat their opponents with the utmost precision let alone conviction. The Dutch were absolutely brutal but a momentary lapse in defence saw them give away the game at the death.

But who gives a crap now, eh?

So here I am, still feeling full from ingesting 25 helpings of sashimi consisting of tuna and salmon with various side orders that ranged from deep-fried prawns to oily croquettes. My cholesterol levels have been better, that's for sure. But it was the company that made it all worthwhile. They say laughter is the best medicine, I agree, as I think that all the laughing we did helped us to somewhat curtail the saturated oils we consumed. The great thing about this group is that while 60% of us are no longer in the same office, we get along mighty fine with the other 40%, with no discomfiture experienced whenever there's a get-together. You know, sometimes when people have not seen each other in a while, they tend to get slightly edgy but that doesn't happen with this bunch. I am truly grateful that I can be a part of such company.

Sometimes you quarrel with a friend because of a disagreement. Sometimes it happens because one person does something that is hurtful to another but doesn't realise it. Sometimes friendships, even the supposed best ones, can break because of it. The most important thing to do is to talk it out. Get it out of the system and move on. The poison in you must be expunged from the soul. Then peace will come.

Just don't tell this to the Dutch.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S.: Mr Policeman, go and fark yourself.

In football, we trust.

2010-07-11T21:13:00.000+08:00

The World Cup is about to draw a close.

About fucking time.

Don't get me wrong, I love the World Cup. I love that you can use it as an excuse for a lot of things. Say, you're in a meeting, and you've got English folk in as well, you can break the ice by saying, "Go, England!" (Of course, I didn't get to say that many times, because, well, the English team didn't exactly go far enough for me to say, "Go, England!" more than once.) But it has been an absolute bore. I can only say that some games were very good but none will be remembered as classics. It's a big shame, really. Because it's the first one I've been following quite diligently in spite of its general insipidness and fanfare akin to a Malaysian concert where the people sit down and clap vigorously because if you were stand up a fat guard will tell you to sit back down.

I'm sure as hell going to miss it. But not much. EPL starts soon!

Go, Dutch, Go!

This is Chris Van Chiam, signing off.

PS: Congrats to the German team!

How do you say victory in German?

2010-07-04T20:46:00.000+08:00

4 - 0.

Have a good week, people!

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S: Finally, the World Cup ignites! Vuvuzelas be damned!

Zee Germans are here!

2010-06-27T21:21:00.000+08:00

Ja!

This World Cup is...odd.

Odd in the sense that a lot of people are following it, even those not normally associated with anything football, just for the sheer excitement of it. To say it's been a joyride is a bit of a stretch. At most, it's been all right with the Uruguay versus South Korea being the most exciting for me thus far. The rest have been tepid and apathetic.

Which brings me to what I'm going through right now. Work's been great, busier than ever and me not complaining about wanting to leave after a week. Or the next. Thankfully, I've a holiday coming up in October and the thought of it keeps me sane during trying times in the office. Life needs to be about working to live, never the other way round. Being in Malaysia, well, it ain't impossible but it's surely as hell ain't easy either.

For some strange reason, I feel like eating a really good peanut butter sandwich.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Go Germany!

And on this day...

2010-06-20T21:03:00.001+08:00

...I have nothing to say.

For the second week running, I am stumped. I had, like, 3 solid ideas for a blog post. No joke. All 3 of them were thought-provoking, profound, and bloody brilliant.

But I forgot to jot down the points thus leaving you lovely people with nothing more than a footnote of my absentmindedness.

Wish you could just do a Flashforward and see what's in store, say, in the next 6 months?

Stay healthy, people.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: This World Cup is abysmal and boring.

What's round, has loads of fans, and is called football? Ugh. It's the World Cup!

2010-06-13T21:25:00.000+08:00

Yes, folks. It is back. And it's bigger and badder.

I have nothing else to say. (Actually, I do, but I can't seem to articulate my thoughts just yet. Am just too lazy to do so this week.) Well, maybe just one thing. I have these teams vying for the ultimate prize:

Argentina
Brazil
England
Holland
Spain

Yes, I believe any one of the great nations will lift the World Cup. Call it intuition. Call it whatever you want to call it.

I'll call it wanting to recuperate my betting money!

This is Chris, kicking a Jabulani ball.

PS: USA drawing with England was a real stinker. Thank goodness I didn't wake up to watch it.

You can't always get what you want...

2010-06-06T21:50:00.002+08:00

...but if you try sometime, you'll find you get what you need.

I consider myself a headstrong person when it comes to keeping a tight rein in on my expenses. Many of you can attest to my now legendary parsimony; so much so that people associate penny pinching with my face. And they're right.

98% of the time.

1% goes to food. People keep forgetting that I love food. Yes, I can be an absolute Nazi at times; no fast food, no fried food, no sweet drinks, etc, but I really do enjoy food. The only time I indulge, and I mean, really indulge, is when I decide to let loose or to use a workout term: off day. I love pastries (red bean buns, anyone?). I love pasta (serve me spaghetti bolognese and I'll be your friend for life). I love the food that makes your heart scream, shout and eventually surrender in calories and cholesterol. I'd rather pay more for quality than settle for mediocre. And the other 1%?

I love to shop.

I've developed a rather reluctant affinity of spending my money in shops that cater to my ever growing list of things I like. The one time that I let go of myself (and the half-hearted loosening of my wallet) is only known to me. Which I never know. That's the beauty and curse of it. It's more of a curse but a damn lovely curse. You know the feeling you get what you've brought home a new toy? I love that feeling. Sometimes on the way home you think, damn, have I bought the right thing? Holy crap, I spent a bomb on that?! Then when you get home, unwrap it, smell it, feel it and look it you go hot damn! I made the right decision.

But there will come a time when all of that won't mean a thing. Especially when you're going to share your life with someone. If the two of you are wealthy and stable, good for you, but for the majority of people who are just above the comfortable line, myself included, dropping a couple of grand on a luxury item isn't exactly smart. Setting your priorities is paramount; bills need to be taken care of, accidents need to be covered, giving money to family. Those sort of things have to take precedence. However, never forget to indulge. You work so hard and to deny yourself pleasures, be it simple to the exorbitant, will only breed regret. Do what you think will give you satisfaction even if it were minuscule. What you want, what you really want, is something in your mind and you can shake it off. We live in a materialistic world where plastic and fakery is the new world order.

It's up to you to make a choice.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: If you're wondering if I'm referring to The Rolling Stones seminal classic, you are right. But if you're thinking of the original, you are wrong. I'm a Gleek!

Half way there. Half way here. Where am I heading?

2010-05-30T21:24:00.000+08:00

In two days' time we will be entering the second part of 2010.

Holy shit.

Earlier in the year, I was a like a happy bunny, hopping around with a carrot in my mouth thinking how great life was. I hopped and hopped then stopped. Stopped completely and utterly. Carrot finished. Euphemisms aside, what was supposed to be the gateway to a great career ended up nearly choking me. But you know the rest of the story so I might as well go on to now.

Now is very busy. Nay, now is very bloody busy.

Ever since I joined I've not had an easy day. I've had easy first half days but have yet to experience a full day of ease. Yet I wouldn't change a thing. I'm in charge of things. I'm the goto guy whenever there's a problem (it can be tiring being the goto guy but it feels great). All in all, things are going great.

Till the next time I bitch about my job, naturally.

On the life* side of things, it's been more than great. My woman and I have gone from strength to strength and it's it'll get, urm. strengther. The family has accepted her as one of our own; so much so that me ole grandma kept talking to her in own mother tongue even though R had no clue whatsoever what was being said.

So what can I expect in the next six months? More work and more fun, that's for sure. But it's the unexpected things that I'm most looking forward to. After all, what's life without a little mystery, the unknown, what you never imagined.

I need to go to toilet.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: You didn't expect that, yes? :p

* Life = not staring at damn servers and whatnots.

Tarzan, you rock.

2010-05-23T21:57:00.000+08:00

Seriously, people, hanging above 17 metres above the ground can either be the most exciting thing in the world or it could terrify the bejesus out of you.

This was a two-in-one thing.

Yesterday, 220510, was the official date of Chris Hangs on to Dear Life at Skytrex, located somewhere not near Kuala Lumpur city centre at all. (If you have GPS, please use it, you'll thank me profusely when it saves you and your friends from taking 10 U-turns and second exits.) It was a humid afternoon as it had rained, hard, earlier in the morning. This was a blessing as you'll find out. After regrouping with friends and ex-colleagues we all proceeded to gear up and be briefed on the horrors we were going to face.

The tutorial was easy, the guide explaining slowly and clearly on how to not die. With the harness slightly constricting my thighs, I went first and did the first of what would be the most terrifying set of obstacles I've ever done. (Now, I don't really remember all the obstacles as I was a) battling dehydration b) trying to put out the fires in my arms c) trying to not curse at every tree d) ensuring that my glasses stayed on my face) First up, a climb up a 3-storey high ladder. Pretty easy after the a while but the PVC pipes being your steps doesn't give off much confidence. Next, if I remember correctly, was a short flying fox to two obstacles. These obstacles turned out to be the most difficult and the most annoying.

It has to be said that smarmy college kids make the best stewards. As much as I wanted to hit them in the head for being jackasses, their nonchalance propelled me to get through the obstacles as fast as possible. One kid, in a nasally know-it-all tone of voice, repeatedly said, "Sir, it's like walking, one foot then the other." This obstacle in particular had pipes dangling where a misstep would certainly call your harness into action and immense embarrassment to ensue. He will do well in life, I'm sure.

Subsequent obstacles proved to be less annoying but no less taxing on the body. My arms were on fire as I used more upper body strength to haul my carcass-like body. Since I have about as much grace as a sumo wrestler on thin ice going the flying fox was a breeze, literally, as my heavier weight proved to be like a bullet speeding across the terrain. A bullet made of papier-mâché. I envisaged myself gliding through the canopy, the wind on my face, and landing beautifully on the tarp. It never happened. I kept spinning and my landings were all brutal as I hit full on the trees to stop myself. Lets just say the resulting sounds could be heard on a different continent.

Then there are some obstacles where you have to go through what look to be nets. Nets designed to ensnare wild animals. I felt like a trapped, endangered animal being roped in for a documentary on National Geographic. Zigzag obstacles were prevalent and, boy, did it annoy me. I had to ensure my hands didn't get cut off as I pulled myself forward (I know, I know, I'm supposed to not put my hand in front of the carrot binder thing), watch my balance and tried to keep my glasses from visiting the ground.

At the last big obstacle, a long flying fox, I breathed in, exhaled and told myself I'm Bear Grylls. That was before I hit the tree with a loud bang and an even louder curse. As the first to finish, I felt a ginormous sense of accomplishment. If it weren't for my gym training, I would be in a much worse condition. Calloused hands are cool. My glasses were safe. My crown jewels were intact. My ego still solid but body bruised.

Bring on the extreme trail!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: A massive dedication goes to Ronnie James Dio. Thank you for shaping heavy metal. Without your voice, I wouldn't be here, really. R.I.P, Metal God.

To bag or not to bag...holy crap, it's RM10000 for a bag!

2010-05-16T22:35:00.000+08:00

The sparkly floor was so spot-free I can see the inside of my nostrils. A faint smell of leather and polish emanated from every corner of the store. Oddly enough, an odour more commonly found in a dingy coffeeshops serving mixed rice could be detected as well. I believe vegetables and two sides of meat were involved. A store help sees us as we push the heavy iron doors but doesn't help nor smile as he greeted us, his eyes scanning my stained (first time wearing!) Timberland tee. I cough into the help's direction, mumbling sorryassholeyoulooklikeahedgehog. Them polishing liquids do give off such strong smells. We browse the shelves, inspecting the bags diligently whilst trying to coolly locate the price tag. We baulk at the price but without so much as a surprised look, we shake our heads and say we don't like the colour.

