“The Dream of Evan and Chan” by The Postal Service… “It was familiar to me, the smoke too thick to breathe. The tile floors glistened, I slowly stirred my drink. And when you started to sing you spoke with broken speech that I could not understand. And then you grabbed me tightly. I wont let go…”

Christmas was pleasant and quiet, the way I like it. Let’s see: Turkey dinner, family gathering around the dinner table, pulling crackers, playing music. That’s what it’s all about, not to mention the distinctive tropical aroma provided by mum’s purchase of a durian. I managed to speak to pretty much everyone I cared for, including friends I hadn’t spoken to in months, so it was good to catch up on the last year’s worth of gossip in the space of a brief conversation. There’s something about bridging a gap that brings a smile to my face. New year’s day was the same. At home with the family and champagne. This was the first time I witnessed my brother drinking alcohol and may also be the last because he says he wants to live the life of a pioneer. Shunning booze may be possibly the least socially acceptable move when you’re yet to experience University life, but I won’t let him in on that till later. Yes, you may well say you won’t let a drop touch your tongue when you’re seventeen, but wait till you actually go to University and the opportunity to play strip-tequila arises. That’s enough to crumble any adolescent belief system.

On new year’s night there was an Elvis extravaganza on TV and I felt a strange feeling of complacency as I sat with my parents watching Elvis Presley: One Night With You. The show was carried out in an informal manner, giving you the feeling of Elvis as he once was, live in your living room (especially if you’d previously forayed into a Dolby or DTS upgrade). The show was nice, particularly because it evoked old memories of when we used to sit in our authentic 80’s style living room and watch the shows on TV. Mum and dad don’t really like rock and roll inspired music much, but they do love Elvis, and for a simple reason: people are defined by the music they grew up with. He was the biggest thing back then and I only just realised that the King was probably the only real influence that prompted my dad to pick up a guitar in his student days. It has to be, because all he ever played on my guitar were Elvis songs.

I’ve said before that I discovered music from a fairly young age and this was entirely because of my dad. When I was a kid my dad always used to fill the house with the pop music of his time. We still have vinyl from some one hit wonders, but thankfull most of the collection is comprised of popular recording female artists: Kirsty MacColl, Kate Bush and Toni “Hey Mickey you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind, hey Mickey” Basil, to name a few. I’d like to also make mention of the much more respectable LPs that grace the collection, like the Pink Floyd and Dire Straits albums. My dad never listens to these old songs any more but he admits to still liking them. This wasn’t really a surprise and I don’t see how that could ever die out. I don’t think I’d ever truly cast away the music I once loved, no matter how unknowingly cheesy it will appear years down the line. The first album I consciously wanted was the Batman soundtrack by Prince and that was when I was around eight. Music didn’t innervate my life (and pocket money) properly till I was around ten and I remember the first singles I went out and bought with my pocket money (”Two Princes” by Spin Doctors and “Three Little Pigs” by Green Jelly. I liked the former because of its beat and the latter because of it’s music video).

Yesterday, went out for caffeine with Hwei in the afternoon and sushi with catch-up (not to be confused with “sushi and ketchup”) with some of the guys from King’s, plus a few surprise guests. Sushi and catching up is always a good thing but the outing was prinkled with more pleasantness, courtesy of two old school pals, one of whom I had not seen since he left the sixth form. I had last seen Hils a few months ago and it had been about seven years since I had last seen Sanjay. The first thing I noticed was that everyone still towered over me, making me feel once again like I was at the back of the queue when God was giving out height. My relatively vertically challenged self felt unthreatened only when we sat down to eat and occasionally when a passer-by would look up to me, literally. How so much changes yet stays the same over time! I’ve always believed that for people who go down the higher education path, the years that change your thinking the most are the first few after your graduation. It’s during this time that you’ll be plunged head first into the world with the rest of them and develop new tastes and new ideas that will most likely stick around for the rest of your life.

I always find it a good surprise when old friends I once cliqued with in my schoolboy days make an appearance again in my life. Equally surprising are the stories I hear about other classmates in my class, particularly examples where a seemingly straight-edged pupil goes off the tracks upon entering University. During such revelations I’ll shake my head at bewilderment whilst uttering things like “Married and with kids at eighteen years old?” From my experience of speaking to teenage parents I am given the impression that parenthood at such a young age is not recommended even though having a child of your own is the greatest joy in life. I could understand this, but stuff like parenthood has always been right at the back of my mind, no doubt a consequence of my parents’ traditional values being pumped into my developing years. The concept of bringing a new life into the world when one’s own life is just beginning doesn’t make too much sense to me. It doesn’t make sense to throw away your formative adult years away for whatever reason.

