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

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

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

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

Where the wild things are not...

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

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

How awesomely mad could I be back then?

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfred Nobel must be turning in his grave right now.

This is Chris, signing off.

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

I am thankful.

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

I threw it on the floor.

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

It didn't.

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

Will I survive?

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

It wasn't that bad after all!

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

Wow, indeed.

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

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

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

I just need to remember to eat.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: 3 more months and it's 2010!

From nought to 300mph...

The last week has been simply and utterly...

FUCKED.

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

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

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

Selamat Hari Raya!

This is Chris, signing off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: Sandra Bullock is aging mightily well, no?

Heh?

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

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

I’m a boring guy with an exciting life.

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

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

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

Of flying houses, talking dogs and undying love.

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

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

An open letter to Anger.

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

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

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

Thank you.

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

Grab that crotch!

Caveat: Long as heck post up ahead!

I like beaches.

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

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

Man, I miss those times.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it was damn good fun, man.

This is Chris, signing off.

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

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

Some people are spoilt rotten.

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

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

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

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

Commendable but still rather myopic, aye?

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

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

I know what I need. How about you?

This is Chris, signing off.

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

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

Son, you gotta put that dumbbell down.

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

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

All in the name of health, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

Any takers?

Red Devils are amongst us!

Football.

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

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

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

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

It was bloody sensational.

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

Buy a gift for her and dinner.

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

You never know till you've tried.

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

Never a more apt saying for life has been said.

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

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

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

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

Actually, I mislead.

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

Moonwalking to the stars, moon and beyond.

The one and only, Michael Jackson.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rest in peace, Michael Jackson.

This is Chris, moonwalking...

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

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

Music makes the world go round.

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

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

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

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

But not this band.

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

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

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

The middle is upon us!

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

Actually, it sucks.

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

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

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

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I wish good things upon you, too.

I would shake your hand, friend.

He was a playboy, this person is. He was known to flirt with every female that came his way, even with friends' girls, trying his best to win them over with his charm and wit which he had in spades. And, boy, did he had them. If that wasn't enough, he was blessed with looks that could kill and a smile that could light up a house. Oh, he has a killer body, too. Some people have all the luck, eh?

Unfortunately, this is what most people think when they see him. Everything is untrue except for the charisma and appearance.

You see, back in the day, this guy was a real showboat; every single thing about him screamed "jock!" It didn't help that I had a little crisis with my own looks so when he came strutting into a room, I would groan and say fuck softly. He was always smartly dressed whereas I was content with my creased as can be shirt. He had the girls mesmerised while the guys wanted to be his best bud. The thing that always got to me was his holier-than-thou attitude. Come presentation time, he would lead his team and present a slick and engaging topic. He had the confidence and the panache to pull it all off. Did I forget to mention that he is also smart as heck?

There was this innate animosity between us, like how a gorilla when upon seeing another gorilla will want to puff up its chest and start pounding it silly. Well, I was a chubby, clumsy and comical gorilla whereas he was a silverback. This continued for some time but it died slowly and surely as we got older. So you can only imagine how far and hard my jaw dropped when I found out he is married and now has child! He, of all people, has settled down and is now a proud father. I didn't have his number otherwise I would've called and congratulated him.

I hated him, but why? you may ask. Back then I would've said that he was a damn prick. But now it all seems like trivial dribble. All the piercing glares we gave each other and the inane posturing all are a distant memory. I've always had a deep respect for him and his methods even though I agreed with them less than half the time.

So I raise my cup of milk and congratulate wholeheartedly to you, the missus and your newborn. Have a blessed life and hopefully we'll have a coffee together some day.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: I am humbled.