We walk away and into another store, hoping our skittish bourgeois-yet-want-to-be-uppity behaviour won't make us drop a RM5000 bag onto the floor. We did that a couple times already.

With the proliferation of upscale shopping centres mushrooming across the city so are the high of high-end brands making their presence known. It must be said that business is booming as women are bagging (pardon the pun) one bag after another with nary a blink of an eye. Not surprisingly, the women who are buying the bags are like you and me, not poor enough to be called poor (we always say we're poor but we still end up getting Starbucks or Coffee Bean every other time, hmm...) or rich enough to be called rich. It's funny that these women are so into the brands they can't pronounce them properly: Plada, Bluebelly, Looeeee Vooooton, Herpes, the list goes on.

You can literally see the vulturous look in their eyes, the glint of insanity behind their oversized sunglasses, even saliva dripping down their neck as they eye a tote that holds brilliantly one pack of tissue paper. And that's just the daughters. Their mothers are worse, grilling the store help with one question after another and shouting at their friends whom they've brought along, "Wah, this bag so nice wan la! Got red colour for this ah?"

And I thought having a Crumpler was the zenith of bagdom.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear an aunt wants to go to Crotch.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: High-end bags are more of a craze here compared to high-end shoes, so I've noticed. Not sure why but maybe some aunties don't cut their toenails.

I want to privatise world peace.

2010-05-09T21:06:00.000+08:00

Can one man save the world? Can one man be the saviour for all us? Can he protect all of us when we are in dire straits?

No.

No one person can bring the world together. Yes, that includes you James Cameron. Peace comes when all of us come together and forget the boundaries history had set for us. Scoff all you want, but Star Trek did have a really good message: peace comes when people are united one roof, regardless of creed and beliefs. Among the humans, of course, screw them aliens with odd foreheads.

Society gladly accepts falsehoods and whatnots because we have become slaves to our own creation: convenience. We are lazy. We have become inured by events that it longer shocks us that wars have killed mothers and babies. A gasp at the headlines and it's off to Prada for the new bag mom wants. The miasma is thickening and will blanket our eyes and senses if we do not fight back.

Funny how Iron Man 2 has this effect me.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: The movie was much better than I expected. The action sequences were fast and rather in your face but begged for more. Acting? Please, you've got a special ensemble and they delivered in spades. Mickey Rourke sure did look weird in his costume.

Roaming in Melaka requires an igloo.

2010-05-02T20:39:00.000+08:00

The streets of Jonker were alive with people of all ages.

Most of them were idiots. The heat was searing, unbearable at times. Our clothes soaked through in our sweat.

Man, I miss those times.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: This is going to be an awesome month.

None but my own.

2010-04-24T23:30:00.001+08:00

The grass is greener on the other side.

This obviously does not apply to the Wembley pitch.

When I left the joyful halls of D, I left because I knew I wasn't going where I needed to be. Where I had to be. My career was stalled. Confidence at an all-time low. Sanity diminishing day by day. Going home was a torture, depression manifesting itself in the form dancing rabbits, wielding pink batons (okay, I lie). More work came (something I loathed utterly but am now grateful for) and my friends were moving forward so that added pressure to my already pressured state of mind.

But a light came. It was a lifeline. I pounced on it like a lion on impala (not the most eloquent of proses but do bear with me). When I got the confirmation that my nightmare in D was coming to an end it brought massive relief. The great burden was lifted. Though, a wave of sadness came about: I was going to leave D and its people. It wasn't so bad at first but the last weeks there was really something. Leaving the position was easy, it was the people that proved difficult a task. I think I've said it before but I'll say it again: the people of D are the best.

Fast forward to the first day at the new place and it went pretty well. The team was nice and friendly though they were really, really quiet and kept to themselves. Finally, I thought to myself, here I am embarking on a journey that will pave the way for my ultimate goal: to be super rich and be the boss of my boss. The work came in chunks and they needed to be done fast. A flurry of emails were sent out, work got done, I went back home happy.

For the first month, that is.

The next two became stale and insipid. I would surf the web for hours on end. I asked for work or tutorials on the environment I was supporting but the guys on the higher level were far too busy with their work. The lustre was fading and so was my enthusiasm. I kept telling myself that I need to get through this, it will be worth it, my dream will come true. But I was lonely there. Lunch time was spent staring into my screen trying to do any work that came in. Then, the call came.

I know leaving NA would blemish my reputation somewhat. After all, I was only there less than 3 months. It was a hard decision; if I had stayed it would have taken a year or so to see results. But the new place offered me something I craved: leadership. It's something I excel at and wish to further enhance. So another leap of faith was taken.

Am now about to enter my third week and, blimey, has the work come in droves. I've been in more meetings, concalls, discussions and whatnots than my last 2 positions combined. The team I work with is chattier and livelier while my boss actually views my opinions and thoughts very seriously. He also has given me free reign over certain areas which is something I'm truly grateful for. While I'm the only one in my field I reckon I will move forward much faster in terms of management and technical skills.

Exciting times are ahead. I won't lie and say I'm not worried about the future. I'm scared shitless, actually. I'm doing things I've never done before and I've a responsibility far bigger than I initially thought. But I'm going with all guns blazing. Wish me luck, guys.

The grass is surely looking to be greener here.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Take that, Spurs!

Friends fighting with friends ain't nice.

2010-04-16T22:00:00.001+08:00

Friend.

The dictionary puts "friend" as: a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard; a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile.

I bet a lot of you view a "friend" as someone you can borrow money from. Or get them to cover up for you when you go down to get the newspaper.

It is not a nice feeling to be fighting with someone. The pain intensifies when you are close friends to each other. Fights can make you think, what the hell? am I really friends with that person? Fights will make you think of all the bad things, sometimes blinding your judgement of right and wrong.Then, you realise, what the fuck just happened? You curse yourself, wishing it would have been different. But it happened, too bad, so live with it. Learn from it. In a way, a fight (tiff, arguement, misunderstanding or whatever you want to call it) can lead to better times.

The journey is painful, as it should be, but at the end of it is with hope that an empathic resolution can be achieved. All for the sake of peace and all the good things that happened. When all is said and done friends will be there for you. Just as you are for them. Friendship that's meaningful should never be taken for granted. Cherish it.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Being the only person in the world handling issues is an absolutely scary thought.

Date Night sounds better than training your dragon.

2010-04-11T21:37:00.000+08:00

To be honest, I didn't expect much from the two movies. How to Train Your Dragon is your typical coming of age movie where not quite developed Viking boy becomes the talk of the mountaintop after learning the ways of training (read: enslaving) dragons. Turns out dragons make good pets. But I recommend watching it for the CGI and effects. Absolutely top-notch. Way better than Clash of the Tits. Titans. Oops.

But it's Date Night that surprised me the most. It won't set your world on fire, no, but if you're in a relationship or you're married, this is a partnership that doesn't have any cracks in it. It's nice to watch a couple who know where they are yet still yearn to do more--in this case--their marriage. Tina Fey and Steve Carell have good chemistry, though, I get the feeling they're just reprising their famous roles from 30 Rock and The Office respectively. I also liked that they still manage to find fun, the juvenile type, and not pretend to fit in.

You hear too many stories of cheating spouses and you think, what the fuck went wrong? I can only hope my own future wife and I will have a life together that's filled with fun and laughter.

Minus people chasing us with guns for stealing a reservation.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: For some reason only known by 10 different kinds of dragons, for the life of me, I couldn't finish what I initially set forth to write. Writer's block? I guess so. Darn.

What? It's April already?

2010-04-03T09:55:00.000+08:00

As I was stuck in yet another traffic snarl, my mind wandered to things. Good things. This weekend will be awesome, chiefly, because my family and I will be celebrating my aunt's birthday, something we've not done in aeons. My next thought veered to the trip I have to another continent in October (massive yeah!) with my woman. Profanities are let loose as a moronic driver suddenly cuts in front of me. I start thinking of all the birthday celebrations, weddings, and whatnot, I'll be able to attend to since I've decided to tone down my parsimonious ways. My sister tells me she'll have busy times as well right to the end of the month. Then, it hit me.

It's already April.

As I recalled the last three months, I must say, it has been rather lacklustre. There have been ups and downs, though, thus far, the downs win. Yet again I am unable to say with a straight face that I am happy with my current position. What began with a whirlwind 250km/h ride is now an insipid 1km/h walk. What the hell happened? I wish I knew. The promises of endless work fizzled and for hours on end I was left to my own devices. To keep my sanity intact, I had to train myself lest I forget what I've learned. They say, no rest for the wicked, but this wicked has been rested for too long.

But enough of the ennui and vagaries of work, let's move on! To where, though? Besides the aforementioned trip in October, I have nothing in the works. There isn't any plan of a plan. Can you believe it? Me, Mr Planner, has nothing up his sleeveless shirt? Well, from now on, it's carpe diem. Ad-hoc Man is here.

What the hell am I rambling about?

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Rooney, come back quick!

Change will come...

2010-03-27T13:35:00.003+08:00

...when you least expect it.

Watch this space.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: If you ask me nicely, I might just tell you what it is.

Hate makes the world go round.

2010-03-21T22:33:00.000+08:00

Don't you just love a clear blue sky? Minus the stifling heat of now, of course. But, what's this? Yet another person, nay, idiot, bumped into me without uttering an apology for doing so. When I turn around, I know why. He's one of those idiots in sneakers, wears a cap the wrong way and is from a race generally known for the laziness and stupidity.

Oops, did I say the wrong thing?

Look, I hate everybody and anyone. So when someone accuses me of being a racist, I'll just pfft right at their cheeks. We all hate each other. If not hate, we distrust. Usually such unbridled ennui is because of someone's colour of their skin. It's a natural feeling. Even the nicest people I know, some of them polite and lovely on the outside, harbour deep resentment towards certain quarters.

And these are just the guys.

Racism in Malaysia is still alive and well, my friend. If a friend says they've been to here and there and have experience something bad our first reaction would be to say, "who was this terrible person?" and whence told, you'll say, "ah, thought so." We have preconceived notions about certain races that when we are regaled tales of good deeds we'd be aghast that it isn't what we've known.

It is not confined to just to other races, it even happens within one's own race. I should know; if it was a crime, I'm guilty. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. It just is. It's not like I sit down I come up with derogatory terms and jot it down on my Post-it note on my fridge.

Oh, the horror stories of what this race is and isn't have been told from generation to generation but does anybody try to tackle the "issue"? For starters, it isn't an issue, it just is. It's a fact of life. We whine and bitch about it till the cows have gone to another kampung but nothing happens. Because people don't really give a damn even though they're more than willing to share a whole sundry list of gripes. So why do we even bother?

Whining and bitching brings catharsis, that's why.

I've been on the receiving end of some pretty nasty racist comments. I doubt it won't happen again. Life goes on. Being a racist isn't a choice, it's already chosen you.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Alice in Wonderland was so-so. Bring on Clash of the Titans!

At least I don't have to wear that funky suit.

2010-03-14T19:09:00.000+08:00

The steps taken are small, light and nary a sound. Heat? Unbearable. Imagine seeing your skin peeled, no, flayed before your eyes. Ironic that it's burn-proof material. My breaths are short and reek that is my own mouth is starting to nauseate me. But I cannot not be 100% focused. I just can't. I reach for the garbage strewn all over the ground and push them away. Colourful wires connected to a device that could blow me and the neighbourhood to smithereens sat there ominously as though I was dared to cut them one by one.

