Post Christmas Post-Mortem

7 birds of chicken. 6 kg of mutton. 5 bags of flour. 4 family members. 3 consecutive days of shopping. 2 narrating personalities. ONE MISSION: Christmas.

( the following post mortem may contain extremely typical and corny details)

First thing's first. Albert must beg your forgiveness for not blogging last week. Also for the last angst-ridden, pre-christmas depression tainted posting. He forgot about Christmas food. Hence, Christmas was a blast.

Well, he has been really busy these past few days. Helping out in the cooking really. But he didnt cook of course, festive dishes are way out of his league, eventhough he can cook. Owh no. Festive dishes are in a class of their own compared to day-to-day cooking. In his mother's class to be specific. When she really cooks, like during a special occasion like this, she SERIOUSLY cooks. Your familiar Indian meat dishes are elevated to heights only a true connoisseur can scale. People like Albert can only dream he could cook like his mom. Wanna know how its like to work in a pressure-cooker kitchen where speed and only the best will do, huh?

Huge amounts of steam billowly rises as the Master Chef punishes the wok with the heavy whippings of her ladle. "Tomato," she utters in a authoritative tone.

The Kitchen boy ignores the perspiration trickling down his face, he instinctively grabs a tomato, removes the pith skillfully with a knife, chops it, and hands it to the Master Chef. Tension freezes the muscles in his face, as the Master chef scans the tomatos, knowing exactly what to look for, and what shouldnt be there. She dumps it into the gurgling curry. Without a word. He heaves a sigh of relief, and has a total of 2 seconds to compose himself, before he is faced with another task demanding more precision and speed.

This goes on for a couple of days, until all cooking were finished. But he has to say, the Devil curry packed more of a punch than a certain football team that goes by similar a name. Just sucking on that piece of mutton bone, feeling every bit like his ancestral predescesors. The bone marrow was simply devine. Truly an Indian delicacy. The curry was fantastic too, especially since she ditched her usual health consciousness and decided for sinful delights like the ones Albert enjoyed. Only once a year, such food. Sigh.

Then of course, was church. There was this 200 strong choir, who gave Albert repeated goosebumps when they sang every song with with a certain devine grandeur. Now this is how you deliver the Christmas message.

So what did he get for Christmas? Nothing actually. But he has many things to be thankful for. His hair for instance. It has never been this long in his entire life. Which is a good thing. And he can keep it this long. Until school of course. And if you followed the previous post, you would know that his mum was trying to switch his school. But the whole thing seems like its going to fall through(not gonna happen). Something about the policy of the other school. Or whatever, he is just happy that he gets to finish his last year at SS17. And he cant wait to get back to school.

And, before he starts getting sentimental, he has to restrain himself, because in the next post he shall give his faithfull readers a recap of the whole year, and his new year resolution, and it will be the longest thing ever, so for now, Happy New Year 2007!!

"Im having me, a blue, christmas....."

Its that time of the year again, the most hyped up festive season of the year. The smell of money fills the air, as businesses cashes in on all the last minute shopping, and of course, that fat man in the red-suit will start making appearances on TV, malls, and basically anywhere that will support the weight of this obese bugger. Ah, its Christmas time. Again.

Dont get Albert wrong, he is all excited about Christmas. OK, maybe not really. Alright he isnt in anyway interested in the whole elaborate charade that has become of Christmas. But if you do celebrate Christmas, are you really excited about something you've been doing the exact same way every year? Oh well, who is he kidding anyway, its Christmas, of course you people would be beside yourself with anticipation, and if you are, you would'nt in the slightest way be out of place. Well, Albert used to be like you.

He remembers being that bright eyed 7 year old who got all excited about the 30 year old Christmas tree that has become a family heirloom. Decorating it, whilst breaking something in the process. Baking the cookies. Helping out in the kitchen(yeah, cooking used to be a real thrill for him). Coming down the stairs on Christmas day, spotting the presents under the tree, "accidentally" opening his brother's present. All the people that came by his house on that day, and the "ang pou"s he'd get. That was fun. That used to be fun.

