Friday - What Makes Me Write On This Day?
I am unsure why I have written these many posts on Friday. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that it marks an end to yet another week - it's a subtle time-slotting. Here, I stack another utterly mundane, dreadfully plain and tastelessly soggy week on the time-shelf.
Last week I went back home. The insulation of feelings has reached a stage where I felt nothing - neither excitement at reaching, nor sadness at leaving. My mother did shed a few tears lamenting I had come for a very short time. Even then I was devoid of any feelings. I have become a wound that has dried and hardened. The pain is somewhere beneath the crust, yet the touch does not yield any sensation.
Due to the heavy rains the top management colleague was unable to arrive in Delhi. His aircraft got diverted to another city. It was a small relief. I was ill-prepared for the review. And I will not hesitate to add that all throughout the flight home I was inwardly praying for it to get postponed. The heart thumped throughout the day as latest news of his awry flight schedule trickled in - while the rains showered with an hitherto unknown fury over Delhi skies. At that time, it seemed as if my chest was in a tight clamp; an odd sensation within; a fear, a coldness.
Well, between my boss and myself, a new person has been introduced - 'to help, guide and lead' as I was told. Translated to plain English it meant - 'Dude, you have screwed up badly there, so we are giving a new person the charge even though you might continue for sometime'. This new person and the boss were here for a short while. The boss left early, the person stayed back for a day more. Till now, we are still enveloped in the cloud of 'polite' introductions. Soon, this will evaporate and the residual reality will stick out in its putridity. Primarily because I dont really foresee myself adjusting to this new development; more, because the end product, the company as such remains the same. That sucks. And I cannot fall in love with it. Compromise, yes - but done that for a year; anymore, the effort is painful. So, once again I await for that providence and luck to bail me out.
Strangely, with this one tier in between, and the 'polite introductory stage' morphin taking over, I am lulled into a sort of comfort-ness. That strong fear is dulled. I am not really feeling sad or morbid. This gives rise to another scare - if I am not sad, does that mean that sorrow is just a step away? It usually is. I must feel haunted. I should wallow. I can't be comfortable. It is not right.
Well, as I said, another week went by. Let's see what the next brings. Am I allowed to hope for the best?
Last week I went back home. The insulation of feelings has reached a stage where I felt nothing - neither excitement at reaching, nor sadness at leaving. My mother did shed a few tears lamenting I had come for a very short time. Even then I was devoid of any feelings. I have become a wound that has dried and hardened. The pain is somewhere beneath the crust, yet the touch does not yield any sensation.
Due to the heavy rains the top management colleague was unable to arrive in Delhi. His aircraft got diverted to another city. It was a small relief. I was ill-prepared for the review. And I will not hesitate to add that all throughout the flight home I was inwardly praying for it to get postponed. The heart thumped throughout the day as latest news of his awry flight schedule trickled in - while the rains showered with an hitherto unknown fury over Delhi skies. At that time, it seemed as if my chest was in a tight clamp; an odd sensation within; a fear, a coldness.
Well, between my boss and myself, a new person has been introduced - 'to help, guide and lead' as I was told. Translated to plain English it meant - 'Dude, you have screwed up badly there, so we are giving a new person the charge even though you might continue for sometime'. This new person and the boss were here for a short while. The boss left early, the person stayed back for a day more. Till now, we are still enveloped in the cloud of 'polite' introductions. Soon, this will evaporate and the residual reality will stick out in its putridity. Primarily because I dont really foresee myself adjusting to this new development; more, because the end product, the company as such remains the same. That sucks. And I cannot fall in love with it. Compromise, yes - but done that for a year; anymore, the effort is painful. So, once again I await for that providence and luck to bail me out.
Strangely, with this one tier in between, and the 'polite introductory stage' morphin taking over, I am lulled into a sort of comfort-ness. That strong fear is dulled. I am not really feeling sad or morbid. This gives rise to another scare - if I am not sad, does that mean that sorrow is just a step away? It usually is. I must feel haunted. I should wallow. I can't be comfortable. It is not right.
Well, as I said, another week went by. Let's see what the next brings. Am I allowed to hope for the best?
posted by Not A Nice Person To Know at 9:32 pm
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