I do.

Sweat is running down my face, the salty taste a reminder that I need a drink later. My earpiece crackles, I hear a command issued to me to get my ass back right this instant. As I'm walking back to the Humvee, I see hands waving at me. The visor limits my visibility considerably and so I walk faster. Another crackle and command yells at me, telling me that there's a suspicious-looking guy with what looks to be a remote detonator and that they can't get a good shot as the guy is running too fast. My heart is pounding so fast I think I might explode. I run as fast as I can in this godforsaken suit. 100 yards later and a mushroom cloud erupts behind me, throwing my body like a rag doll. While the blast echoes in my ears, deafening me and my cry, darkness takes over and the last thing I see is the scorching sun and smoke...

That's how I would imagine being a bomb expert. While I reckon The Hurt Locker and my current position are miles apart, I can relate to its stress, without the threat of loss of life, naturally. One tiny mistake, a miscalculation, even pressing the button that may or not determine the next second of your life, all that I can relate to. Sure, the drama and the high-tension are nowhere the level of such, however, the events of the past few weeks could be summed up with the above description.

An explosion of the senses and mind.

This is not the first time I have kicked a fuss about my job but the past few weeks have been rough, to put it softly (do you see the pun?). If I had an out-of-body experience I'd try to kick my corporeal ass myself. Is this the path that will lead to greatness? I surely hope so, otherwise a 30-year-old me is going to be sorely disappointed (but, hopefully, wealthy). It also doesn't help that the old workplace also misses me. It was such a beautiful time. I truly miss it.

Just like how you will never forget your first love; you will never forget where your career took off*.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: The Hurt Locker was all right. Yes, just all right.

* - Only, that the first real job I had happens to be the best place where one can be. If you're planning to loaf about immeasurably, watch countless Youtube videos and having the best lunches ever then the old workplace is the place for you.

R.I.P Gurshan Singh

2010-03-07T02:48:00.000+08:00

It's funny how you think that your life sucks after a hard week at work and then you read something like this.

The world you know it just got a little bit more violent and less happy.

R.I.P little guy.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Godspeed to the family of Gurshan Singh. Justice shall prevail.

Rudeness and decorum are like jelly beans. You never know what you're going to get.

2010-02-26T16:31:00.000+08:00

Kids these days are a clever bunch. Take my little cousins; they are not bratty in the sense that they do not roll on the floor when they don't get their favourite toys nor do they scream and shot like some primate not sucking on teat. They are, however, savvy in certain areas and are quite logical in their thinking. They've also developed a rather strong pecuniary sense as evident in their refusal in lending me 10 cents.

The little blighters.

But the best part about them? They're not rude. I can tolerate to a certain extent some rudeness but when you cross the line, you will be reprimanded and admonished. Sure, there have been times where they have answered me in a brusque manner but it wasn't out of spite. It's just their character and how they have been brought up.

Growing up, I was told to say my Thank You's and to respect elders. Failing to do so would have resulted in ears being turned the opposite direction and not allowed to revert back till after dinner. My father was adamant that we were polite to others and displayed civility at all times. Any antics would be punishable by some of, well, punishment. Of course, at that time, it wasn't fun at all as I needed to project to constantly be on my best behaviour whenever Dad was around, especially if we were in the company of his fellows. But I guess all that has done a lot to me now. I open doors for women and men alike, (though, strangely enough, I never let people cross the road when I'm driving, instead I'll speed up hoping for the idiots to jump out of my way) you know.

The working world is prime example of how diverse (and downright shitty) people can be*. You get to meet and work with people who have little to no bedside manners, are indignant in the face of work (these are usually the mofos who are constantly bitching and yammering they have so much work but are just lying custards who surf all day and are on the phone), shameless sycophantic to the bosses, and the list goes on. Why are these people the way they are? Weren't they loved? Did they get their teddybears yanked away by the school bully? Why are they such a pain in the proverbial behind? And why do they end up getting the promotion I wanted?!

People are shaped by their upbringing, no doubt about that (I've mentioned something similar to this in another post, but I'm lazy to trudge through the archives) but there are several instances that do not conform to that. I know some people who are the nicest bunch you could ever ask for with devil spawn for children. I swear, if I had a holy rotan (rattan, cane, whip, you get the point) I'd unleash it upon them, smiting them righteously while gleefully giggling.

But that's life for you. To those who are smug and cocky and conniving and who have attained high positions through crooked means, good for you. And for those who are good and nice and polite, well, time to change!

This is Chris, signing off. Politely.

PS: I can be rude when I want to, yes sirree. But I choose not to. Because I'm nice. Provided you treat me nice.

* = At first I wanted to put college world but then I remembered that everyone in college were either trying hard to impress or trying to be the dorkiest. I succeeded in both. Quite superbly, thank you very much.

I love you means nothing.

2010-02-21T21:24:00.000+08:00

It's as though the Brits are competing with the Yanks. But this time, I think the Yanks win this. Well, one Yank, anyway.

We all know what Tiger Woods did. Only a person stuck in a very spacious and cozy cave would not know. And if you're a football fan, you'd also know the infidelities of at least two footballers. What they did is utterly shameful and further demonstrates the immoralities of people who have it all. Their arrogance led them to believe that their secret liaisons and hush-hush affairs would not go unnoticed let alone condemned when found out. But do they deserve to be publicly humiliated and flogged in the open by the media and every gossip-hungry auntie with a bad perm? No. I don't think they do. They do, however, deserve to be humiliated and flogged (metaphorically, naturally) by their family and friends but most especially by their partners (in the above cases, wives).

Hypocrisy go together in this sordid tale. These illustrious public figures have been fettered with various non-sporting awards to go with their chosen fields and some of it must surely draw at least reddened cheeks upon those who bestowed them in the first place. Awards such as, Best Dad and whatnot, have been given to these supposedly good dads when maybe just minutes before they got the award they'd have a quickie in the store room. These men would then go up on stage and put on the biggest and most insincere smile on the planet and proudly admitting that, yeah, I'm a great dad. How did they do it with nary a hint of remorse? Maybe they bit their lip but that could be just a sign of too much lip balm.

Would I forgive if my future wife did it to me? The answer is a resounding no. Though, that's what is most likely to happen but I will only know if and when it ever happens to me, which, I hope it never does. Some people would say turn the other cheek, do what Jesus would do. To them, I'll say, I am not Jesus. And slap their cheeks*.

"I love you" never meant a thing if you've never felt it.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I finally watched Tiger Woods' televised apology. By jove, it was one of the most robotic, unconvincing and rehearsed act I've ever seen.

* - Gently, of course.

Arrows, hearts and oranges. Which of these don't match?

2010-02-12T21:34:00.004+08:00

No long post from me. Just a simple wish of a blessed and pleasant Chinese New Year to all my friends and family. Remember to toss that yee sang higher than a tall building.

And to that special someone, Happy Valentine's Day.

Be nice.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: What? You actually thought this is going to be short post? Puh-leez! Well, the way I see it, Chinese New Year has become less about the celebration but more of an obligation. and another reason to parade one's latest Coach acquisition (by the way, Coach is becoming far too common as every Afro-haired auntie has one thus sullying its exclusivity somewhat). I see it with the rest of the major celebrations. Heck, Christmas is no longer about the birth of Christ, but how much wine and terrible fruit cake one can consume in a single dinner. Since Valentine's Day also falls on the same day as the first day of the lunar new year, it somehow has received precedence as every nook and cranny of the shopping centre I'm so fortunate to have below my work building has sprung a jewellery shop of some kind touting "Best Deals in Town!" when, really, their deals are crap. Nothing says love like a RM100,000 bracelet that looks like lint from your bellybutton.

Have a great holiday, my lovely bunions!

When mouth is quicker than mind, you're screwed.

2010-02-07T22:48:00.000+08:00

You know that feeling you get when you've said or done something you really meant for 5 seconds but you're now regretting it?

Welcome to regret.

Most of you know that I don't believe in regrets as it makes the mind dwell on unpleasant things when you could be relaxing on the beach with bikini-clad women running up and down the beach. But sometimes I wished I never did or I should've done things in a different way. It's happened to me many a time and it will happen again.

Human behaviour is such that we cannot never fathom the true feelings of someone even if you know the person like the back of your pretty hand. It's just not possible, the most is 99% accuracy because that remaining 1% can either make it or break it.

The mind is wondrous thing, a truly mysterious and magnificent thing. But when your mouth is quicker than your mind can process thoughts, you're screwed.

This is Chris, signing off.

P.S: This post was written in one of my foul moods quite awhile ago. The event that triggered this is long forgotten.

P.P.S: Never bottoms-up 5 glasses of red wine. Just don't.

1 down, 11 more.

2010-01-29T13:04:00.000+08:00

The end of this month is nigh and it sure as heck couldn't come any quicker. 2010 sure has been a lacklustre year thus far, aye? Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's just you. Oh, well.

Quick recap this year: new job, new surroundings (well, I've been to the place many a time but never as an employed personnel), new faces and, of course, new expenses (!). So far, the new place has been pretty good; have learnt new things in my first 4 weeks than I did at the old place. Even made a booboo, too (try saying that fast, I dare you).

The office: it's so quiet here it's as though work makes everyone silent like a little lamb. People are generally friendly and will give you a small smile that says "yes, you're cute". Work-load is still hit-and-miss, sometimes busy, sometimes freer than a free bird. It'll take me six months or so to learn the ropes of this place fully but I hope to do it in less than time so that I can get promoted and then move on to another place, woohoo! All right, that last sentence is crazy talk but I'm sitting here in the office* wishing it was Christmas and naked Santarinas are bobbing up and down. It's also colourless; very drabby and grim hues surround me. In a nutshell, I've come here to work. Mingling is a way distant second.

The work place: not to be confused with my office place, the place where I work is terribly dull, yet another shopping centre catered to the masses. Whilst KLCC had some "soul", here in Gardens it's all plastic and sterile. But if there's one good thing is that it's a lot more convenient as I can get groceries and such at decent prices, which, as you all know gets a big smile from me.

The people: as I've said, they're friendly and generally will talk to you if you talk to them first. Team-mates are good and very helpful. But I reckon it is only for now because I'm still quite new to the environment. Also, I'm helping to mentor two new girls. They're fresh from the oven and have not worked before. Me, teacher? Why, yes!

Significant things that happened in January:

Learnt to drive at a much slower pace than I never imagined to save on petrol cost.
Watched a movie in a Gold class cinema. (Huhu, my wallet is thin now.)
I've become more organised and structured in my work. (I hope.)
I've become a mentor! (If you know me well, you would know that I am the king of analogies. I believe analogies make memorising things, especially dreary subjects, a lot easier. I just hope the two girls remember what I've said, though!)
I'm actually looking forward to working. GASP!

What February would bring:

More work.
More work
More work
Great time with the family during Chinese New Year
Valentine's Day special...GASP!!! More on this when it happens.

How has your January been? Good, I hope. As always, stay beautiful and see you next week!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I want a mace that can twirl twirl one!

* - Well, I started writing in the office.

Legion, Haiti and Gold Class. What do they have in common?

2010-01-24T21:12:00.001+08:00

The line was longer than a mile-long snake. As I looked at my watch to check the time, I knew that any longer a wait will make me miss any chance of getting a good seat (or any) so I made a decision.

Gold class it is.

