Even though, I'm not sure I understand the rules.
Take the 'chat-status' for instance.
'Busy'. What's that supposed to mean?
That's saying:
"Look, I'm here. I want you to know I'm here. I want you to know that I have a machine - that, I have access to internet - that, I logged into the chat application - that, I would like to talk to you lesser people - But, I'm an important person - I'm going to play hard to get - I'm BUSY."
YET, I receive most messages from friends who are 'busy'.
Their most frequently used opening line: "Hey Wassup? Gosh! I'm Bored!"
And, has that RED 'busy ball', or the program's irritating reminder - 'You may be interrupting the receiver' - ever stopped any of us from doing exactly that?
No! Hell No!
I tried to maintain that discipline, until, one day I decided to play hard to get and went 'Busy'. Instantaneously I started receiving more messages than a whole 'chat' lifetime of 'Available Invisibility'.
Wish we could do the same in real life. Walk around wearing a cap with a bulb on it.
Just click - the bulb goes RED - with a message saying - 'I am Busy' - hovering around. Every time people start to talk, a voice over (a sexy husky female voice) let's people know they are 'interrupting'.
***
'Busy' people are definitely faking it, because they chose against the 'Go Invisible' option.
The Invisible option.
I personally believe, it's the greatest invention after the wheel, cable TV, and 2-minute noodles.
Greater than internet itself.
To me, going invisible online, is living my boyhood fantasy, only in the virtual world.
[Somehow, my invisibility to people in real life doesn't excite me as much!]
It's the power of being invisible that gives the kick. You are on the other side of this force field, chuckling away in disdain, looking at the lesser virtual beings playing their stupid chat games with their lame 'busy' sign and lamer 'status messages'.
***
I JUST don't understand Status Messages'!
Human's irresistible love for graffiti just doesn't wear off, does it?
They have to demonstrate how they feel, in every single inch of public space they get.
They didn't even leave that tiny space that's supposed to show if you are available to talk, or are off to lunch!
"I'm at a crossroads in life ..."
"My wounds don't heal ..."
"Happy B'day ..."
"Plato said ..."
"I like ice-creams ..."
"My cat has an itch in it's ..."
Do I care?!
If everyone is sooooo enthusiastic about these status messages, again, how about doing the same in real life?>!
Walk around wearing tees that reads your status:
"I'm Available."
"Buy me a drink."
"Don't even think about it!"
It's any day better than the tees with lame random letters/numbers printed on it!
" 'WQSG 87Z', Whoa! his tee says 'WQSG 87Z'. I don't what that means, but it must be something very very important and cool!"
***
So, I'm game for chat games.
SEE you there.
(Or, maybe YOU will NOT be able to! Muwahahaha!)
Nov 21, 2008
Nov 1, 2008
SO, we have a happening planet!
So, I wake up this morning and like every morning, reach for the newspaper, to go as a snack with my wake-me-up tea. After all, to act as an adult, I must pretend to know/care/understand what is happening, with the planet.
Turns out, a LOT.
A lot is happening, with the planet!
To be precise: 20 pages. Printed front & back. Magazines extra.
I'm amazed. Because absolutely nothing is happening with/around me. And, I'm an active earth-man. One with membership to the cheapest of up-class gyms, singular status and a room with wooden speakers with boosters and all that.
Try pretending to know/care/understand what is happening in my life, and the best you will get out of me is :
"Well... Aaaeeenh!"
***
How's that possible? How can SO much happen everyday, day after day, on a consistent basis, on a planet inhabited by 6.6 billion blokes, who are just as BORED as me?!
How easy it must be for the planets to have a conversation with other planets over cosmic-coffee, or while they cross each other during their rounds? How effortlessly they can answer these questions? The kind, that absolutely petrifies the denizens of the above mentioned places, and is yet thrown around so carelessly by the same!
Uranus: Hey buddy, What's Up?
Earth: Well ... markets crashing, glaciers melting, politicians fighting, celebrities mating ... the regular. Here, take a copy of the Daily Tribune. 20 pages.
20 pages.
I'm flummoxed to see, how events happening around the world, always fit in exactly 20 pages!
There's "aaaaalways" something happening.
And these events are evenly spaced, like they have a deal amongst them, not to take each others charm away.
***
How about a boring day for the planet?