Nowadays, it just turns into a weary sense of repetitive dejavu. Its like people who sort of turn back time and relive their day. And they would be able predict everything right before it happens. Just that feeling of being just very detached from it all, and it just happens around you, but you feel alien to it all, like you just dont understand why everyone is cheery and excited, or maybe they are faking it just like how you are, because you just dont want to put a damper on their jolly spirits.

Every year its the same thing. The most annoying reoccurance is probably the tv shows. Those stupid, stupid Christamas tv shows. All pretentiously driving home the message of the "true spirit of Christmas" through stories revolving around an obese stranger in a red suit with an obnoxious laugh forcing himself down your chimney in the middle of the night to drop of presents under your Christmas tree. Sorta like an eccentric DHL man. With an obnoxious laugh. Owh yeah, your suppose to leave him milk and cookies too. Somewhere along these lines lies the "true spirit of Christmas". For goodness sake, if anyone wanted to know the true meaning of Christmas, they, would, go, to, church. Unless of course, they are too busy watching those stupid, stupid, Christmas tv shows. He hates national tv.

Alright, enough Santa bashing. Its just that Santa best represents the misrepresentation of Christmas. But thats not really the problem. Not entirely.

At the time of this posting, there is exactly 10 days to Christmas. In between, there will be all that cooking and cleaning and baking. He will practically go on auto-pilot mode, that is the ONLY way to survive Christmas. On Christmas, he shall hide in the kitchen to avoid any sort of adult conversation, he doesnt know about you, but the adults he knows, are witless, dull, boring conversationalists. They suck the very life out of you. If they at least "compensate" it with money in packets, it wont be half as bad, but it seems that somewhere along the line they just stopped giving anything. What happened to the THEIR Christmas spirit?!! Alright, so Albert is guilty of losing his Christmas cheer too. But can you blame him?

Well, he isnt exactly against the whole idea of Christmas. Its just this whole elaborate charade, is just weighing down on his spirits. Well, at least, no matter how down he gets, he can always look forward to school aint it? Not this time. His mom is hell bent on changing his school, she came close last year, it seems she might actually finish the job this year. Its amazing how you can take certain things for granted, and only realize its true value in your life once you've lost it. Yeah, bummer.

So theres is absolutely nothing for him this Christmas. But dont let him put a damper on your Christmas. He's sure all you guys are gonna have one heck of a Christmas.

Soo.

Yeah.

Whatever, Merry Christmas to you too.

Senior's party

Yeah, Albert knows what your're thinking. Another party. But hey, Manishya asked him to go, and you really dont say no to a gal like that.

Alright, straight to the main event shall we. Well, the weather was predictably overcast. He did some walking before entering the lobby of Lakeview Club. He was already going over all the superlatives he was gonna use to describe the girl that would be waiting at the reception. He found out later that it really wouldnt matter.

He strolled in, hoping he didnt walk into the wrong building, considering his terrible sense of direction, then he saw Shannon, who gave him his ticket. Manishya's familiar voice came from somewhere telling him to have a seat at the lobby , he didnt really notice her, alredy making his way to the lobby. He sat heavily, and was suddenly overcome with nervousness.

As he was playing with his handphone, he glimpsed a pair of gorgoues legs sprouting from 3 inch heels, he looked up to see the owner of those legs. He didnt deserve the sight, but there it was, in all her glory, fitted into a tight, tiny black, glittery dress. She flashed him a smile, he looked on stupefied. Time grinded to a halt, his heart skipped a beat(maybe more), white noice filled his brain, it was as tho the very spirit of every male that ever acknowledged the highest form aesthetic beauty that is the female culminated in this very moment, this blip in the fabric of time through all eternity. With such a burden on Albert's back to express this into a sentence that includes adjectives and superlatives that was due to the Godsent creature in front him, what does he say?