To be honest, I had forgotten how much the price of a single ticket was. The girl at the counter reminded me and then some. After I had booked two tickets. Come show time, me and my girl went into the cinema which could hold less than 40 people and were instantly struck by the coldness. The seats were huge and had swallowed her whole. While the movie Legion was playing I could not help but wonder, how the hell did this happen? The cost could've fed me 2 weeks worth of lunches. And to think there are people willing to pay such prices every week! Crazy! Paying such lucrative prices had its advantages, though; less idiots, zero potential for seat shaking (if it ever happens I would've flipped because there was so much leg room!) and the aforementioned comfortable seats. She and I agreed that this will be a treat and that only the "good" movies shall be enjoyed in such manner. Fun as it may sound to you and me but here we are throwing silly money when there are parts of the world fighting to survive.

We all know what has happened to Haiti and its people. Probably because every Z-list American celebrity and non-stars are shoving pleas of please help Haiti when they themselves are still shopping at Coach and Armani looking at bags that could feed an entire village for some time. Hope for Haiti sounds like a noble institution, doesn't it? It's a sham and most of the celebrities who took part in it were looking to promote their wares. Why the fuck go about on the phone asking normal people who earn normal salaries to donate their normally-earned money when you the bloody celebrity who gets an obscene amount of cash to be in front of cameras can donate more? Why don't they just shut up and donate a significant amount each? Singing won't bring food or medical aid, no, actually going there to give them such items does. The power of music is undeniable, I stand by that statement with arms wide open, but in this case it's just a way of getting attention so that people will buy the artist's next album. By the way, pledging and will are two very different things, corporations please take note.

Legion was interesting. Well, the interesting parts were interesting but overall it was a mess. Convoluted and not well-thought out, it falls flat in delivering its, I reckon so, message that we're all fucking up this world of ours. I won't get into much detail because I'm lazy and writing film reviews should be left to this man but I'll add my 2 cents: watch this movie if you want to have a nice time and you want to forget about work. If you're looking for good-versus-evil type of intellectualism please read Nietzsche or Calvin and Hobbes.

It's funny that the people of Haiti and so many like them are thanking God that they're alive when their lives have been destroyed and turned into despair. I wonder who their dead relatives are sending their thanks to?

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Old women with vampiric teeth crawling on the ceiling and spewing profanity after profanity is actually pretty darn freaky.

Men are pussies.

2010-01-17T00:03:00.000+08:00

Sweat trickled from my face and unto the floor, creating a small puddle. The smell in the gym was musty and faintly reeked of cabbage. I had set the weight on the floor, slowly catching my breath and psyching myself for the lift. As I was about to lift the two 50-pounder dumbbells, I heard a cry. Not a cry for help, no, but a cry that sounded like a mixture of pain and a dog whimpering. I looked up, trying to locate the human who emitted the cry. I could see a small group of men surrounding this middle-aged man. He was panting, grunting and telling his friends that he could not do another repetition. But his friends would have none of that and kept urging him "one more time, champ!" A snort was let loose, a small derisive chuckle, too. With all his might, the man tried one more time and out came the loudest cry of all. Everybody stopped dead in their tracks (interestingly enough, only 3 women fell off their treadmills) and stretched their necks to see what had happened. The old man laid on his back, face buried in his hands and pleading for no more.

A downright sissy, he was!

Truth be told, men are pussies. They swagger and they holler like they're some big time charlie but when told to lift a weight they'll drop on their knees, begging for the nightmare to stop when it hasn't even begun yet! I see this all the time in the gym, the posing and the look of utter arrogance and Nike gloves protecting their baby-smooth hands from the rigours of lifting 5-pounders. It's odd to note that these must weave a tale whenever they're amongst their mates. There's this one old man in the gym that is clearly an attention whore and yelps whenever he feels a yelp is necessary. Retard.

But this self-emasculating doesn't happen in the gym, it also happens everywhere. You see guys with upturn collars and sunglasses in shopping centres and you for sure that he's a douchebag (if you're one of them and you're reading this, you're a douchebag). Inferiority complex is alive and well, my friends, and it's in the form of clumsy attire and even clumsier behaviour. Having their egos bashed in is not something jerks want to happen but once in a while a good kicking to the groin (not literal!) would shake things up a little. Especially those who pontificate or are preachy bastards with charisma only like-minded snakes can only tolerate.

Yet, the douchebags go up in life yet the honest joes get the short end of the proverbial stick. Life's fair? Pfft, not in this plane of existence. If the Big Guy above has plans for all honest people, I would love to know.

I guess there's an ultimate plan for all of us. But I'll be damned if I don't achieve what I want.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Is it just me or has this year's January been a slow month?

Life's a piece of cake. Unfortunately, this particular piece is durian-flavoured.

2010-01-10T02:02:00.001+08:00

Hey guys and gals!

How are my favourite people doing? Good, I hope. While the country slowly descends into a pot of ignorant and degenerative species of special-minded stupidity, it is with unbridled enthusiasm of wanting to do good things this year is what is driving you and me to achieve greatness.

I have successfully Dr. Phil-ed myself.

What a week it has been. Let me tell you, if I thought I had it easy, I did. I so fucking did. It's like I jumped from one burning house to another one. But have I told you that this new burning house is about the size of Singapore? Yes, sirree, it is. But to call it a burning house would be demeaning to my employers. No, it's not a burning house, but I am certainly ablaze, around the toes, thankfully. I won't go into exact details, though, I will say this: when you've not been given a mouse due to nonavailability of stock on hand, you know you're in a no-nonsense office (hmm, actually, I have no clue what I've just said). This shows how people work, and work these people do. A lot. I've never been in an environment so dedicated in the pursuit of finishing a task. Sure, there's the occasional guffaw and a scream or two but it's nowhere was I had the last time.

I'm slowly liking it a lot.

Of course, it's far too early days to give you a definitive take on my new environs but I've good vibes. Here's to good things for you and me. If things look a little bleak, just look out the window. There might be rainbow smiling at you.

Or some crazy mafaker with a knife.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: What the hell happened to sanity and all things good on Friday? What a bunch of goddamn shits!

PPS: Here's my review of Avatar. Enjoy.

And in another 10 years I'll be 36. Whoopee!

2010-01-01T20:34:00.006+08:00

Happy 2010!

Raise your hand if you thought the celebrations were a little on the quiet side. In fact, some of it was quite a drab. Funny isn't it? I would have thought that since this is a new decade people would go apeshit and usher it with much aplomb and plenty of excitement.

I didn't feel shit.

I guess people were a) too damn drunk from Christmas, b) saving up money for a new sofa set, c) not fucking bothered at all. I am in none of the above. I ushered in 2010 by helping to sell bowls of Nyonya Laksa (the picture will make you want a bowl right this instant, I guarantee it) and being with the family. It was great, mom was very happy and so was I. Next year, though, I'm thinking of something else...

So far, it's been a quiet start to the year. After all, my year will only start on the 4th of January, the day I begin my new route on my journey to become filthy rich. The days prior to it I will be helping out with the household chores and catching up on my reading.

Since you people are most interested in my resolutions, I won't make the wait any more painful that it is, so, take this!

Make 2010 better than 2009.
Save money so that I can have more vacations.
Drive at 80-90 km/h as it'll save petrol == save money. So I can have more vacations.
Go up in rank. Or, at the very least, get a pay raise (I prefer pay raise, though, because I want to have more vacations).
Attend another concert, preferably here and not in Singapore.
Be kinder to children. But if they insist on being asinine even when I've given them ample warning, I will throw them a beat down.
Be kinder to old people. However, if they act like righteous SOBs then a can of whoop ass will and truly be unleashed upon their sorry arses. (Bill, you're one of them oldies but will I be kinder? Lets see how it goes...)
Learn to do my workouts in 45-minutes bursts, with little to no rest in between sets so that I can be in and out of the gym in a jiffy.
Spend less on unnecessary things i.e. junk food, fast food, etc. (Take that Akka, Bill and RM!)
Get a smartphone so that I can do all that touchscreen thingamajig.

There you have it! It was only five resolutions at first but I'm being generous so I came up with another five. It's just finished raining and you know what this means: D

Damn nice to sleep now!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: There's an 11th resolution but it's dedicated to one special girl in my life. She knows what it is.

2 more years to disaster. Nah!

2009-12-28T00:07:00.003+08:00

In the movie, 2012, the world ends. If yes, then I will look back at 2009* fondly.

2009 has been an up-and-down year. Thankfully, it's mostly been ups. The beginning was rough, I tell no lie as work was filled with one terrible story after another. I was going to work dreading the hours, the day, then the week, then week after that. The stress was explicit and implicit; when I didn't bitch about it, it would simmer within. I wasn't alone in the malaise of Work Hell, thank goodness, but each of the sufferers had their own form of purgatory. But the best thing to come out of that was the solidification of friendships. Yes, more than one happened. In a strange twist of fate, a special friendship was formed out of turmoil. I take nothing away from it apart from a lasting bond between me and one Akka.

As the months went by, so did my colleagues. One by one, the good people from my team managed to procure themselves newer and much greener pastures elsewhere. Whilst I was happy for them, I felt sad as I didn't know when my nightmare would end. But I kept telling myself that my time would come and then the call came. The call that would change my life. Unfortunately, that call would have changed life if it weren't for the intervention of a former colleague whom I thought was a friend. I cursed him, thinking my ticket out had disappeared and that I had to face my doom.

But Fate had something else in mind...

Before I go on, I would like to regale you with another story. It was the beginning of the month of August. We were all excited as finally the long-awaited teambuilding escapade to the island of Perhentian was drawing near. The break from work was much needed and the best part about it was the fact that I got to spend it with my colleagues who I know wouldn't spend it with me if it was to be borne by ourselves. One of the nights, the full moon was shining at its brightest. The sea was gently beating in the background while the air was crisp and warm on the face. That night shall forever be etched in memory as it was the night of magick.

I met the one.

When the hullabaloo of me not getting what was thought as "sure get the job one!", and when everything cooled down, I still sent out my CV in the hopes of securing myself a way out. I was either well below qualified or too qualified. Frustrating, but I kept on going. The last interview I went, I thought, this is it, if I don't get this I'm going to stop for the time being. Though, you know what they say: save the best for last. I managed to convince the boss that I was the right person and voila! I'm now awaiting for the 4th of January next year to start my new job.

Happy times are abound!

Of course, if I were to put in everything that transpired in 2009, this post would be 10000 pages! I'm just glad to say that the last four months have been blessed. I can't think of a better way to say goodbye to the year than with having wonderful memories. As the year draws to a close, I am reminded of all the good things that have happened and what will happen.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: No special resolutions for 2010 because I've accomplished what I've wanted in the last two years.

* - Duh! I have yet to go through 2010 and 2011!

Goodbye and thanks for the chicken.

2009-12-19T08:38:00.004+08:00

Goodbye* can be a sad or happy thing. Most of the time it's just a normal thing. "Hey, take care and goodbye!" That sort of normal thing. But this time, it's a sad and happy thing.

After 2 years and 2ish months, my journey with my current employers will come full circle this Wednesday. Leaving a company where you got your teeth cut is never going to be easy, especially if you've made a connection with the people. No matter how crazy things had happened, you'd still feel a sting in your heart when your time to leave is approaching. It's very much your first love that wasn't to be; you'll never forget it and you'll never feel any bad feelings towards it.

Without this company, I wouldn't be the person I am now and will be. Aside from gaining the work experience I need so badly for my career, I've learnt a lot about dealing with people of all types (the bad ones have helped thicken my skin but it's still surprisingly smooth). Confidence and belief are at an all-time high, thanks to the working conditions and what transpired during my stint. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, so goes the saying but thankfully no-one wanted to do that.

I think.

