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

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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...

...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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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?

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.

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?