Holding on to what I haven’t got.

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?

Taking a break from blogging...

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?

A welcome break.

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. 

And on this day...

...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.

Friends fighting with friends ain't nice.

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.

What? It's April already?

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!

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

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.

Men are pussies.

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?

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

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.

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

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.

You never know till you've tried.

"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?

Guess work can only take you so far.

If I were to give you a task, say, baking a cake, you would most probably be scratching your head. Bake a cake? Me? I don't even know how to turn on the oven. But you give it a go nonetheless. A simple chocolate cake. After all, the end product is something edible and hopefully won't poison me.

Would you like it if I gave you a picture of a chocolate cake and asked you to come up with something similar to it in terms of taste and look? Wait, scrap that something similar bit. I want you to come up with a chocolate cake that looks exactly to the picture in terms of taste and look. How's about that?

What the fucking fuck?!

Would you like it if I gave you something to do but with nary a guide or a pointer, would you like it? You'd probably lambaste me to kingdom come! You really don't care, eh? You really think of me as a lackey boy, always ready to be whipped on the behind just when things go awry? So what if the cake doesn't look like yours, hell, you think I'm the kind of person who does half-bake jobs? (Pardon the pun.)

You then blame me for not asking you how to do it when in the first place you were the one who was supposed to provide me with at least the basic directions. You want my help yet you don't even know how to be courteous enough by giving me tips. This is worse than being selfish; this is plain insidious.

At the end of the day, I just don't have the same ingredients as you, my chocolate is probably not as good as yours. You could be using freaking Godiva while here I am using RM2.00 Cadbury chocolate that's a month shy of expiring.

So what we have here now is a chocolate cake that resembles yours but still isn't quite right. Is it my fault? Maybe. Maybe I should've bugged you to death to help me but I know you. You don't give a shit until shit hits the ceiling.

Do not ever mistake my smile as benignity.

I might just do something really unfortunate to you.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I am going to deadlift 80kgs this week, damnit!

I have nothing nice to say.

Sigh, another screwed up week is ahead.

Hope yours is better.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Can Manchester United not continue to disappoint me?

Up in flames, they'll be...

...if I had it my way, of course.

Some people just don't deserve to be where they are, yet there they are, sipping on wine bought on money from others' blood and sacrifice. You know these people: they brag, they lie and cheat and they wield a knife to the back of unsuspecting people when it suits their agenda.

I call them swines.

Wait, that's an insult to all cuddly non-pork-destined pigs. These people are parasites; they come, attach themselves to a suitable hosts, suck their vigour and leave them dry and weary when they're done. On to the next victim till they've reached their goals.

I'd like to believe that they will receive their comeuppance, a fitting punishment for their unscrupulous dealings on hapless people who are honest and modest in nature. But we live in a world that is increasingly vicious. It seems that justice is about as common as a man with principles of steel. Its existence is threatened. Greed and jealousy shall be the common denominator from now on.

The corporate ladder never looked so perilous.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: This post is dedicated to all the fighters in the working world out there. You know who you are.

Please excuse me for a while, I need to mourn.

Despondency may be a fancy word but it fully encompasses what I'm feeling right now. Why?

Look no further than these here links:

Sportinglife
Times Online
Guardian
ESPNSoccernet

But due praise must be said when it is deserved. Liverpool, you were definitely the better team contrary to what The Gaffer might say.

However, winning battles don't win titles. You have to win the war.

I sound like am asinine fiction writer.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I want to eat salmon, damnit!

I look like a misshapen egg.

February came and went like a thunderstorm decimating everything in its path.

Including my hair. I look like this here fella. If only I had the money to boot...

Last month was filled with one incident after another. It was one problem right after the other and while it may look trivial now--petty even--when those things happened it brought back painful memories. I put on a smiling face whenever I was in the office, but only a select few knew what was really going on. Even then they only knew the surface; the bottom was too deep for any of them.

If only that happened every month! (Every month when I work, that is!)

I could do without the drama, of course. I would love to go in work, do my job, get home, sleep and repeat the brutal cycle the next day. Without feeling like a complete wreck. What's the point of going to bed dreading what's to come?

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: 2 in the bag, 3 more to go. Come on, Red Devils!

Ah, that good ole feeling.

I'm trying to read 3 books at once, as can be seen on the right-hand side of the screen. And I remember them! Mostly, anyway. More on this later.

Last week was a thoroughly tiring week. It was a week where I really wanted to get out of the office as early as possible but couldn't. In fact, I ended up being in the office for 12 hours, 3 days in a row! While I know that some of you and many others have experienced this, for me to do that many hours is something unusual considering the situation I'm in. It may sound trivial to those who've worked those hours, some on a constant basis, but this is my blog so I'm going to rant as much as I want.