So here comes the thank you list: I would like to thank the management (SH and Janhot), for hiring me in the first place, my team (you know who you are!) for helping me to develop my career. Special thanks and eternal gratitude go out to these beautiful people: Bill, you're such a fucking asshole but you're an absolute riot, thanks for being the older brother I wished I never had. Badul, you and I have a lot of things in common, so much so it scares me and while you act like a right dickhead, you're just a big goofy oaf. Akka, thanks for everything, I have no idea why or how you've become part of me but I'm glad I'm part of you. Since I'm not that kind of person but I will be this time: thank you, my dear RM. You've made me happy and hopefully we'll be together through thick and thin and in between. I will cherish what this company has given me and you're the best.

I guess this is it. I won't lie and say I don't feel sad writing this. The memories are starting to flood in my thoughts and it's not easy to not remember the good times. I will truly miss this place and its people but the time to move has come. I can only wish that the new place will have people half as good.

If any of you people are reading this, don't forget me. I know won't forget you.

This is Chris, signing off.

* - Or is it good bye? No-one says badbye or bad bye, right**?
** - Psst, I do.

Who would've thought?

2009-12-13T22:00:00.000+08:00

Friends. Who needs them?

If you're a loner then the above statement might just pique you. But you (yes, YOU) know me, I am gregarious lad who loves nothing more than to chill-out with his friends (at cheap establishments, no less!).

This story is 7 years in the making. It all started in college; I was then a quiet, fat tub who spoke to no one and thought he would be the class loner. But Fate had a funny card to deal...

As the days went by, I started to mix around with anyone who would talk to me, be it about college work, computer games or whatever that came to mind (i.e. crap) and just being usual self. Of course, as with any place I am at, I would meet characters of all sorts. It seems that all the TV shows are true, you will always find the arrogant one, the goody two-shoes one, the boisterous one, the know-it-all one, the darn-right idiotic one, and of course, the one that everyone hates. I was the class clown and joke maker (I had two positions in the class!), so this made the one that everyone hates to dislike me!

I remember vividly the first time I saw him: he had big headphones, had his hair spiked to the heavens, and holy crap of cows, he was a skinny fucker! He was also loud, kind of abrasive, but that came from him being very opinionated and meticulous. It also didn't help that he had all the latest gadgets that I wanted badly but could never afford.

He and I never got along in the beginning. We had this animosity where the mere presence of each other would send us in the angry zone. We never meant any harm to each other but neither did we mean good. Yet, somehow, we began to talk to each other, work together even. After some time, the animosity disappeared completely. In its place, a friendship bloomed (sounds pretty gay, I know, but I'm telling it as it is so bear with me.) and now we're best mates for life. We may not agree on a few things but we always try to understand each other. Also, we share a lot of personal things, stuff only we can relate to and feel extremely comfortable telling each other our history and feelings.

As I write this, he's now in the state of California, probably sipping on fine wine. Or knowing him, a cold glass of beer, designing the next big thing.

This post is for you, Irwin. Please don't forget me when you've made it to the top. I'll send you my wedding invitation and I don't give a fuck if you're supposed to be designing for the Queen of England, you're coming, damnit!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I am not getting married anytime soon. I repeat: I am NOT getting married anytime soon.

PPS: Maybe next year.

I can't seem to finish my sen...

2009-12-08T11:20:00.002+08:00

The writer's block has afflicted me greatly.

Will update this blog when the block has been lifted. Till then, stay beautiful.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Next post will be about what happened in the last 12 months so stay tuned. It'll be worth it.

I hope.

I wouldn't mind having buttguns!

2009-11-30T14:13:00.005+08:00

Last Saturday was a movie marathon so here's a quick and dirty movie update (cos I don't have anything constructive to blog about):

Ninja Assassin

By jove, Rain is superb. I can't believe I just said that. Really, the rather unhandsome one (ya, ya, he's good-looking and tall and cute and whatnot but his long hair makes him pretty in this so get off your high horse, k?) delivers an adroit if not smart-alecky performance as he says lines drier than an undried bacalao that's a 100-years-old. Storyline is a no-brainer; you go in, have a good time and try not to squirm every time a body part gets severed from its owner, blood gloriously splattered all over the place. And, ladies, yes, he does have a killer body.

You may now scream in delight.

Astro Boy

I went in the theatre hoping that it'll be good (because I didn't want to watch that* movie) as I have never watched the cartoon. Thankfully, I was pleasantly entertained. There are a few gripes, though, chiefly Nicolas "I'm an overly paid actor because I look mopey" Cage whose soporific voice did not convey the sense of loss and hope of Dr. Tenma. There was also a lack of urgency, especially later in the movie when Astro Boy had to battle the evil President Stone. But then again, watching Ninja Assassin before this does make you somewhat bloodthirsty.

A Christmas Carol

Let it be known that apart from the first Ace Ventura and The Mask, I have not enjoyed another Jim Carrey movie. Yes, I enjoyed the movie only because of the story as well as the phenomenal graphics. Carrey was surprisingly good while the supporting cast were not short on talent, too. Speaking of the graphics, golly, the detail on every single object is just mindblowing. And to add to its near-realism, some of the character design and sequences actually, GASP!!!, made me startled like a little boy accidentally seeing his grandparents kissing after a game of Solitaire (huh???).

Three movies in a day, wow, that's a record! Have a productive week ahead, folks!

I know I won't!

This is Chris, singing off.

PS: I love my

* = New Moon, pfft!!!

Don't you be cheatin', yeah.

2009-11-22T23:55:00.002+08:00

When I was a wee lad, I used to love toys. Gundam, Transformers, Smurfs* and Dragonball were some of the stuff I wanted so badly but I could never have them because a) I was poor b) Dad hated buying toys for me. So whilst I saw my friends and cousins getting the newest toys, I had to put up with books that were tattered and were dog-eared so badly even my own ears turned upside down just by looking at them.

There was a time when I was no more than 6-years-old at Yaohan's (renamed The Mall or whatever it's called now) toy section, looking at all the nice toys and wishing I owned 3/4 of them (the other 1/4 was Barbie dolls and there's no way in Hell I want any of it). I was scurrying from aisle to another when I came across this mousy man of about 40. He was looking from left to right in the manner of someone about to do something bad. In his hands I saw him clutching a Transformers toy, and a moment later he ripped the back and quickly put the toy into his plastic bag. I stood there dumbfounded. There was only one thing on mind:

Why didn't my Dad do the same?

All right, all right, tasteless and unfunny joke aside, what would drive a man to steal a toy worth 20 bucks for his son? You could say that the father just wanted to please his son but to do it in that manner, well, that's just plain wrong. But since the son would never know this, surely this all right?

Right?

The debacle of last week comes courtesy of Thierry Henry's Hand of God act against the Republic of Ireland. Now, he's come clean after admitting that he did for a fact used his hands to control the ball (very beautifully if I may say so) and then deliver it to his mate who promptly used his head to score the crucial winning goal. FIFA (sort of the world football's police minus the guns and uniforms) has thus far rejected all forms of protests, no matter how polite or vehement they were, and calls for a rematch. Yet, FIFA is the same organisation that wants to be the paragon of sincerity and honesty but has remained noncommittal over this fiasco. Henry himself has called for the rematch to be taken place but FIFA doesn't want to because it is afraid people are going to think of them badly.

Well, it's too late. We all think you fucking suck, FIFA.

What Henry did is inexcusable, we all know that. He's a legend but this will surely sully his legacy somewhat. Nonetheless, I do commend him for coming out, admitting his deception and his pleas that the right be done. But since FIFA are a bunch of old men who are worried about their red cheeks turning redder in embarrassment then the truth and justice are denied their rights.

If you think deceiving a child is bad, what about FIFA? They're cheating football, a whole nation and what it means to do the right thing.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I wonder if cheating is hereditary and the son is now doing the same for his own child now? Scary thought, eh?

* = My cousins thought they represented Satanism. Yes, they are bloody dumb.

Ah, yes. I'm back!

2009-11-15T11:38:00.008+08:00

How has everyone been?

Great, I hope. Last weekend was an absolute blast. The much-needed holiday in Singapore came and brought immense relief to me and my friends. The two weeks prior to it were incredibly stressful; so much work needed to be done before I felt the holiday spirit rising in me. But when we touched down at Changi airport did I feel finally at peace. Four days without checking emails and answering various idiotic questions from idiotic users was afoot!

With every visit, I grow to like the island more and more. I've always maintained that I would love to work there someday, for a few years even. I don't know why exactly but whilst the pace on the island is so a lot faster than back here I feel as though I am at ease, that I don't need to rush to get to somewhere. Even when we got lost in some remote part of the city at 8pm (the bicycles were everywhere!!!) I didn't feel like we were going to end up in the newspapers: 3 Malaysians and a Filipina, lost in the wilderness that is Marina Bay, amid a million bicycles. I dare not walk outside my house after 8pm. That's how safe I felt.

I won't get into the boring details of the holiday as nothing out of the ordinary happened. Funnily enough, it was the guys who came back with the most stuff as our respective partners were wonderful and patient in waiting for us and tolerating our inanities. On behalf of my friend and myself, Terima Kasih and Salamat to the girls who made this trip a whole lot more special.

And, now, I shall leave you with this nugget of a video. He may be wooden as a brick in the Potter films but, by jove, does he impress me with this cameo. Enjoy!!!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Same time, next year, guys and gals?

Time out!

2009-11-07T05:15:00.000+08:00

Folks, by the time many of you read this I'll be in a land far-away than mine.

Well, it's a far-away land if you consider a 45-minute plane ride, urm, a far-away one.

Take care and as usual do not fret as I'll be back next week to post yet another illuminating diatribe on why Singaporean food sucks.

You know you can't wait for it.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I'm super duper excited!

Take a look around you. It's an unfair world.

2009-10-31T22:00:00.001+08:00

I'll be in Singapore (what, again???) next week, having a much deserved holiday. I say much deserved because the last month has been an absolute mindfuck. I've always maintained that you won't hear a sound from me about a job unless I absolutely and truly despise it. And I do. Very much. I've some made mistakes. A few of time highly embarrassing when found out but I laughed at them and worked on my next task. After complaining the heck out of it, of course. But I don't want to talk about work, especially the things that make me angry.

The trip to Singapore will be a special one as I'll be going with friends and my girl instead of family. And you know what this means. Yes, I don't need to treat them for breakfast, lunch or dinner! Yayness! Parsimony aside, this trip is going to be one of rest and relaxation. It's going to be a really great trip. I can feel it in my bones.

Sadly, a few children will not even know that Singapore existed. In the papers this past week, schoolchildren from across the country have had their lives taken away abruptly. And a new colleague of mine had his young son passed away.

Makes all your holiday plans seem petty, doesn't it?

May the Big Guy in the Sky watch over them and let them play in the eternal playground of Heaven.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Happy Halloween to all. May all the ghouls of your fears not come out and bite your toes tonight.

Where the wild things are not...

2009-10-24T10:52:00.003+08:00

First off, I apologise for the lack of an update the week before. I was very occupied with work,* what with my seniors going off on holiday and me running the show like a partially beheaded chicken. Also, my Internet connection was severely hampered by the supposed ineptitude of my service provider but the real truth was that my contractor accidentally incapacitated my connection due to a mix up of the wires.

It's been 2 years since I stepped into the my current employer's doors. If you know my working history, I never lasted more than a month at one place so after 3 months here I thought, this is it, I'm going to retire here.

How awesomely mad could I be back then?

There comes a time when you know you're not getting any satisfaction when you wake up thinking, fuck, I hate this shit. I know the feeling very well; I've been waking up with this feeling over a year now. Back when I first had it, it was very bad. I had immense hatred burning inside me just by launching Outlook. Reading emails proved torturous as every email seemed intended to push me even further away with impossible requests. Though, the last couple of months have seen a significant drop in me bitching about how crappy my job is thanks to a certain girl in my life. Without her, I think I would've committed mass murder, on rabbits no less. (You know who you are and I thank you for giving me a renewed passion to be a better person.)