One morning I would like to wake up, reach for the newspaper, to go as a snack with my wake-me-up tea, and read:
"Well... Aaaeeenh!"
Turns out, a LOT.
A lot is happening, with the planet!
To be precise: 20 pages. Printed front & back. Magazines extra.
I'm amazed. Because absolutely nothing is happening with/around me. And, I'm an active earth-man. One with membership to the cheapest of up-class gyms, singular status and a room with wooden speakers with boosters and all that.
Try pretending to know/care/understand what is happening in my life, and the best you will get out of me is :
"Well... Aaaeeenh!"
***
How's that possible? How can SO much happen everyday, day after day, on a consistent basis, on a planet inhabited by 6.6 billion blokes, who are just as BORED as me?!
How easy it must be for the planets to have a conversation with other planets over cosmic-coffee, or while they cross each other during their rounds? How effortlessly they can answer these questions? The kind, that absolutely petrifies the denizens of the above mentioned places, and is yet thrown around so carelessly by the same!
Uranus: Hey buddy, What's Up?
Earth: Well ... markets crashing, glaciers melting, politicians fighting, celebrities mating ... the regular. Here, take a copy of the Daily Tribune. 20 pages.
20 pages.
I'm flummoxed to see, how events happening around the world, always fit in exactly 20 pages!
There's "aaaaalways" something happening.
And these events are evenly spaced, like they have a deal amongst them, not to take each others charm away.
***
How about a boring day for the planet?
One morning I would like to wake up, reach for the newspaper, to go as a snack with my wake-me-up tea, and read:
"Well... Aaaeeenh!"
Oct 5, 2008
SO, I went out!
Not so much because I wanted to, but it’s a weekend, and that’s the rule!
You just have to go out. No questions.
Now, it may not seem to be as depressing a proposition elsewhere in the universe. Alas, it is, in the city I live, "correction", survive in.
***
The best part about the whole exercise of “going out”, is the repeatedly evolving, vehemently scripted plan right before it.
It starts with one boredom-induced-proactive advanced ape-man emphatically broadcasting the “need to go out”, to his cosmos.
To start with the entire cosmos responds overwhelmingly.
And THEN the cosmos faces 4 questions :
1. Where?
2. When?
3. Who’s coming?
4. What do we do?
Simple Questions. Tricky Answers.
1. Where?
a) But that place does NOT serve alcohol!
b) But that place serves alcohol!
c) Too crowded
d) No people
e) Too expensive
f) Too far from our side of town. More importantly, “not far enough” from their side!
g) Oh but we went there the last time!
2. When?
a) Oh no! Not at 4. I have to hit the gym at 4. I haven’t gone there in 3 months. But now that we have a plan in the making. I must go!
b) It’s too hot at 5
c) I’ve to get home by 11
d) I’m busy till 7. Can’t they come a little late?
e) We fixed 5. It’s just 8. That’s not late. That’s absolutely allowed for group meetings.
3. Who’s coming?
a) I’m not coming if B is coming
b) I’ll come, only if B is coming
c) We can’t ask both, P and S to come. That’s colliding 2 different friend-worlds! You can’t collide the worlds. That’s catastrophic!
4. What do we do?
a) Something. Let’s do something.
I’m in for something
OMG, are we doing something again?!
b) Movie?
Seen it. No tickets. Bad reviews. Not interested. Oh! But I’ve to watch that one with M.
c) Let’s lunch or coffee.
That way, if the conversation, which will start and end with the famous and dreaded “How’s it going?” routine, doesn’t get interesting, we at least have a sandwich to fall back on. At the end of it, the waiter will get the check, which is nothing but a sign that the torture is over, and all of us can move on, without feeling awkward.
d) Catch up?
Or, at least get the ball rolling. Because to catch up, you need events in your life. For, these events happen you must go out. To go out, this plan must work. Which it will if we decide on what we will do! Aaah, the vicious loop!
***
And then...
4 questions. 789 conferences. 8,932 one-on-ones. 12,385 msgs. 101,254,873 MOU -later:
So the plan’s chucked. Say, let’s do something next weekend?
You just have to go out. No questions.
Now, it may not seem to be as depressing a proposition elsewhere in the universe. Alas, it is, in the city I live, "correction", survive in.
***
The best part about the whole exercise of “going out”, is the repeatedly evolving, vehemently scripted plan right before it.
