Therapy

I need therapy.

I have established that I am qualified to treat myself.

(Ask me how and I'll tell you to "Go jump in a ditch". Go on, ask me how, and see how I'll copy paste that. Obviously, you can't behold the flair with which my big, fat fingers execute the well practiced Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V gesture. Your loss. Boo hoo. Whine like a bitch now.)

Given the dearth of something (forget the qualifiers "good" or even "decent") to write, I have decided that I will document this on this blog. Mainly because I have decided to use "writing" as a therapeutic tool. Now, don't argue with me about how this won't work - what do you know about "therapy" anyway?

So, here's a warning...if you are a wimp, keep away from this blog. Not that anyone reads it anyway. Also, I'm not entirely sure how it might harm you if you were a wimp. I mean, I'm the most average-esque guy one could encounter. I personally personify the bulge of the Gaussian distribution. I know that you didn't ask how that could be the case...but I will punish you just for existing by giving you the reason why I said so...

I'm an Indian guy, who has completed engineering from one of the "good" colleges, after which, has been recruited by one of the biggest recruiter of all time, and has taken the most used exit option to do an MBA, and is presently cribbing about how life has not turned out according to plan, while unabashedly forgetting that there was never a plan. Also, given that I'm a part of the "1/3rds Group" (Apparently, chicks dig Tall, Dark, Handsome men. I'm Dark (ONLY, I haste to add) - so, statistically, I've a chance with every third chick I meet, no? Or maybe, I just didn't understand the theory of Conditional Probability), and the fact that I don't look like anyone who would appear in any of the advertisements (barring this brilliant Bingo ad), and have been in approximately 1.5 relationships, and know 4 different languages, I believe makes me the statistical mean of the Indian men. Go on and refute me on this, and see how I ignore you. Go on, try it.

So, basically, keep away if you don't want to be bored to death.

Regards,

The Mean Guy.

Jawani Diwani

Possibly, my most favourite album of all time. Every song is just so bleddy melodious that it tempts one to fall in love with another human being, however distasteful and harmful that sounds.

The Spectator

My life is not my fault. I'm a mere spectator.

Bad ASO!

Sheet! It's happening again. I've re-started liking things like this.

Bad ASO...Bad!

Quick! Bring the medicine! Ah! Peace....

PS: If you have read this (by mistake, as is usually the case), and are wondering why I wrote it, it was because I felt a need to get it out of the system. Nothing to worry - I am back to being the normal misanthropic ASO after taking Dr Morrison's prescription. Now get lost.

Update: I just realized it was Brooker who led me into that mode. It was because I saw "Meet the Natives", after he recommended it. Drat! But it is good - everyone (especially misanthropes) should watch it. It almost re-kindles your faith in humanity, and makes you smile. And then, you realize that it is nothing more than an infotainment feature. Normality returns.

The A or B of Photography.

For all those who have been taxing their frail, delicate, mushy bundle of nerves and tissue in its skeletal cage on which camera to buy, I believe that the link below is a brilliant source of information. I actually believe that it is better than speaking to any number of the so-called human experts in your FaceBook list, who preen about their mastery over the auto-mode in their expensive cameras.

As usual, a system made by humans is a much better alternative to humans. It is only a matter of time before we lose ourselves in the cloud, and the machines learn how to create themselves. It is only a matter of time before only the data entry experts, i.e. those who can type very very fast, will be the only ones allowed to live...but only until everything that needs to be documented, gets documented. All this is supposing that the machines don't choose to use OCR algos, and instead choose to torture the hopes of the flailing spirit of the humankind by keeping a handful powerless creatures alive.

Basically, it is only a matter of time before we are all doomed. Which is a good thing if you ask me...mainly because we can retire from the world without the complete guilt of destroying the planet. Admit it! That is exactly what is going to happen!

Only that, the transfer of the guilt won't be justified...given that we created the robots in the first place. YOU MONSTROUS HUMANS!!!

Oh, the link: http://snapsort.com/compare

I know. I should stop drinking strong coffee. Now go type in your miserable document.

Why a fencepost is better than you.

My anti-life coach Charlie Brooker says that "we (humans) are but a random assembly of atoms, of less consequence and meaning than the average fencepost, which at least has a definable purpose". He admits that if one were to beam this message over to the masses, the national suicide rate may rise slightly,but points out that "it'd be character-building".

Given that I consider him to be the voice in my head - only saying things much more interesting and much more superbly analysed than anything that my dumb block of grey cells can come up with or handle, I can't but agree whole-heartedly.

What eeeeeees!

Would somebody be kind enough to explain to me why every single time I hit the "Next Blog>>" button on my blog, it ends up opening a page of some random chicks' cute updates? Is my blog really so damn corny? FTW!

Buzz Kills

Being an ardent fan of Scott Adams, I was disowned by some of my close friends when I chose to get into the dirty business of management – these fellows even labeled me as a hypocrite. Well, I believe that I have paid my dues to them – and to myself too – by being utterly unhappy and generally moping around in life since I entered the apparently hallowed portals of a highly-regarded institute.

The cynicism and depression notwithstanding, I cannot deny the fact that I actually did get to learn a lot (sometimes, at the cost of healthy doses of common sense) during the two years that I drifted naked through the masquerade. And over the past few years, as I have grown progressively immature and balder, one thing I have come to notice is that the people who have really, honestly and passionately wanted to go to a good B-school, but have never been able to fulfill this desire (mainly due to huge possibility of them being retarded), invariably end up using all the bleddy amazing managerial buzz-words which are such a buzz-kill that one is forced to one’s knees, begging such creatures to just buzz-the-eff-off, or to use a buzz-saw to good effect!

I have been in the wonderful company of such blessed items over the past few months. It has been a single-most excruciatingly irritating experience at times – more so during meetings, where I get to hear some pearls of wisdom that drop with the sweet sound of the echo that resonates in my head every time I imagine blowing my own head off with a sawed-off shotgun. It gets even more painful when they insist on speaking in the same holier-than-thou tone, disbursing their sense of shallow, pitiful idea of knowledge to one and all.

It so happened that one such critter happened to cross me on a day when it would have been better off hiding in the muck. It asked me for something while I was in the thick of something else (I don’t care if this sounds vague – this is my bloody rant and I’ll be as vague as I bloody want to be), and when I asked what the former something was about, it said that it wanted to “derive tangents”. This got me interested, as I honestly wanted to know if deriving tangents would lead to anything other than a straight line that “just touches” this aforementioned something. But I was told that I was out of my place in seeking this clarification. Hmmm…so, I utilized my hypothetical managerial knowledge to the full extent (meaning that I used this) to draft the following reply:

Dear Xxxxxx,

I have briefly aggregated a high-level view of the initiatives that I have been driving, and some of the initiatives that I wanted to get involved in. Some of the points have to be recontextualized and reengineered to ensure that they can be transformed into impactful schemas that can add strategic value for Xxxxx as an organization. I hope this complies with what you were looking for.

I also hope that, with your vision and understanding of the organization, you can help disintermediate the dynamics of the infrastructure and enable me to target paradigms of the ever-changing industry as a more effective marketing manager, and to help me enhance myself to utilize the entire bandwidth of my skills to be more impactful in the challenging environment that Xxxxx presents.

Ah! It felt good to have written that. It took effort to draft that, and I was pleased. But only till the realization that it actually made sense struck me! Damn! I’m trying to be one of them - using incomprehensible language to create a false sense of superiority! Aaaaaarggggghhhhh!