Of course, no one goes to a single company and works there for the rest of their career? Not in this generation, anyway. It would be great if the company you joined provides you with every thing from job satisfaction to a nice life but if one of those is suffering then you need to regroup your senses and think properly: Is this really worth it?

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: We're going to crush you, Liverpool! Mark my words! Glory, Glory Man United!

* = Honestly, I wanted to use busy but using that word would imply that I had no time to take long lunches, frequent tea (I don't drink coffee while I'm at work) breaks and walking about the office, disturbing other people. I did all those. And more. But, seriously, I was busy.

I want to be the President of the United States when I grow up.

2009-10-10T08:57:00.004+08:00

Because, seriously, after 9 months, I'm bound to get something, right? It could be an MTV award (what the heck for, anyway?), maybe I'll get a hamper consisting of healthy stuff like organic manuka honey with placenta (WTF???) and various herbs with names only people of tribal ancestry are able to enunciate it perfectly.

Or I'll could be awarded the Nobel Peace prize.

Seriously, Obama winning the Nobel Peace is like giving me the keys to the Playboy mansion. Wait, scrap that. In all honesty, when I saw the news I just went, "Heh?" and continued checking out Facebook.

C'mon, we all know he's good but is he that good? We fete him as though he was some sort of the second coming of Christ. But he still has a long way to go before any of us can call him anything but a visionary.

Alfred Nobel must be turning in his grave right now.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Then what about people who are really doing something about world peace? I can't name names but Obama is certainly no where in the top 100.

I am thankful.

2009-10-03T20:07:00.003+08:00

My previous mobilephone started giving me problems about 2 months ago. It didn't respond to my commands and I thought maybe it was being bitchy so I cared for it like how one cares for a sick person:

I threw it on the floor.

Okay, okay, I kid. Of course you don't throw someone on the floor. Sheesh. But I did throw it and it worked. For a while. Then it started acting up and this it became so much worse; it started to send out text messages on its own, it hung up without me knowing, lines were getting cut because my phone didn't like to be used so much. Then it all became unbearable to the point where I just turned it off in the hopes of it resolving its internal struggles.

It didn't.

So after deliberating much, I decided to get me a brand spanking new mobilephone which cost half of my fridge. And my fridge ain't cheap. While I was busily fussing over pixels and whatnot, people from the Philippines and Indonesia were trying to save their lives. There I was calculating how much money I need to fork out whereas the people over at those countries had only one thing on their mind:

Will I survive?

I read the papers and sighed. I watched the videos of the aforesaid countries' natural disasters and was left stunned and mortified by how devastating Mother Nature can be. Mother Nature is angry and she's angry at the people who have been put here to safeguard but instead have raped it of its vigour and vitality. It is as though She is fed up with everyone's increasing ignorance and apathetic attitude towards protecting this one world we live in. Have we become that diffident to the plight of the world? We are a plastic nation with plastic everywhere we go. We love our material possessions yet we do not spare a moment's thought on how a child is going survive after such catastrophes.

But here I am whinging and whining when I do nothing to help, to offer my hand to those who need a helping hand. Why? Am I lazy? Or am I ignorant as well?

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I salute those who bravely risk their lives to save strangers. If only the human race can forget about chasing the next thrill we'll probably be onto a much position in our lives. Something needs to be done, we all know that. So why are we still concerned over pixels and whatnot?

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I may not be the most religious person around but my thoughts and prayers go out to those who've lost their lives, struggling to live and to those who are making that difference in this world.

It wasn't that bad after all!

2009-09-25T21:48:00.005+08:00

The week of Hell has finally come and gone. The best part is that I've come out of it mostly unscathed and have a deeper of understanding of the work that's available to me.

Wow, indeed.

I feared the worst as I was assigned to not one, not two but three areas of which I'm terrified of. Not anymore. In fact, I sort of enjoyed the rush of things; I had to deal with sometimes 3 requests from 3 different sources and in the end still be focused on my main task.

Hopefully next week will be more of the same as it makes the time go by much quicker rather than feeling like time is slow and you feel like jumping off the damn building because of the sheer ennui that permeates the work place.

Am not going to go into boring details but I will say this: it was fun being the goto man. It made me feel...important.

I just need to remember to eat.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: 3 more months and it's 2010!

From nought to 300mph...

2009-09-21T20:55:00.002+08:00

The last week has been simply and utterly...

FUCKED.

From not doing much work to having practically a truckload of work dumped on me, it was the first time in a very long time I understood what it meant to be busy. You see, I'm not particularly fond of the word as I believe that being busy implies that you either have poor time management or you're actually busy. I have this allergy-like reaction towards this certain client of ours; the mere mention of its name is enough to induce me into a fiery ball of virulent madness.

I readily admit that I was overwhelmed. A certain wave of indecisiveness tends to hit me whenever I do something for the first time; am I doing it right or am I potentially screwing up an entire business? These thoughts need to be banished, I know, but when the enormity of the situation is presented onto me I can't help but feel a little bit bewildered by all that is going on. A smile is etched on my face when a new email arrives asking me what the hell is going? and there I am booking the most suitable slot to watch a movie this Saturday afternoon.

This is going to be yet another trying week but I'm going in with all guns blazing. I may duck and I may run, but I'll be damned if I don't give it my best. After all, I've already booked the tickets for this Saturday afternoon.

Selamat Hari Raya!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Even taking a few sips of white wine is enough to get to my temperature boiling. No kidding!

Weird and me go hand-in-hand like butter on bread. And sometimes corn.

2009-09-11T17:00:00.001+08:00

You know, sometimes a single word is able to encompass a person's nature so well it can be quite eerily uncanny. Like, for example, George W Bush. The words idiot, dumbass, Dubya, any one of those can be used on him and people will go, "Ahhhhh. True. Pass me the mash potatoes, thanks."

I've been labelled all sorts of derogatory terms growing up and even till now I am still receiving sobriquets of all sorts. But the one title that has been a part of my structure, my being, me, has to be Weird. You can call me strange, peculiar, odd, amazingly fooking hot (to those who've watched District 9, you know what I'm talking about), Weird has and will always most likely be the first thing people will associate me with. Besides new titles such as lovable, adorable, macho, etc of course but lets save those for another post...

As some of you might know, growing up I was always the one kid who didn't seem to fit in any where. Whenever festive season came about I would be placed with my cousins and when they played I was either not invited or I acted diffidently to their (reluctant) invitations. While now I consider myself the dark horse of the family during those times, I was able to assimilate myself to any situation that presented itself so it wasn't a case of that fat kid being antisocial. As such, I've always been comfortable doing things on my own. I find it cathartic; I can eat at my own pace, walk as fast or slow as I want to, scratch my bum when an itch came about, all that can be done without having to worry about someone else beside me. I never considered myself as being a loner, and I certainly don't think that was in any way weird.

I have the tendency to spout utterly random, inane things at times. Family and friends know this fact very well; they either think I'm talking to myself or that one of my screws is loose yet again. Such things are triggered by just about anything at all; it could be a word that I can put a pun or something I've watched in cinemas and is applicable to my daily life. And if I've a friend who can help me make the nonsense even more fun, the more inane I can get. (Thanks be to Frorinder Singgins. Really.)

Waffle Girl said that all people are weird in their own way. Yes and no. They're only thought of to be weird only if they have a certain foible or idiosyncrasy that is deemed anomalous to the norm. What's normal is weird and vice versa. It's just a matter of perception and the general acceptance of what is normal that sometimes confounds people. But that's how life is: one big pile of weird.

So, the next time you call someone weird, be sure that they are weird. For all you know, you're the weird one.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Sandra Bullock is aging mightily well, no?

Heh?

2009-09-04T21:26:00.005+08:00

If some random person walks up to you, and asks coolly, “How would you describe yourself in 10 words,” what would you say? What would you honestly say?

After recovering from the initial shock of a person, who out of thin air (a bit hazy, too), is asking me about me, I’d say “Huh?” loudly with a look on my face that’s a mix somewhere between a stunned rabbit and a puzzled potato. I guess my answer would be (and said with utmost confidence):

I’m a boring guy with an exciting life.

I sense puzzlement. I’m 25 but I still think like a 24-year-old.

Are you capable of letting complete strangers know who you are in 10 words? Heck, I couldn’t even describe myself in a single blog post. Is it even remotely possible to give them a clear-cut representation of yourself in a sentence? If you’re brave enough you could do the three-word vend: Cool, Content, Confounded. But since I don’t fall into that category, my explanation would include a whole lot of Um’s and Ugh’s.

Coming back to the question: if this was thrown at me during a job interview, I would say that I’m hardworking, conscientious and able to adapt to any situation (except for ones that involve accountants or lawyers) that is presented to me. I do have to sell myself, you know. Of course, in interviews, such cover-ups are sometimes justified, especially if you're currently employed in a draconian company that preys on its minions and you really, really want to get out.

To truly describe what I'm like is to know me. Really. I can be goofier than a college kid high on carbonated drinks and fast food but I can delve into the psyche of someone who is like Donald Trump, minus the silly hair-do, naturally. I wasn't like this, no, it took some time for me to differentiate silly and serious. I interject silliness into serious proceedings once in a while, but only to alleviate the air of pervasive dread and provided if I know the people are fine with a little lighthearted moment. Or two. Or three.

I've noticed that I am a little more juvenile when I'm around my college mates, as they have known me longer and we are able to tolerate each others' ramblings. Around my work mates, though, I'm still me but not as hyper. I guess I'll assess the situation and tweak my character accordingly. There are times where being yourself is the right thing to do but sometimes a little less of your true self can lead to a much better place. Like, for example, being accepted at your potential employer's company!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Ladies, I am cool and confident. Really.

Of flying houses, talking dogs and undying love.

2009-08-28T16:43:00.010+08:00

Over an extremely greasy lunch, a good friend of mine, Marie, and I were discussing about greatest fears and what is ours. I told her that mine is growing old and being alone with no one that loves me (pretty deep, huh?). Of course, being the lovely little thing that she is, told me that I won't be alone as I'll be surrounded by family and friends. I smiled, told her I hope so and continued eating the greasy as heck food. But the feeling of being alone when I'm old lingered.

This feeling came about after watching the brilliant Up. Now, I'm not one to go gaga over an animation but this really hit home. Apart from the beautiful Wall-E, I have not been so touched by such movies. The scenes in Up where the old man and his wife were together just pulled at my heartstrings. It is exactly I how envisioned myself growing old: with a loving wife beside me, with children and their children in the house, (of course, in the movie, that never happened so just bear with me) all happy just to be in each other's company.

The other thing that got to me was when his wife passed away. Can you imagine the love of your life no longer with you? Thinking of it simply saddens me. Have you read stories where an elderly couple died either a few days apart or together? And that they were known to be a loving couple? Those stories touch me and give me hope that one I shall grow old with my one and only.

To the girl out there waiting for me, I'm coming. Let's grow old together.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I hope to be remembered when I die. Or at least be known as the Crazy Uncle Who Terrorised Kids With His Walking Stick.

An open letter to Anger.

2009-08-20T21:41:00.004+08:00

Here’s my attempt at writing one of them Letters post. I hope it doesn’t suck.

Sometimes you don’t need to come out when I’m buying bread, you know. Sure, that old lady was asking for it but you didn’t have to say those words. Likewise the old man when you yelled at him, “Old baggage! Go away before your spleen ruptures from over-excitement!”