It starts with one boredom-induced-proactive advanced ape-man emphatically broadcasting the “need to go out”, to his cosmos.
To start with the entire cosmos responds overwhelmingly.
And THEN the cosmos faces 4 questions :
1. Where?
2. When?
3. Who’s coming?
4. What do we do?
Simple Questions. Tricky Answers.
1. Where?
a) But that place does NOT serve alcohol!
b) But that place serves alcohol!
c) Too crowded
d) No people
e) Too expensive
f) Too far from our side of town. More importantly, “not far enough” from their side!
g) Oh but we went there the last time!
2. When?
a) Oh no! Not at 4. I have to hit the gym at 4. I haven’t gone there in 3 months. But now that we have a plan in the making. I must go!
b) It’s too hot at 5
c) I’ve to get home by 11
d) I’m busy till 7. Can’t they come a little late?
e) We fixed 5. It’s just 8. That’s not late. That’s absolutely allowed for group meetings.
3. Who’s coming?
a) I’m not coming if B is coming
b) I’ll come, only if B is coming
c) We can’t ask both, P and S to come. That’s colliding 2 different friend-worlds! You can’t collide the worlds. That’s catastrophic!
4. What do we do?
a) Something. Let’s do something.
I’m in for something
OMG, are we doing something again?!
b) Movie?
Seen it. No tickets. Bad reviews. Not interested. Oh! But I’ve to watch that one with M.
c) Let’s lunch or coffee.
That way, if the conversation, which will start and end with the famous and dreaded “How’s it going?” routine, doesn’t get interesting, we at least have a sandwich to fall back on. At the end of it, the waiter will get the check, which is nothing but a sign that the torture is over, and all of us can move on, without feeling awkward.
d) Catch up?
Or, at least get the ball rolling. Because to catch up, you need events in your life. For, these events happen you must go out. To go out, this plan must work. Which it will if we decide on what we will do! Aaah, the vicious loop!
***
And then...
4 questions. 789 conferences. 8,932 one-on-ones. 12,385 msgs. 101,254,873 MOU -later:
So the plan’s chucked. Say, let’s do something next weekend?
SO, I bought a gift!
SO, I bought a gift for the host people of a dinner I was invited to.
Now, I did not want to startle these folks with a non-traditional-non-insipid way of presenting it; So, I let the "gift shop" guy take the lead, who with astounding speed and dexterity scratched out the price-tag and wrapped it in a colorful celebratory paper!
***
Doesn’t make sense does it?
Why do we “gift wrap” gifts? What are we really hiding? And why do we have to hide it so beautifully?
Why don’t we want the people whom we are giving it to, know what we are giving them?
Sometimes I wonder if the real gift is the 5 seconds of wild anticipation from the point they receive it to the point they actually get it; tearing off the layers of wrapping; delving through the levels of packaging; thinking,
“OMG! I’m so excited! What could be in there? A ferrari? A diamond necklace? I can’t take this anymore, TRRRR there you go useless fancy paper … TTTSHHH-TRRR ….”
Those 5 seconds are extremely stressful for me. I put in all the thinking, the trauma, the effort into getting the gift; and then their ambitious imagination kicks in, only to find a CD or a Mug at the end of their open-the-gift ride!
I always say, “I got something for you, I think you will like it.”
I feel safe that way.
I’m sure it puts the recipient in a tight position.
I bet they go, “Gee! you haven’t given me too much of an option now have you? You first don’t stick to the list. Then you fool me with all this cosmetic surreptitiousness. You refer to it as ’some’-'thing’, like you don’t know yourself what it is. And then you just want me to like it! What am I to say? …. Thanks!”
***
The scratching out the price I don’t understand!
Why can’t these folks know how much you spent on them?
What is the fear really? That they might think you are being too cheap, or too extravagant?
And will the scratching really help?
I mean, who’s looking at the 10-dollar-mug picked up at the airport and thinking “Hummm, this mug must be worth 50 bajillion bucks! Wow, this S person is a real rich & nice guy. Say, let’s invite him to dinner again!”
I want to live in a world, where I can give unwrapped meaningful gifts that have a tacit message, and a not-tacit-at-all price tag hanging around, saying, “There ya go mate! Here is your gift. I spent 20 quid on it. Too cheap for you? I’m sorry but it’s about the message, beside I’m poor. Too fancy for you? Well, it’s about the message, besides it’s my problem.”