I’ll admit along with everyone else that there are a few people I knew during high school who I could deal with never seeing again. High school is such a huge melting pot of teenagers without a clue, and unfortunately for some of them, this doesn’t change much with time, so obviously I am content with losing touch with some of them. I believe the people that really matter will always stay in your life anyway, even if it is only in your memories. My strongest friendships were forged during my University years; no doubt about that. Over time I’ve learned to appreciate that the beauty of strong friendships is the comfort of discussion. No topical stone is left unturned no matter how taboo it is. We all have learned our own lessons and lived our own stories, so hearing about every little experience (especially from a new friend) helps form a larger understanding of everything beyond the scope of that person sharing their thoughts with you.

[Clockwise from top-left: Yogi and Sanje start by pondering over what to have for dessert; Dan displays his elite chopstick skills; Me and Yogi reveal the number of years of training it takes to perfect the peace sign; Hils and Sanjay display their friendly and photogenic sides]

Two more days before I skip town and head down south to the coast. To the less informed lay person, this move would conjure up mental scenery of blue water trickling over one’s goosebumps whilst the sun beats down on one’s sun block as one dices the ripples with one’s surf board. However, this is the UK we’re talking about so there will be no such meteorological sensations. The sun will instead shine like a torch on low batteries and the concrete coloured sky would signal the ushering in of the cold, and only those with visions of hypothermic death wishes would choose to test their life force in the freezing drink.

I’ve not even begun to pack and besides from all the knitted tops I own and a few shoes, I have no idea how much of my closet will come with me. They say the same thing for life after death and it applies here too… “You can’t take it all with you.” At times like this I wish I could have one of those wardrobes constructed from magical yarn, containing magical clothing that dresses you appropriately in the mornings. I saw it once on a TV show, or was it a cartoon? Nevertheless, it wouldn’t surprise me if the Japanese were probably working on such a marvelous invention where the magical forces that propel the clothing will of course be substituted by robots. Big robots with oversized eyes and other grossly disproportionate bits. Anyway, whatever they decide to invent to overcome this problem of fashion irresolution, I sure hope it can fit in a suitcase or at least contain eyelets or a strap feature so that I can lug it around wherever I go, along with the confidence that I will mix visually into whatever social groups I choose to mingle with. It’s a good thing really that I travel lightly and the only things that are certainly going to be travelling with me are my computer (which doubles up as my jukebox and electronic scrap book), my camera, a stack of drawing grade foolscap, writing utensils and a few books.

So a new year has arrived and so quickly again. Wasn’t only yesterday that we counted in the new millennium and made crude comments about how the Thames’ “River of Fire” fireworks display was shite? For some, the new year means depleting savings by hitting the sales and for some it means polishing off that still leftover turkey which has started to host a saprophytic version of Mr Universe. For most however, it means penning or at least penciling some resolutions to generally improve quality of life. Again, I’ve not made any real resolutions because I tend to make them up as I go along, but I’ve formulated plans. I’m not sure how things will go off on a tangent from these desired plans but wasn’t it a wise person who once said that when making a journey one should always have a plan and a goal? Ah, if it wasn’t a wise person who once said that, then of course I will take the credit. Thanks. Hopefully my goals will manifest in reality on the fly once I light a fire under these plans of mine, which I will now nickname “caution,” and set them in motion. So caution, meet wind.

This entry presents an opportune moment to refer back to my new year’s resolutions from last year. Well, they’re not really “resolutions” because I never liked to call them that. Calling them “new year’s plans” makes them sound less of a cliché (i.e. everyone seems to break their “resolutions.” I’d like to keep mine intact). Reading through the list, I think I did pretty well. I attempted better health with regular exercise and that worked out well, because I no longer feel feeble under the strain of my own weight and drive. I showed more enthusiasm for the things I love doing, which led me to make a decisive change in career to something that sits with me much prettier. I rekindled my love for design, part of which is the result you’re seeing courtesy of your web browser today. I also got back into photography, which I didn’t give much thought to following my studies of it in high school. The stack of drawing paper I’m taking with me confirms my desire to draw and paint again and my perusal through old secret manuscripts tells me that my zeal for magic has been resurrected (I used to be a pretty slack card magician, but now I’m able to do the things I’d been trying to accomplish in my mid-teens when I was first exposed to it). On the communication front I’ve managed to keep in touch more closely with pals and compliment them each time I feel their actions and words make an impact on me. I tell my family I love them more often than I ever did, so they will know and not forget the way I have always felt about them.

I hope this year will be more productive and I think my new work and interests will ensure just that. Not everything had been rosy in the past year. A few things went wrong, but the consequences were that I found out more about others and myself, which is never a bad thing. I am still left believing that things always have a natural course of turning out fine in the end. If things don’t go wrong, how on Earth would we ever learn anything and remember the times when things do go right? I’ll leave you to ponder this thinking person’s rhetoric whilst I take my cue to wish you happy and memorable times in the new year. Cheers!