Friday, January 12, 2007

A simple question of mathematics

So here I am a hundred million stories to tell. Of friends. Heart breaks and burns, Straight players and those who turn. The occasional googly. It's a malestorm of emotions here. I am here caught in the middle of all of this, observing, watching, learning. Things I wanted to know. Things I never wanted to know. People maddening people.

I don't see what the point is. A normal day is 24 hours. 24 normal hours, why would you want to spoil all that. 24 hours. Eight of which you spend at office. Two more hours which you have to work since your life depends on numbers. At least your clothes depend on one specific number. Two more hours commuting to and fro from your place of work. Sometimes more. Which leaves us with the remaining half of the day. Of which you need at least six hours sleep. Leaving us with one fourth of the day. Of which two hours are gone early in the morning. Filling in water, making food for the family, having tea, getting your kids to school. Which leaves you with four hours for yourself.

One third of the day is all you have to yourself. In which you have to read the newspaper, solve crosswords, surf the net, watch TV, watch movies, read books, paint, make cartoons, read, play with your toys, have sex, drink, smoke, talk to your parents, neighbours, friends, family, stay in touch, write letters, file IT returns, fix your kids geometry box, do his homework, throw out SPAM, clean the house, manage your finances, invest, divest, jest, watch Porn and live what remains of your life, till you move to a glad and comforting death, where you retire and would love to do all of this, but couldn't since your joints long away gave out due to lack of exercise.

The exact quality time you are going to spend with your spouse after you do all this is going to be what apart from the time you have sex. Fifteen minutes, half an hour? What is it going to be?

Man if he were a rational animal would settle for an intra-office affair. I know where I'd try. Corporate here I "come"

powered by performancing firefox

Sunday, January 07, 2007

The quest for a profile

Incompetency in HR means:

  • have to attend interviews to find out what job you have to do
  • may still not be the job you get to do
  • loose respect for people
  • waste your time
But I do owe the kids a cricket kit

Have to get it tommorow if I can get my bike started

powered by performancing firefox