Now, I did not want to startle these folks with a non-traditional-non-insipid way of presenting it; So, I let the "gift shop" guy take the lead, who with astounding speed and dexterity scratched out the price-tag and wrapped it in a colorful celebratory paper!
***
Doesn’t make sense does it?
Why do we “gift wrap” gifts? What are we really hiding? And why do we have to hide it so beautifully?
Why don’t we want the people whom we are giving it to, know what we are giving them?
Sometimes I wonder if the real gift is the 5 seconds of wild anticipation from the point they receive it to the point they actually get it; tearing off the layers of wrapping; delving through the levels of packaging; thinking,
“OMG! I’m so excited! What could be in there? A ferrari? A diamond necklace? I can’t take this anymore, TRRRR there you go useless fancy paper … TTTSHHH-TRRR ….”
Those 5 seconds are extremely stressful for me. I put in all the thinking, the trauma, the effort into getting the gift; and then their ambitious imagination kicks in, only to find a CD or a Mug at the end of their open-the-gift ride!
I always say, “I got something for you, I think you will like it.”
I feel safe that way.
I’m sure it puts the recipient in a tight position.
I bet they go, “Gee! you haven’t given me too much of an option now have you? You first don’t stick to the list. Then you fool me with all this cosmetic surreptitiousness. You refer to it as ’some’-'thing’, like you don’t know yourself what it is. And then you just want me to like it! What am I to say? …. Thanks!”
***
The scratching out the price I don’t understand!
Why can’t these folks know how much you spent on them?
What is the fear really? That they might think you are being too cheap, or too extravagant?
And will the scratching really help?
I mean, who’s looking at the 10-dollar-mug picked up at the airport and thinking “Hummm, this mug must be worth 50 bajillion bucks! Wow, this S person is a real rich & nice guy. Say, let’s invite him to dinner again!”
I want to live in a world, where I can give unwrapped meaningful gifts that have a tacit message, and a not-tacit-at-all price tag hanging around, saying, “There ya go mate! Here is your gift. I spent 20 quid on it. Too cheap for you? I’m sorry but it’s about the message, beside I’m poor. Too fancy for you? Well, it’s about the message, besides it’s my problem.”
Sep 18, 2008
SO, I joined a gym!
I like “joining” gyms. It’s the best part of gymming.
I’m always calculating when’s the right time to join … “Hummm, let’s see, when do I want to get fitter? After next Sunday, for my next birthday, right after this test, or on Republic Day?”
And then there’s the pre-gym fattening I go through.
“Well, I’m going to “join” a gym and get six-pack abs next Sunday onwards anyway. Let me act like a food gobbling maniac till that point. What’s that chicken? ya, put some more. Some more. Yes, open the fourth can. I’m going to burn all that up, starting next Sunday. Actually let’s make it the 1st of next month.”
I just need a membership to feel fitter. I did move my butt to go and pretend to check out the “work out area” and pay the folks wearing the tight orange wickedly uncomfortable clothes, a bomb. I think I’ve done my part. I’m good!
***
I don’t like the gym, I joined this time around.
For one, when I pay them that kind of money, I don’t want them to call me fat. I want them to call me … King.
I want them to speak in my language, and play my music.
In fact, in all fairness, they should be working out for me, and I should just get fitter.
I’m also extremely disappointed with the female population of the gym. Isn’t that a tacitly understood part of the deal?
I want some really hot females, wearing very gym-ish clothes, just hanging around for me.
If I’m taking the effort of looking like an idiot, panting, and sweating, cycling on a bike with it’s wheels lifted a feet above the floor, that has an odometer telling me how far I would have gone, if the supports were to come off; I want some of the above mentioned kind just hanging around to remind me why I am doing all this in the first place!
***
I don’t like my instructor. And, it has not everything to do with his mush.
It’s just the condescending look he gives me; and, his questions I can’t take:
“So, how long have you been fat?”
What, he wants like a specific date? How about the 3rd of June 1994.
“Can you run for 30 mins on this at Level 3, without fainting?”
I don’t know, you freak of nature! You tell me, you are the one wearing fluorescent colored vinyl. Can I ?