There are times where your timing is impeccably dreadful. Like the time that fat kid pushed me aside with a bit too much enthusiasm. You responded well by calling him, “fucking fat kid.” Thankfully, his mother wasn’t within earshot. Too bad about the father being just beside him, though. He got quite the earful, eh? So, Anger, can you please stop being a prick?

Thank you.

That was a short, succinct letter, no? I have a short temper. I get irritated when people do irritating things, for instance, when they irritate me. But I cool down easily, too. I don't like being angry. It perturbs my macho-dude persona very much. While this may sound all Zen-like, and even strange, I'm learning to rein it all in.

For the sake of the person's face I may use my fists on as target practise.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I'm more of a lover than a fighter. Oh, yes I am.

Grab that crotch!

2009-08-14T21:45:00.002+08:00

Caveat: Long as heck post up ahead!

I like beaches.

There's something about having sand underneath your feet, the gentle breeze breathing down your neck, the crisp salty air; it all comes together to create a calming feeling. Of course, after nearly drowning in 20 feet waters makes you appreciate the feet being on land even more.

Last weekend was spent with my mates from work on a team-building expedition that involved the worst team-building activities known to man, the toughest beef from cows who certainly weren't slaughtered with justice, and me jumping into the sea wearing an odorous life jacket with nothing more than a wing and a prayer to the gods of metal.

Man, I miss those times.

The journey began at midnight (there really couldn't be any better time, seriously) with everyone gathered at the foot of Tower 2, KLCC. We boarded the bus full of buzz and departed the hustle and bustle of the city towards tranquillity (oh how we got it wrong) of the island. As sleepy and tired as I was, it took me some time before I could count sheep. Or deer. Some weren't as fortunate, as they battled comfortless chairs and a ride smooth like butter on jagged rocks. We stopped at a little shack by the side of the road for a quick break at the ungodly hour that was 4 a.m. Essentially this was a smoke break for the driver so everybody took this chance to pee into a hole in the ground. The relief was immense across the board. The next 5 hours or so seemed like endless tarmac and gloomy trees as we travelled using the trunk roads which snaked through village after village.

We arrived at the jetty bus-lagged and famished. After eating our less than spectacular breakfast we got on speedboats to the island of Perhentian Kecil. I'm not too fond of the sea (damn you Mr. Spielberg and your Jaws!) so the vastness of the open ocean was quite breathtaking to say the least. But I enjoyed every wave-filled second of it. As we approached the beach a veritable jungle with chalets dotting the surroundings was seen. The view was simply beautiful. I'm not one to fawn over my country's places of interest but this comes highly recommended. Just stay away from the food (more on this below).

As usual, I tend to get the short end of the proverbial stick, but, this time I got to share it with two of my best mates. We're big guys and even with me being the shortest (but most built of the three) the room just barely accommodated us. The beds were small and emanated a strange odour with unidentifiable stains on the sheets. Hmm. Have I forgotten to mention that there wasn't any hot water? Well, we showered with water so cold it froze our extremities. The room was terribly stifling so much so that every single fart lingered for ages. Hmm.

The restaurants and food stores on the island close early. Like, 930 p.m. early. This pissed us all as the food provided by the hotel was first-rate crap. Dinner for the two nights we were there consisted of the most supple beef steaks that could only be cut with swords. There was also endless supplies of chicken necks and vegetables so limp one look turned them into vapour. And don't get me started on the misspellings of the food. Pankages, anyone?

The team-building "training" we had to go through ranks as the pinnacle of terribleness. Granted, we came to the island not wanting to attend any classes but due to the sensitive issue of wanting to claim fully this shebang from the government the team-building aspect necessitated it that we attend the classes. I've never wanted to get out of a class so badly in my life. The trainer was a real douchebag; none of his activities gave us any impetus to do better in our daily work. Heck, it made us even more nonchalant about our colleagues. We obliged his harebrained games that resembled more like clown curriculum (wonderfully said by Waffle Girl) with activities ranging from throwing colourful balls at each other to butchering My Way with about as much passion as watching paint dry in an igloo. Though, it was nothing compared to what he did on the last day of training...

Remember when I said I'm not too fond of water? Well, I strapped on a life jacket and went snorkelling for the very first time. I kid you not. I was frightened as I don't know how to swim and there's something about being in such an open environment with your feet primed for shark attacks that panics me. But once I got over the initial fear of being in the water and breathing through the goggle's tube apparatus it became quite exciting. Heck, after finally peering into my goggles to look beneath the surface of the water to see the fish and the sea it was quite a rush! Thankfully I had Waffle Girl and Billy to help me along as I couldn't think of two better people to share this experience. And save me from drowning, too.

I'm of the opinion that if you take people from out of the office and put them in a completely different setting you'll get to see the other side of them. And, boy, did we get to see some sides. Give them booze and whoosh! they'll be able to crack some of the funniest jokes you thought only black comedians were good at. Of course, there was a deluded individual who tried his hand at comedy but received a big WTF right on his face for telling us utterly inane jokes instead.

On the last day, Sunday, we were required to attend training at 0800. Since we only had less than 3 hours of sleep (thanks to Billy for keeping us awake with his pseudo-male stripper ala Fully Monty antics) even eating breakfast was a battle of trying to not have our heads hit the plates. But by golly nothing, and I mean, NOTHING, prepared us for what was to come. It all started when we came in late, thus we were greeted sarcastically by the rest. We were too knackered to even grin. What followed next defies everything I stand for as a man of principle, a metalhead, and most importantly, a man who hates to dance! The trainer made us do silly exercises which reduced us to kindergarten children. At the very end of the training, I nearly lost it when he broke into song; an impromptu karaoke of a truly annoying Thai song that can only be described as horror of horrors.

As we left the island, I couldn't help but wonder how simple life is on an island; no bloody computer screens, no traffic jams, no idiots, no grinding it out in the big bad city. But that thought lasted till I reached the boat and started thinking of what I'll be doing next. It's a nice thought, but just that. It wasn't so much a holiday, more like a company visit that lasted three days. A holiday would entail relaxation, calm waters and good food. Instead I was weary, nearly drowned in open sea and fear and had crap for sustenance.

But it was damn good fun, man.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: This post took me a week to complete. And it's only half of what truly transpired during the entire trip. Some things are best kept secret. Don't you agree?

Just because you want it badly doesn't mean you deserve it.

2009-08-05T22:30:00.001+08:00

Some people are spoilt rotten.

I am talking about people who want things they cannot get. And these are adults with sensible sensibilities we're talking about here. They desire things they think they want but actually they don't. Desire is confused with actual need.

I am a person who doesn't give in to temptation easily. However, when I do I end up not regretting, but rather, feel a little embarrassed. Take the new pair of working shoes I just bought. They cost me RM250. I already have another pair of shoes that cost just as much. Do I need two of them? I think so. And therein lies the problem: I think I need them. I could've just lived my life with just that initial pair but I chose to purchase the new pair on nothing more than a spur of the moment whim. This here is Desire. (But I have to say that them shoes are pretty friggin' comfortable.)

Or take one of life's most consequential yet potentially most hurtful conundrum: Relationships. It can disappoint you like no other. Be that as it may, it can be the most fulfilling and wondrous thing a person will ever experience.

I wonder how on earth can some people get together with just the snap of the fingers. Did something set off in their unconscious mind that told them, yes, lets get together! Why was it so simple for them and not others? I know one story where one party really and truly liked another with all the might in the world but each time disappointment was met as there was little to no response. (Granted, the pursuer is rather hopeless in the game thus didn't realise that maybe a little more perception would've been beneficiary to the cause, but, lets not dwell on that.) Despite all the setbacks, the person hasn't given up and gets back up each time. Any normal, sane person would've (in fact, should've) given up after the third strike. But not this person. Don't know how to give up, the person said. A veritable never-give-up attitude is strong in this one, doesn't understand the meaning of surrender.

Commendable but still rather myopic, aye?

The question this person has to answer is this: is your heart and mind the same? Are they both in synergy? Guys have a tendency to use their other head to think so getting it right is paramount. Most importantly, do you want the other person because you think you want or do you genuinely, with all your heart, know that all the pain, tears and suffering of the pursuit is all worth it?* These are questions that need to be addressed and answered otherwise there's no point in pursuing in the first place.

Last question: how do you know that the right decision isn't the wrong one? Think about it, people, do we really need what we feel we want?

I know what I need. How about you?

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Am posting this early as I'll be off on official work-related holiday. Whatever that means. Have a nice weekend, everyone!

* - The answer may surprise a lot of people. Maybe it won't.

Son, you gotta put that dumbbell down.

2009-07-31T21:30:00.002+08:00

Family and friends think I'm a peculiarity. More so when I whip out my pink Tupperware at 3:30pm sharp every week day and they find a chicken sandwich. I don't blame them. Their eyes get even bigger when I tell them I eat 6 meals a day, spread over a 3-4 hour interval. And when they find out I don't eat fast-food or imbibe carbonated drinks they'll burst a vein. An apoplectic fit is experienced when I mention that the gym is my "Happy Place".

What's the use of being able to lift 100kgs with your back? Or why does one curl a 15kg dumbbell to their shoulders? Why do we see so many men and women do a million sit-ups yet still have beer bellies? Because people like them and me are nothing more but a bunch of narcissists. We are vain. We are aroused by compliments from family and friends. Our own volition drives us to pretty ourselves.

All in the name of health, of course.

It's been nearly 2 weeks since I've touched let alone lifted a dumbbell. And it feels good. Nay, it feels absolutely fucking great! Ever since I got back from my last holiday trip, I've become less obsessed with gym. If I don't go today, I'll go tomorrow. If that doesn't happen then I'll just do it when I can. In the gym I am very pedantic and idiosyncratic about how I go about my training. It's unorthodox to say the least. I won't bore you with the exactness of my regime but think of it this way: I have a regime that doesn't follow a set pattern but I have everything planned out beforehand. Pardon me if you're puzzled. Although, lately, I've been slacking. My once unyielding mind now gives way to random thoughts. Jogging and running have always been a favourite; I just love how it allows my mind to wander and ponder about things but even those two don't seem to do the trick these days.

Perhaps this is what a gym burnout feels like. This has never happened before. Once, when I fell ill with a fever hot enough to cook eggs, I still worked out albeit with an intensity equivalent to a baby crawling over 10 metres. Heck, when I nearly dislocated my right shoulder, I stopped for a week but resumed heavy lifting the following week. But this is a different feeling altogether and it's worrisome.

Admittedly, I'm having difficulty staying completely focused. I'll go from one thing to another; work problems to problems of the mind and heart. I'll be jogging at 10km/h with a 5% incline and while I'm gasping for air the aforesaid problems come into play, sometimes in my field of vision, and there I am, trying to wrench them away lest they make me trip and fall. That will not be nice at all.

Life's to be blamed for all of this. Yes, you've read that right: Life. But that's juvenile. Life is to be blamed and commended. Without Life, I wouldn't be here, whining like a kid who's lost his lollipop. And without Life, I wouldn't be grateful for the life I have now (albeit it stinks a little now). I guess putting down them dumbbells have been the best thing since lifting them in the first place.

My so-called "happy place" was never the gym. It is where I am most comfortable.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: People, I am gym NUT, not a FREAK. For, if I were a freak, I won't be here. I reiterate: I much rather hang out at a nice bar or Starbucks if the chance presented itself.

Any takers?

Red Devils are amongst us!

2009-07-24T23:59:00.001+08:00

Football.

This one word alone conjures a wide spectrum of feelings: excitement, passion, commitment, anger, disbelief, pride, and even love.