"I..I...you..you...look....WHOA!!!"

Inspirational indeed.

So as he tried patheticly to make conversation while his mind was still in a state of flux, people filled the room, and finally Albert too went into the room, just feeling the blood finally flow back into his brain. As he entered the room, the song "Promiscuos" was playing in the background. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand.( refer to previous post "Take The Lead, Please; about dancing)

As people were filling up the room, he started to feel somewhat out of place being the only 4th former. Then Raveen provided some much needed company. He appreciated that. Then the DJ announced that the food was ready to be savaged, and he dint have to say twice. So Albert ate, exchanged pleasentries while at it, and got brutally attacked by 2 man utd fans, Ashvin and Manishya. Its true what they say, a man is at his weakest when he is full. Well, all you Man Utd fans, I'll tell you, it wont be long before Chelsea climb back on top, that's for SURE.

And then, the dance floor opened. And so he joined everyone in on the dancefloor, only after Manishya dragged him out there. The lyrics were full of colourful language, strange analogies or metaphors(milk the cow, milkshake, humps) and other more, ahem direct ones. But hey, its about the music right?

Eventually he broke away from the crowd and huddled in a corner. He then spotted a gal sitting behind this barlike longish table with a high stool. She was cute. He told himself that if he had the balls he'd just be able to walk up to her and strike up a conversation with this gal who was seemingly bored. He forgot about her as he followed Manishya to the bar, she was getting herself a Margarita, and it was interesting to watch the bartender doing his stuff. Then, following her, he went to the exact place where the gal was sitting, and sitting between him and the gal was Ashvin. In front of Albert was Manishya, whom he was sharing the drink with. It was too strong for him, and considering it was a "ladies" drink, he cant imagine what a "macho" drink would taste like.

Then Ashvin and Manishya scooted off to the dance floor, and it was only him and the gal there. For a while he didnt say anything, just soaking in the atmosphere. Then their eyes met. She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture. And the rest they say, is history. They introduced each other, her name was Trishantini. And they made what little conversation they could with the music blazing, making it hard to even think. And she asked for his number.

Score.

Touchdown.

Whatever man, who da man, who da man??!!

After that, the atmosphere started to mellow, and it was midnight already. People started to leave. People were taking pictures. He took one with Manishya.

And then, he had to leave. But before, he took a look, just one last look, at you-probably-know-who.

B.E.A.T.S.

So Albert was thinking yeah, just stringing random thoughts into ideas, when he stumbles upon this cool idea. Its like when a moment of inspiration comes over you, an impetus, giving birth to great ideas and such. Well, he was thinking about the idea of a band, now check this out:
B:Boon, bassist
E:Evan, drummer
A:Albert, cant play anything, so its vocalist then
T:Tim, guitarist
S:Sam, keyboardist
Beats. Sounds original, especially since its an acronym. Its all really nice, but theres a small problem, Albert cant sing. Yeah, small problem.
But hey, it all fits soo nicely together, what the heck if Albert cant sing. Of course, they could get another person whose name starts with an "A", and who could actually sing. But for the sake of this blog posting lets just assume that there is absolutely nobody whose name starts with an "A" and who can also sing.
Maybe, they could follow in the footsteps of the band Ask Me Again, maybe even surpass them. They might even gain a loyal following. They would do numerous gigs everywhere and be soo much in demand that they would temporarily forget about getting an actual job. They'ed be the hottest thing in KL, or Bangsar and some say Batam(wherever the hell that is).
Then they would release their 1st album, under Sony BMG. Their 1st single, "Beats Me", becomes their breakthru song, hits No.1 everwhere, and every music station will be playing it(even the tamil ones). Critics will be hailing B.E.A.T.S. as the best thing to happen to Malaysian music:
"They're soo good, they just cant be local!!"
"Their infectious tunes and clever lyrics will leave you with involuntary dance movements and lip sync-ing"
"Cuba sekali, pasti mau lagi!"
Rave reviews indeed.
Then their breakthru in the international scene will come with their 2nd single, "Beat it", followed up by "Beat You Up" and the phenomenal success of the song "Beat-rice". Fame, fortune, and everything else falls in the laps of B.E.A.T.S. members. Also a chunk of musical history too.
But first, singing lessons of course.