The other day, he looks at me up & down and goes,“14 mins on the fx-127 level 13, stay at 54 rpm”
No, really? He got that by just looking at me? and what on earth is the fx-127 ?
Now, I’m in my late early twenties, and have bullied my share of younger boys. But, I’m at some level scared of this guy!
Maybe it’s because he reminds me of all the PT coaches from torturous childhood. I’ve been in many schools, in many places, and these guys were the same everywhere. i.e : They were horrible to me!
What’s with these PT folks, why do they walk around like they own the world, picking on the geeky fat kids?
What is their big achievement in life?
That they couldn’t find a job as a regular teacher?
And what was their job profile really? I don’t remember them teaching anyone any sports!
What did the recruitment ad say?
“HIRING! Beefy scary looking guys, who can pretend to know sports; refuse to give “the ball” to students eager to play; wear funny clothing in public; and can pick on fat kids”.
If I could meet them now .. grrr
That’s it, I’m going to deal with this guy !
***
So, it’s time for me to hit the gym. They are going to literally make me RUN for my MONEY … on the fx-127!
I’m always calculating when’s the right time to join … “Hummm, let’s see, when do I want to get fitter? After next Sunday, for my next birthday, right after this test, or on Republic Day?”
And then there’s the pre-gym fattening I go through.
“Well, I’m going to “join” a gym and get six-pack abs next Sunday onwards anyway. Let me act like a food gobbling maniac till that point. What’s that chicken? ya, put some more. Some more. Yes, open the fourth can. I’m going to burn all that up, starting next Sunday. Actually let’s make it the 1st of next month.”
I just need a membership to feel fitter. I did move my butt to go and pretend to check out the “work out area” and pay the folks wearing the tight orange wickedly uncomfortable clothes, a bomb. I think I’ve done my part. I’m good!
***
I don’t like the gym, I joined this time around.
For one, when I pay them that kind of money, I don’t want them to call me fat. I want them to call me … King.
I want them to speak in my language, and play my music.
In fact, in all fairness, they should be working out for me, and I should just get fitter.
I’m also extremely disappointed with the female population of the gym. Isn’t that a tacitly understood part of the deal?
I want some really hot females, wearing very gym-ish clothes, just hanging around for me.
If I’m taking the effort of looking like an idiot, panting, and sweating, cycling on a bike with it’s wheels lifted a feet above the floor, that has an odometer telling me how far I would have gone, if the supports were to come off; I want some of the above mentioned kind just hanging around to remind me why I am doing all this in the first place!
***
I don’t like my instructor. And, it has not everything to do with his mush.
It’s just the condescending look he gives me; and, his questions I can’t take:
“So, how long have you been fat?”
What, he wants like a specific date? How about the 3rd of June 1994.
“Can you run for 30 mins on this at Level 3, without fainting?”
I don’t know, you freak of nature! You tell me, you are the one wearing fluorescent colored vinyl. Can I ?
The other day, he looks at me up & down and goes,“14 mins on the fx-127 level 13, stay at 54 rpm”
No, really? He got that by just looking at me? and what on earth is the fx-127 ?
Now, I’m in my late early twenties, and have bullied my share of younger boys. But, I’m at some level scared of this guy!
Maybe it’s because he reminds me of all the PT coaches from torturous childhood. I’ve been in many schools, in many places, and these guys were the same everywhere. i.e : They were horrible to me!
What’s with these PT folks, why do they walk around like they own the world, picking on the geeky fat kids?
What is their big achievement in life?
That they couldn’t find a job as a regular teacher?
And what was their job profile really? I don’t remember them teaching anyone any sports!
What did the recruitment ad say?
“HIRING! Beefy scary looking guys, who can pretend to know sports; refuse to give “the ball” to students eager to play; wear funny clothing in public; and can pick on fat kids”.
If I could meet them now .. grrr
That’s it, I’m going to deal with this guy !
***
So, it’s time for me to hit the gym. They are going to literally make me RUN for my MONEY … on the fx-127!
SO, I've a coffee maker poker
SO, I go to the cafeteria at my new workplace to get some coffee, and there’s a human person there to operate the coffee machine.
Which means that instead of you poking the button on the machine by yourself, you go to this guy, wait for him to notice your presence, and when he acknowledges your existence with an upward nod, you tell him what you would like to have:
Latte, Espresso, Cappuccino ...