Phew.

Back to the beginning: it's been a long time since I've had this much fun reading 3 books at once, no less! I normally have to be in the right mood and frame of mind before I can even open a book but the last few days have been nothing but literary goodness. It also does help that football tends to start at 0130 so I have time to kill till kick-off.

Have a productive week ahead.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: NEVER, EVER deadlift with your back curved. Lest you want to walk like a disoriented crab.

It's like trying to pee with your underwear on.

A young girl got up the bus all smiles on a rather moody Monday. She frantically dug her purse for RM1 and when she couldn't produce the money, smiled at the bus driver and the rest of the passengers sheepishly, embarrassed.

Are you, like, bloody dim or something?

I mean, c'mon, you know you're going to board a bus. You know you have to pay for the ride. You know you have to be prepared for such incident because, frankly, you don't just get on the friggin' bus, hoping you'll find RM1 in your damn purse or wherever you put your money in.

Anyway, I'm still lethargic from all the happenings lately; the house is still behind with the contractor being rather slow. Work is stagnant, as usual, but I've two rather big cases to handle, so those are going to keep me occupied until at least the end of this week. After that? Who knows, I might be sent for training.

Yeah, right!!!

Have a productive week ahead.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Losing is one thing, but to lose to a team you absolutely abhor with all your might? Man, it sucks tremendously.

A storm is brewing and it ain't tea-flavoured.

Okay...that didn't really make much sense but it does sound kind of catchy. Right?

Here's a quick recap of what transpired last week:

• Saw a teenager getting beaten up. I saw the whole thing. The more I wanted to look away, the more I looked. It was surreal. You know that getting a kick in the head would hurt, yeah? Try getting your head kicked at least five times.
• House is under renovation so I've no door to my room which makes it hard to put on trousers when you have, like, four construction workers going back and forth fixing things.
  

I think I'm on the verge of a burnout. A mental one. I can feel that my brain is not there. Y'know what I mean? I tend to ruminate things too often and too deeply nowadays. And I get into a weird reverie where my mind wanders wantonly. I even harbour deep resentment over things I won't divulge here. I find this rather unnerving because I know this isn't good for the soul in the long run.

It's high time I go on a vacation. Any one care to join me?

I promise I won't be crazy. Much.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I hate it when my tummy feels bloated. Blurgh...

Everybody Hates Chris. I'm being overly dramatic, by the way...

What an absolutely horrible week it has been. Let me correct that:

It’s been an absolutely fucked up week.

Both my personal and work life was in turmoil. Even my country, the US of A and the world were experiencing a bad week. Heck, even my tummy joined in the action! Urm…

When I crack jokes, or when I’m basically acting myself, people tend to forget that I actually have a serious side. They assume that I’m this jolly, happy-go-fucking-lucky guy and that I would kowtow to their whims when they find it appropriate to their needs. Well, boo-fuck-de-doo, I can be an outright bastard when pushed too far. They take it for granted that I’m a fairly nice guy and I’ll hold the door for you, but if you treat me like dirt, then that door would probably come slamming onto your face. Oops, I didn’t know you were behind me.

It’s as though all the females that I know have experienced some sort of dilemma/crisis this week. My big sis has been clocking 16-hour workdays and it’s about to take its toll on her. I know my colleagues have been swamped with work (Hello! What la your boss…tsk, tsk) of which it’s about to get worse because of the impending holidays. My ex, a wonderful girl whom I still keep in contact with—contrary to what many thought wasn’t possible—has some issues of her own*. I was also not spared from online unpleasantness, as I was on the receiving end of a highly unfortunate conversation that took place with a dear friend**.

But to sum up my week: it’s like thinking that you have a shot with the girl of your dreams. You think, if we get together, we’ll make a great couple. So you formulate your next move, the move that will change your life and hers. Your heart skips two beats whenever you think about her. It’s that beautiful face and that beautiful soul of hers that makes you think it’s all worth while. Guess I’ll make my move, but…then, you see her walking towards you. With her boyfriend. It’s like having a sword cut right through your heart, but you don’t die.

You just end up suffering.

This week, I’ve been angry, disappointed, and happy; all at the same time, for five days straight. I so can’t wait for next week and see what “joy” it’ll bring.

Till then, have a great weekend, people. You deserve it.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Thank you, J, for being the sponge of my idiotic emoness. Thanks for replying all my silly messages on MSN. I greatly appreciate your views. Fill—thanks, man, for listening to me. I guess we’re even now. :)

* = (Hey there, gorgeous, I’m always ready to listen ;-))
** = I know how you feel. I really, really do.