Yes, 22 men chasing after a ball on a field can do that to a person.

As many of you should know by now, I support Manchester United (MUnited), arguably the greatest club in the world (thank you very much). And on 18th July 2009, I witnessed them in the flesh (albeit a good 500 metres away) plying their trade against the Malaysian national team. It was an all right match; MUnited played their usual game on 10% effort whereas the Malaysians played as though their heads were attached to a bomb. Everybody knew that MUnited held back a lot so as to not embarrass the host nation but we caught glimpses of the genius of the players. But guess what? We actually played well! Kudos goes to the curi ayam dude wearing number 17.

The day started out hazy and although it was not blistering hot it was the humidity that totally drove everyone bonkers. Sweat trickled down my forehead and unto my feet. Every pore opened up like someone forgetting to turn off the tap. The people with me didn't fare much better as they had to battle their own bursting dams. We cheered every time someone warmed. We cheered even louder when the match began and I remember losing it when Michael Owen (quite the diminutive this fella) scored the winning goal 5 minutes before time.

It was bloody sensational.

Of course, not everyone will understand. You either get it or you don't. Come football season you'll notice a lot of sleep deprived faces, people with tempers flying about (attributed to their team losing i.e. Liverpool falling spectacularly to MUnited!), maybe even a brawl or two when rival teams clash over who has the better free-kick style. I just hope that my future partner is understanding enough and while I would love to spend as much time with her as possible there comes a time a man has to do what a man needs to do.

Buy a gift for her and dinner.

But that's how it is. Football is intangible yet completely full of feel. Most of all, football fucking rules! Here's to the upcoming season!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: To all the peeps who came along for the ride, Angie and et al, thanks for sharing this experience. Next one will be even better, I'm sure of it. Glory, Glory Manchester United!

You never know till you've tried.

2009-07-17T10:45:00.003+08:00

"Life's like a box of chocolates; you never know what you're gonna get," so goes the saying from Forrest Gump.

Never a more apt saying for life has been said.

I, on the other hand, would've said, "Life's like a box of shrooms; you never know what you're going to hallucinate."

Anyway, life's been a real box of surprises. One minute when I think everything's dandy, something gets thrown into the mix and switches everything up. Sometimes it's a nice and pleasant surprise. Sometimes they've been painful. This year has seen me at the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Yet I still come back for more. Guess that makes me a sucker for punishment, eh?

The problem with me is that I can be obtusely obstinate. I can be very aware of things and my surroundings but there have been times where I have been so myopic it's ridiculous. Like, for instance, the complete eagerness and earnestness of me trying to please this girl (she's a nutjob now so there's no need to pity me) that I didn't realise I was being made a fool. But I kept going on and on till one day it dawned upon me that she's just a waste of time and effort (money more so as I was still in college and perpetually broke) so I fucked it, moved forward and never once looked back. In these kind of situations, it'll take something really drastic to make me see sense and it has to get knocked into my thick skull with much force otherwise I'll go on still. Or, if she says stay the fuck away from me, then that's my cue to scram the fuck away.

In simpler words: as much as I would like to give up, I don't know how, so, I might as well just go on and see what happens. Good or bad, I need to know the answer. The worst thing is not trying. There's nothing worse than to regret something you didn't even try. If things don't work out, feel sorry for a bit, cry a little if you want to but make sure you pick yourself up and move on. And be absolutely certain that no one gets hurt (or stays hurt) to eliminate any awkwardness in the future. The last thing you want is to have an estranged relationship with the person you've made a startling confession to as it will lead to nowhere.

Go on, give that box of chocolates another peek. It might give you another surprise. You never really know till you've tried.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: 2009 is shaping up to be the most eclectic year, ever. Don't you agree?

Chris's Guide to Ask a Girl for a Movie and Possibly Tea.

2009-07-13T23:00:00.000+08:00

Actually, I mislead.

This post is about things I've noticed in my years of being an observant (read: inquisitive) person:

People with handphones/mobiles: The younger you are the further away you see the screen. The older you are the closer your nose is to the screen. I've seen old men go all squinty-eyed when reading a text message. They'll push up their glasses, squeeze their eyeballs till they're about to pop and mouth the words of the text. Sometimes loudly. I hope I don't end up like them.
Don't you just hate it when people expect you to give way on the escalator, with nary an "Excuse me," while the steps are conveniently located next to it? Guess what? You're a lazy ass!
Queuing up sucks. Even if it's just one person ahead of you, it still sucks. But if you're lining up to buy your favourite burnt-to-a-crisp pancake, for the life of me, don't stand so near me! What makes you think I will go any faster by knocking your chest on me? In fact, I will purposely make your life slower by being an ass myself. This applies to all the morons and airheads who are lining up with me at the ATMs, movies, supermarkets and general queue-up-ness.
To all the short guys who try to out muscle me: give it up. Now.
When I'm in a semi-swanky shop, for instance, Gap, do not look at me as though I cannot afford your overly priced, Made in Cambodia, clothes. I can. So if you ignore or size me up, you are in trouble. Also, do not follow me around like I'm going to pull a Winona Ryder. I do not need to steal underwear.
How does putting up your collar make you look cooler? I think I've said this before in an earlier post but this bears repeating: putting it up makes you look like a dumb dog who can't help it but bite its own tail for comfort.

I think 6 rants shall suffice for now. Till the next rant list!

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Guys, if you want to ask a girl out on a date, just ask. It's as simple as that.

Moonwalking to the stars, moon and beyond.

2009-07-08T22:05:00.002+08:00

The one and only, Michael Jackson.

The feeling is very odd. It's like waking up one gloomy morning and thinking you're missing something but you can't quite put your finger on. You think to yourself, hmm, what the heck is it. Then it hits you. Ah, I left the keys in the car. Again.

Bad analogy, I know, but it's the best I can come up with.

Michael Jackson is no longer on this planet. Weird, right? One minute we (yes, YOU and I are the guilty ones) are ridiculing him the next we are stupefied by the news of his death, jaws agape. I remember going to work thinking, "huh?" and when I met Waffle Girl for breakfast she was visibly stunned by the news (she still is). I was nonchalant, I mean, lets be real.: yes, he did come up with some of the catchiest, timeless pop songs ever but why would his death bring you to tears? What did he do besides entertaining you for but only a few minutes every time one of his songs was played on the radio? If I sound insensitive then so be it. I won't hide the fact that I didn't feel anything when official news announced the death.

However, the surreality of it didn't hit me until recently. Like how I left my keys in the car, twice, whence I was in college, hearing people refer to him in past tense seems like an odd thing. It didn't sound right. So I can only imagine what his family and his children are going through.

I'm surprised that there has been no dissertation of some sort on the songs that he wrote. Just read the lyrics to You are Not Alone, Leave Me Alone, Stranger in Moscow and the like, and you'll find a man who has everything and nothing. All the money and adoration yet he was a tortured soul. His past shaped him but you would never have known it due to the fact that he was such a tremendous entertainer than you forget he is mortal. You think, "hmm, this is a sad song sung beautifully." But have you even listened to it properly?

Unquestionably, he loved children so much so that ofttimes people thought he was a pervert, a monster, child eater. No, he viewed children as who they were. In essence, Michael was indeed a man-child in a man's world. Neverland was an escape from the real world. It was his refuge, haven from all the bad of the world. And he brought children inside to show them joy that he never got to experience. For that, I give him my utmost sympathy and acknowledgment.

I can only relate to his childhood, or rather, the non-existent one. Not the early fame, of course, when I was five I was still chewing on my Ziggy toy whereas he was belting out hit tunes. But I can relate to the loneliness and the longing for father-and-son moments. They never came but we had hope. Which is why I am driven to be the best father to my unborn child(ren) and give them the childhood I should have had.

I was and most likely never will be a fan of his. Nonetheless, I'll always respect his works no matter what. After all, growing up in the 90's it was near impossible to not like any of his songs. The King of Pop reigned supreme.

Rest in peace, Michael Jackson.

This is Chris, moonwalking...

PS: ...tried moonwalking but I ended up tripping and falling on my butt. Damn.

Devil horns and bhangra. Who knew it could be good?

2009-07-04T08:20:00.004+08:00

Music makes the world go round.

I thought it was because it was spinning on its own axis?

Wise-ass remark aside, music has left an incredibly profound impact on my life. I grew up listening to classical and oldies courtesy of my dad while I was forced to listen to my sisters' favourite 80's and 90's pop. Of course, you now know me as the most unmetal-looking metalhead.

So is it a funny image if I were to tell you that this metalhead actually enjoyed fusion music last night? Let me be more specific: this metalhead enjoyed local fusion music that combined bhangra and modern sensibilities? Oh, I also forgot bagpipes. The Diplomats of Drum performed at The Curve and I was there with my friends. I've always had a thing for live performances, especially if it involves instruments and not 5 pretty boys lip-synching and dancing in tandem to standard beats. No, this was something special. After a lifeless demonstration on Capoeira which had exponents performing windmills on each other, came the main attraction.

I didn't know what to expect so I sat on my high stool and waited. The wait, humidity and smoky surrounding was worth it. Remember all the Bollywood movies you've watched? Remember the music? The unmistakable rhythm of the drum beat? Now hold that sound and add in guitar riffs, flutes, a didgeridoo and massive amounts of melody and you'll probably get a whiff of what the music is. If you're having a tough time then it's only understandable. It's not like this kind of music gets played on the airwaves at all. When it comes to local bands I will be wary always as a good chunk are just bad imitators of their influence.

But not this band.

The only downside of an otherwise brilliant performance was the audience. It has to be said that Malaysians are idiots, morons and general dumbasses when it comes to live performances. The people just sat on their seats, drinking and smoking, while the band kept urging them to get on their feet and wave their hands. What's the reason for our ineptitude and lassitude? "We're a shy people, we don't do that sort of thing." No wonder Singapore still gets all the action. C'mon! You have a great band who plays great music and there you are nodding gently. There I was, unleashing the devil horn on one hand while the other clutched a Heineken* looking like a poseur. But I didn't give a right damn as I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Ginormous kudos and devil horns to the Diplomats and their Drums. You've made me a fan.

This is Chris, signing off.

* = Did I really look that red? Damnit, I still can't drink for nuts.

PS: I wonder if the Diplomats wouldn't mind having me doing vocals...

The middle is upon us!

2009-06-28T12:49:00.000+08:00

Man, 2009 sure has been one thoroughly interesting year, hasn't it? It's the year that I turn the big 2 and 5. 25, to me, is neither old or young. It's a good number. It has a nice ring to it, no?

Actually, it sucks.

There's just not enough time to do everything that I like. Gym time has been severely hit as work is piling up (I'm not a fan of working out on weekends as the second statement shows why). To hang out I will need to check in advance as there's only so much time in a weekend to meet up with friends and family. But being 25 also means more responsibility. In my last post, I mentioned that an old friend of mine is doing well career- and life- wise. Cool, eh? Here I am thinking about the next outing whereas he and other people like him are changing diapers. Work has been up and down. Admittedly, there are more downs than ups. I keep telling myself that in 10 years' time I'll look back at all this and just smile. "I went through all that shit to get to this level so suck it up!" will be mantra that I will tell to all the wide-eyed trainees under me. Maintaining a positive mind is a must in such situations lest I let my anger to take over me. To paraphrase one big green dude said, you won't like it when I'm angry...

My feelings and thoughts have been a real tangled mess the past few months. I can't explain them here for highly personal reasons but to those who know a bit and who've helped me along the way, thank you. I really wanted to write an insightful and long post but I think I've said enough.

I wonder what the second half of the year will bring. I hope it's good stuff*.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I wish good things upon you, too.