Use your imagination

" I open my eyes, and as I take my 1st conscious breath, I see magnificient golden rays of sunlight filtering through the naked windows. Nature's symphony already proceeding with the chirping of birds, far away muffled barking and late insects headed back to their lairs. The tiltating aroma of freshly brewed coffee teases my already pampered senses, as I slip out of my bed in a zen-like state. I am the picture of serenity. Peace is me, and I am peace."

Albert wishes he could say that that is the truth, or that that is only a slightly exaggerated version of the reality. But come on, get real. Its the holidays, Albert's worst time of the year. He knows you all are probably flabbergasted, but really, in Albert's world, holidays are all hype. So here in real life, this is how it really goes.

"I am having a nice dream. Neighbour's stupid mutt wakes me up. I am blinded be the immense amout of light that burns my eyes. I curse the last person who pulled the curtain apart(which incidentally is me). I freak out seeing the cockroach I thought I killed last night on the wall opposite me. I jump out of my bed as I assume that the roach is back with a vengence. I knock over the table and fall to the floor like I'm van Nistelrooy diving for a penalty. I curse the person who put the table there( guess who). I stumble forward, then have my ear drums busted by my mom yelling at me to finish my already cold breakfast. Great, cold, bland coffee my mom's style. The curse is probably working already."

Sigh.

The thing is he misses school, in fact he dreams about his friends almost everday, going back to school on the first day of form 5, and his beloved friends engaging in certain activities in his dream that he was glad he woke up from before it happened. The monotenous repetitve routine during the holidays is starting to drain any bit of life that he has left in him. The cycle of banality is really starting to get to him. Not to mention his mom who is starting to irritate Albert with her lectures, like 10 nails screeching in elaborate zig-zag patterns on a big blackboard, slowly, grating the goo-ey substance that is his brain into thin little strips of pinkish matter, thread by thread.

But Albert remembers the words of a wise man. A wise, obnoxious man. A wise, obnoxious man in a purple dinosaur suit. A wise, obnoxious man in a purple dinosaur suit prancing around in a hit children's show that is way past its sell by date. He says: " Use your imagination." Three powerfull words. "Use your @#%$ imagination" Oops, thats 4.

(Shereena is expecting to be mentioned here, but sorry hon, only thing mildly related to you here is the colour purple, but really, Albert did draw some degree of inspiration from you for this post)

It is mildly disconcerting when one has to resort to taking advise from a man who jumps around excitedly in his airtight purple suit like he just farted in it. But then again, when one is in such dire straits, anything goes. Well, here goes. Lets imagine that the next 42 days of the holidays is not gonna be that bad. Maybe I might just wake up on the right side of the bed(although theres is only one side to get out of from my bed as it is against a wall). Maybe every day might just start out nice, like this:

" I open my eyes, and as I take my 1st concsious breath, I see magnificient golden rays of sunlight filtering through the naked windows. Nature's symphony already proceeding with the chirping of birds, far away muffled barking and late insects headed back to their lairs. The tiltating aroma of freshly brewed coffee teases my already pampered senses, as I slip out of my bed in a zen-like state. I am the picture of serenity. Peace is me, and I am peace."

Right.

Take the lead, please.

Albert and his favorite online companion, a girl, were IM-ing. Actually it is the same aforementioned girl in the previous post. Apparently, she was soo overwhelmed with the apologetic posting that she couldn’t help but allow her heart to just melt away, along with any bitterness towards Albert. Soo much so that she and Albert decided to kiss and make up (not literally of course, it’s a bloody metaphor), and forgive and forget, for the best of their friendship. Maybe it was partly because she just can’t get enough of him, it’s a wonder what a few well chosen words in a blog posting can do. Alright then, better stop gloating, she might just be reading this too, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Alright, back to the topic.



