The Blossoming Hatred

I’m starting to hate the National Band Competition.

It is not my place to comment on whether I am capable of looking past my thirst for competition and lose gracious when the rarity surfaces, but Liverpool fans can empathise with me when our team have been on a decade long losing streak from any significant competitions. It’s frustrating to find that bands from other states have evolved by leaps and bounds while our quality have been waning to the standard we would laugh at years ago.

It is also true that despite the questionable direction our great alma mater’s flagship has taken, most of the alumni will persevere in weathering our rivals’ jeers proudly and extend our cheers towards the latest leadership. Yet, I can find no resemblance in the current batch when compared to the band I once loved. Why must a cadet corps resort to insipid gimmicks to convince the attending masses of our conviction to be champions?

But that is not why I’m starting to hate the National Band Competition.

It is the indirect torments that I have to endure after every failure. All the feigned sympathy from friends with similar interests but different allegiances needs a courteous, albeit difficult, response. The denigrating criticisms from every self-proclaimed band expert within the vicinity have to be defended and/or deflected for loyalty sake, no matter how hard they are to ingest. But worst of all is the fact that these derision are strangely directed at me, even from within the alumni.

Is it the need to appear intelligent and cultured that compels you to dwell in the negatives? Is it the resentment of my ability to affect changes within the hierarchy of the band? Is it the jealousy of my significance to the existing batch of leaders that I had a hand in nurturing? I’m sure anyone can reap these if they cared enough. So don’t blame me for your failure to contribute. Your mere words alone are useless without actions to support them.

I’m starting to hate the National Band Competition. But I will not stop loving my band.

The Evolution

Wow, after a week’s passing, where should I begin? The sheer number of occurrences within my growing checklist of blog items renders me paralysed in indecision, slender fingers poised above the keys. Therefore, please accept my humble apologies for breezing through some of the latest developments and leave your critical thoughts your own. Further clarification will be provided if what you read here does not suffice, so feel free to approach me in person.

They say the best way to start is in the beginning, and with me at my wits end, I will rein in my tendency to rebel and follow suit. The beginning of the week played host to probably the most noteworthy event so far as Monday saw the commencement of my new career. I have since shed my previous role as a project manager and assumed new responsibilities as an internal auditor - or in official terms a business advisor. I suspect that more cunctators will be familiar with the job title of a consultant though, even though it is ever so slightly misleading. Nevertheless, each position is one and the same. More information on the company will be divulged later.

This should be a good juncture for me to announce that this space will experience some degree of change to suit my latest endeavours. Do not be alarmed, fellow cunctators, for this is merely a natural progression, as amendments to the fundamental objectives usually herald an adjustment in standard procedures. I must admit that I can no longer sustain this blog’s frequent maintenance with the demanding workload expected from me, nor do I want to.

It is no secret how much I enjoy words, used in composing and deciphering subtle messages, so this is not a notice of this web-waste’s termination. No, this is simply a request of your graces in regards to the future lack of such indulgences. I do not believe it is within my capabilities to churn out as many posts as before. I do not wish to exploit this blog as a façade for my concentration on a computer given that I do not need an outlet to avoid work anymore. The company facilitates the passing of time between my coming and leaving for me, limiting my contributions here to nights after work (if I’m not too exhausted) or the weekends like today.

For now, I must excuse myself to recuperate after the hectic first week. Too much information has been forced into my feeble intelligence, and the quarter I spent on mindless procrastination has diminished my knowledge absorption rate even more. Do not fret though, for more updates are forthcoming, as and when I am able to write them. Just don’t wait for it with abated breath. There is no use for my faithful readers to start dropping like flies now, is there? =)

Radios in Heaven

It is the end of an era, in more ways than one. I have successfully completed my last week of my job as a Project Manager without complications; before embarking in the next phase of my career path as a Business Advisor. Instead of being wildly enthusiastic of my future prospects, I am only reminded of the disintegration of something more important. Friendships are fracturing lately due to everyone moving in separate directions according to their destiny.

As the semesters of various universities abroad and local colleges conclude their courses, the life of a lonely KL-ite regains some sort of resemblance of happier and simpler times. Fellow IDIOTs away are trickling back to the Motherland of Mamak Cuisine, promising future ventures late into the night in search for food and brotherly companionship. Yet, as familiar faces flood the arrival gates, I cannot help but notice the absent faces among the throng.

The heart is weary at the stream of memories, filled with both fondness and sorrow. It is always a shame to lose someone close to our hearts indefinitely, especially a character brimming with life and optimistic dreams at a fresh young age. I am sure many of us are still reeling from the shock and subsequent struggles to move on with our routines; but hopefully, only faith of a better place perpetuates now.

It has always been a peeve of mine to not honour a passing like many others had. As touching as they are, words of commiseration and gifts of condolences consecrated by those within my circle further compound the agony of loss. It has been an arduous journey, but after a little more than the passing of two full seasons, I have finally come to terms with one of existence’s inevitability. So at the risk of rekindling gloomy reminiscences, I dedicate this to the Boss himself.

*Rubin, you still feature in our thoughts.*