And then HE will do the “POKING the BUTTON” for YOU; and serve you Cappuccino (Oh ya, that’s how it works. No matter what you order, he always serves the Cappuccino, and further questions are not entertained.)
Then you take the overflowing/leaking/half spilled cup of capp. from him -> find yourself sugar -> add it in your coffee (& spill some more out) -> find a stirrer (& spill some more out)-> stir it (& spill some more) …
Now, that seems a lot of hard-work to me. I really wouldn’t mind a helper for that.
I say, If we really want to give POKER a job, let’s make him the STIRRER!
Which means that instead of you poking the button on the machine by yourself, you go to this guy, wait for him to notice your presence, and when he acknowledges your existence with an upward nod, you tell him what you would like to have:
Latte, Espresso, Cappuccino ...
And then HE will do the “POKING the BUTTON” for YOU; and serve you Cappuccino (Oh ya, that’s how it works. No matter what you order, he always serves the Cappuccino, and further questions are not entertained.)
Then you take the overflowing/leaking/half spilled cup of capp. from him -> find yourself sugar -> add it in your coffee (& spill some more out) -> find a stirrer (& spill some more out)-> stir it (& spill some more) …
Now, that seems a lot of hard-work to me. I really wouldn’t mind a helper for that.
I say, If we really want to give POKER a job, let’s make him the STIRRER!
Sep 17, 2008
SO, What’s with the instant start?!
So, What’s with the instant start, in the air conditioner?
I mean, why is there a non-instant way, when they have already figured out to do it the instant way ?!
I don’t know of anyone who treats it like an automatic camera.
“Ok … click … run … get under the sheets … got just 15 secs before it starts … I can not be exposed to that kind of cold for over 3 seconds!”
And, why is that damn button always red and hidden in the side?
What? They don’t want anyone to know they have actually invented this?!
And why are the people who found out about the secret button, walking around like they are 5 steps ahead in life, chuckling away thinking,
“Ha! Those engineers at Oricon, they think they could hide this from me! Me!”
Nothing beats the dumb founded look on the faces of the “plain-wait-for-the-AC-to-start” people, on seeing the 'press the hidden red button trick',
”What? How? How? How did you do that? It started instantly!”
Well, why is it still a trick? Why aren’t the AC folks going public about it?
They have done it. The instant start has arrived. And it’s right there, but nobody wants to talk about it. What’s going on?
I mean, why is there a non-instant way, when they have already figured out to do it the instant way ?!
I don’t know of anyone who treats it like an automatic camera.
“Ok … click … run … get under the sheets … got just 15 secs before it starts … I can not be exposed to that kind of cold for over 3 seconds!”
And, why is that damn button always red and hidden in the side?
What? They don’t want anyone to know they have actually invented this?!
And why are the people who found out about the secret button, walking around like they are 5 steps ahead in life, chuckling away thinking,
“Ha! Those engineers at Oricon, they think they could hide this from me! Me!”
Nothing beats the dumb founded look on the faces of the “plain-wait-for-the-AC-to-start” people, on seeing the 'press the hidden red button trick',
”What? How? How? How did you do that? It started instantly!”
Well, why is it still a trick? Why aren’t the AC folks going public about it?
They have done it. The instant start has arrived. And it’s right there, but nobody wants to talk about it. What’s going on?
Sep 14, 2008
SO, Weekends suck!
So, weekends suck. Don’t they ?
Because you are expected to be Superman on weekends. And who sets these high standards? YOU.
The weekday i-am-at-work moron YOU.
“Arrgh! the damn bulb’s not working? Oh! I can live another 3 days without that, I come here to sleep anyway. I can change and watch TV in that dark. It’s a work-day, I’ve work, I’ll fix this on the weekend”
“Great! the tap is leaking! Weekend. Let’s tighten this up this weekend, or some weekend, but it’s gotta be a weekend. It’s not like the city will get flooded if it leaks a little.”
“Laundry. Weekend”
“Send the courier. Weekend”
“Yes Boss. I din’t get to see that report. Tell you what, I’ll read it up this weekend.”
“Man, I missed gym 5 times this week. Well, there’s the weekend.”
“Theatre Classes? Interesting. I’ll join this weekend”
“Oh, I’ll settle all these bills this weekend.”
