Thursday, December 06, 2012

This thing called inertia

It's here. Been sitting heavy, chewing steady, all this while.
Bored, beady eyes and a slouch that the best doctor can't fix.
A deep yawn, slow thoughtless words.
The head throbs while introspection lies in the coffin.

Finally it gets to its feet. Aaah! Refreshing action!
Only to slump back into the creaking chair.
Breathes like lead, snores like a traffic jam.
This thing called inertia will be the end of me.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

The Clutter-rers

Every morning I walk into office with focus. Focus on what needs to be done, what's on priority, what's not. My mind draws out a neat task list even before I pour it out in my notebook so I don't forget anything.

And then it happens!

He calls me to his desk, engages me into an unnecessarily long conversation, punctuated with multiple digressions from the actual topic, laughs, cracks jokes. All this while I restlessly (and quite visibly!) writhe and throw frantic glances at my desk and the humoungous job list sitting fat and heavy on it. Often, I have to escape, making hurried reassurances that what he asks for will surely be done. And then I sink into the security of my chair, close my eyes to erase 80% of what we'd discussed and meditate on what 'really' needs to be done.

My phone rings a thousand times, mostly calls for my colleague (thankfully!), but it does break into my concentration. Many a random, idle person ambles in for a small kitty party with the boss, which (I am very grateful to them), they soon take outside. Those few precious moments of his absence....aaaaah! The amount of work I cram into them is incredible. They also amble in for a word with me, to take their minds off work, and since I'm the universal entertainer, I have no choice but to indulge in some informal banter, while my eyes stay on the screen. Rude yes, but I'm sorry; when there's work to be done, there's work to be done. It's true that I do the same sometimes, in order to rest my sore eyes and finger tips, and to occupy my mind elsewhere to make room for fresh ideas. But when a person fidgets in his/her seat at my sight and talks to me with all eyes on the screen, I get the message and walk away.
 
God please tell these people that the amount of time we spend in meetings, we could be at our desks or out in the field actually making something big happen! Meetings bore me. Particularly, when they're needlessly lengthy, most people are talking crap and inside we all know that nothing's going to change; we're just going to end up doing exactly what we have been doing. So I boycott meetings, whenever I feel like. I'd rather be conquering my target deadlines and have concrete evidence of what I do in the organisation than sitting around talking in the air.

Phone calls, random individuals, boss kitty parties, responses (through email) from 'over enthu' persons who develop cataract when they're supposed to be reading my emails carefully and replying with precision and in context. Did somebody tell you that you are an utter pest???

So before approaching me the next time, as I sit frowning at a design dilemma on the screen, my brain working quick and deft, blocking everything else out - go clutter somebody else's head. 

Thursday, July 26, 2012

The Bad Girlfriend

You won't even know when she takes over,
Kicking the sweet, unassuming girl out of the room.
She'll march around, restless, unhappy, angry...always,
Pouncing on petty objects,
Bouncing off bitter words,
Frowning,
Angry....always.

And while the sweet girl knocks frantically on the door, begging to be let in,
To save love, to restore peace, to secure the last shreds of happiness,
The bad one laughs in petulance,
Eyes gleaming with childish arrogance,
Till she destroys it all.

Struts out with her crimson cape flying behind her,
The sweet girl rushes in alarm on the scene,
And as she kneels before the ashes,
Tears abundant and painful,
A deep remorse sets in, which she carries to her grave....  

Mending and pasting the shreds to make it stand again,
Tears gluing them together,
She makes it stand, searching hopefully for signs of life,
But it remains silent, gloomy and lifeless,
Never to breathe the same love that helped it stand before.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Pencils in my hair

"Somewhere over the rainbow,
Where bluebirds fly,
And the dreams that you dreamed of,
Dreams really do come true ooh ooooh......" gently pours into my ears, painting pictures in the mind, happy pictures for a heavy heart. It comes to an end, everything. Especially when you begin to savour it. Litchi vanilla ice cream sticks or kiwi ice candies. Crazy auto rides or whisky. Everything.

Pencils hold my hair together. For other people, they write.