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.
Sunday, 29 August 2010
Sunday, 22 August 2010
When you pick up a can of tuna, spare a thought to the British girl who cleaned it.
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.
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.
Monday, 16 August 2010
We are all Expendable.
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.
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.
Sunday, 8 August 2010
Happy 1st. :)
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.
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.
Saturday, 31 July 2010
Do well and you'll be rewarded. But not this year. Too bad you joined late, eh?
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.
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.
Sunday, 25 July 2010
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:
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Good friends come and go. True friends remain.
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.
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.
Sunday, 11 July 2010
In football, we trust.
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!
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!
Sunday, 4 July 2010
How do you say victory in German?
4 - 0.
Have a good week, people!
This is Chris, signing off.
P.S: Finally, the World Cup ignites! Vuvuzelas be damned!
Have a good week, people!
This is Chris, signing off.
P.S: Finally, the World Cup ignites! Vuvuzelas be damned!
Sunday, 27 June 2010
Zee Germans are here!
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!
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!
Sunday, 20 June 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 13 June 2010
What's round, has loads of fans, and is called football? Ugh. It's the World Cup!
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:
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.
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
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.
Sunday, 6 June 2010
You can't always get what you want...
...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!
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!
Sunday, 30 May 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 23 May 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 16 May 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 9 May 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, 2 May 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, 24 April 2010
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!
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!
Friday, 16 April 2010
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.
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.
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