“This looks good. Let’s catch this movie, this weekend.”
“I’m going to find my thing. And then pursue that thing, this weekend”
“Where’s my life heading to? What am I doing in life? Let’s do some self-talking this weekend”
“Sure S, Let’s lunch this weekend.”
“That sound great E, Let’s lunch this weekend”
“A’rite then A, I’ll catch up for lunch this weekend”
“So N, let’s do brunch this weekend”
“Let’s party this weekend”
“Let’s climb the EVEREST this weekend”
***
I bet God goes, “Oh man! … bomb blasts, hurricanes, rising oil prices, global warming … yeah, let’s fix this all up this weekend”.
And none of these really happen!
I’m sure even G just sits on his big recliner thinking,
“Oh c’mmon, it’s a weekend, it’s been a hard week. Lemme just lay around for a while. And it’s just Saturday afternoon now, we got the whole night and a full day. And it’s a weekend, you gotta have fun.”
That’s the other stressful part of the weekend. You just GOTTA HAVE FUN! There’s no other way about it.
And, having fun is very stressful.
Having fun, is the number one cause for depression.
You could be doing what’s generally regarded as fun stuff, and you suddenly become very 'aware' and start asking yourself:
“Am I having fun? Is this fun in enough? Is this any fun? What is fun?
I’m 100 quid low and 7 drinks high, I better be having fun.
Ok now, have-fun, have-fun, have-fun, have-fun … oh ****, 100 bucks!”
***
SO, it’s a Sunday late afternoon, and I’ve to send 2 reports, settle my bills, read a book, fix my phone, fix my room, fix my head, watch a movie, meet 3 people at different dinner venues, and save gotha…(woooops). Nothing. That’s it. So you have a happy weekend!
Because you are expected to be Superman on weekends. And who sets these high standards? YOU.
The weekday i-am-at-work moron YOU.
“Arrgh! the damn bulb’s not working? Oh! I can live another 3 days without that, I come here to sleep anyway. I can change and watch TV in that dark. It’s a work-day, I’ve work, I’ll fix this on the weekend”
“Great! the tap is leaking! Weekend. Let’s tighten this up this weekend, or some weekend, but it’s gotta be a weekend. It’s not like the city will get flooded if it leaks a little.”
“Laundry. Weekend”
“Send the courier. Weekend”
“Yes Boss. I din’t get to see that report. Tell you what, I’ll read it up this weekend.”
“Man, I missed gym 5 times this week. Well, there’s the weekend.”
“Theatre Classes? Interesting. I’ll join this weekend”
“Oh, I’ll settle all these bills this weekend.”
“This looks good. Let’s catch this movie, this weekend.”
“I’m going to find my thing. And then pursue that thing, this weekend”
“Where’s my life heading to? What am I doing in life? Let’s do some self-talking this weekend”
“Sure S, Let’s lunch this weekend.”
“That sound great E, Let’s lunch this weekend”
“A’rite then A, I’ll catch up for lunch this weekend”
“So N, let’s do brunch this weekend”
“Let’s party this weekend”
“Let’s climb the EVEREST this weekend”
***
I bet God goes, “Oh man! … bomb blasts, hurricanes, rising oil prices, global warming … yeah, let’s fix this all up this weekend”.
And none of these really happen!
I’m sure even G just sits on his big recliner thinking,
“Oh c’mmon, it’s a weekend, it’s been a hard week. Lemme just lay around for a while. And it’s just Saturday afternoon now, we got the whole night and a full day. And it’s a weekend, you gotta have fun.”
That’s the other stressful part of the weekend. You just GOTTA HAVE FUN! There’s no other way about it.
And, having fun is very stressful.
Having fun, is the number one cause for depression.
You could be doing what’s generally regarded as fun stuff, and you suddenly become very 'aware' and start asking yourself:
“Am I having fun? Is this fun in enough? Is this any fun? What is fun?
I’m 100 quid low and 7 drinks high, I better be having fun.
Ok now, have-fun, have-fun, have-fun, have-fun … oh ****, 100 bucks!”
***
SO, it’s a Sunday late afternoon, and I’ve to send 2 reports, settle my bills, read a book, fix my phone, fix my room, fix my head, watch a movie, meet 3 people at different dinner venues, and save gotha…(woooops). Nothing. That’s it. So you have a happy weekend!
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