They stumbled unto the topic of dancing. And considering that this special girl has been a dancefloor hogger since kingdom come, and Albert, well lets just say theres a damn good reason why he hopes that his dancing ability is in no way related to his sexual prowess, a la that Animal Planet episode(which was also mentioned before here), this girl then indulged in the ultimate deed of magnanimity- she decided to give him some tips.



Albert told the girl his motto when it comes to dancing, that he would simply "talk" the girl out of noticing his pathetic dancing abilities, hoping that he can just cross his fingers and engage in conversation with the girl, since his body language isnt going to be anything close to decipherable. Which the girl then promptly in no uncertain terms let Albert know that that was THE lamest thing she had ever heard. Give him a break, desperate dudes resort to desperate measures. Besides, its just freestyle dancing isnt it, what's the worst that could happen?



Now you think that the following statement is probably going to contradict the previous one isnt it? You’re damn right about that.



She could dirty dance you, she says. Yeah, like THATS gonna happen. The only chance of that happening is that if theres a sexy song playing in the background, like maybe Buttons or Promiscuous, which happen to be hot songs that are played quite frequently. The imminent possibility then dawned on Albert. Gulp. He is definately all ears now.



Accoording to the girl( havent got exclusive rights to her name, since she is particularly sensitive about it), if she dances close to you, that means you should probably hold her. But one must also afford the girl enough space to do her own "thing", since she herself would'nt like following a guy's lead. Now, seemingly self-contradictory statements which are soo subjective on how a helpless guy should reciprocate when faced with do-or-face-humiliation-on-the-dancefloor situations do not help much to quell any anxiety, in fact, God forbid, it might even confuse a poor guy like Albert. He can already imagine holding and "unholding" a girl in such rapid succession that she would probably think he was groping her. Lets all together now sigh and shake our heads.



Whats that? Its all about body language? Its easy for you to sit there and think that, unless you happen to be a good dancer, then you can tell Albert about body language. Hell, if it came down to body language he would be bloody speaking in tongues dammit! He's pretty much a no hoper. Lets all sigh again.



So now, if you would kindly excuse Albert and all the expletives that were mindlessly ejaculated (yes that word has more that one usage), he has to download a couple of excerpts of Dancing for Dummies and persuade his favourite mop to practice with him(at least it wont dirty dance him).

Your perception, is my reality

Perception is reality. Albert firmly believes that. It doesnt matter what the reality actually is, but instead all that matters is what people perceive the apparent reality to be. Albert is feeling a little uneasy lately, mostly because the common, decent perception of him is taking a nose dive. Bad, bad, bad.

Recently, a couple of days before the last day of school, Albert found himself among his friends, having their usual conversation to beat the terrible boredom that is accustomed with end year schooling. Suddenly, as the conversation took a direction he was reluctant to follow, he found himself having to defend a barrage of verbal attacks from his friends, and even in doing soo, still ended up on the losing end. It was as though the characters in his life had staged a mutiny against Albert and his seemingly well orchestrated life revolving around them, and they wanted to dissect his image, and find out the real ugly person inside. They came pretty close.

But a girl got pissed at him. A girl he was close to. You know who you are, you may or may not be reading this, but its meant for you. Albert has already apologised, there isnt much else he can say. So for gawd's sake, would you just forgive this jackass and cease this Cold War between you and him. He did what he did out of pure desperation just to communicate with you. He thinks the world of you, he loves to "entertain" or "bore" you whenever you feel like it. He loves to tell you about Boon Han and Eva Longoria. About the "shaft". About his stupid fascinations of other girls. He loves to listen to your stories, about your cute nieces, whether they're 16 months or 16 years old. Because its YOU! He never got a chance to reply that beautiful testimonial you sent him, mostly because he took you for granted, guess you dont know what you've got till its gone.....eh?