Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Application i-Sleep



Sleep is a 5 lettered word which is a panacea to almost everything – headaches, headaches from hangovers, mood swings, hunger etc. You name it; sleep naturally cures it. At some point in my life I had sleeping mentioned as an activity on my Orkut profile; then I realized that it was a double-edged sword and I immediately took if off.

For the last couple of hours, I’ve been unusually sleepy at work. I pinged a friend and the conversation is as follows:
S: I’m sleepy! I want to sleep.
A: Haha.. Good Night.
S: Yeah right!
A, suggested that I listen to heavy metal.

I know a lot of you guys out there who sympathize and share the same feelings. The sad truth is, we can do absolutely nothing but drink two cups of super sugary coffee hoping the caffeine shot brings us back to normalcy.
I plugged in my headphones hoping the music will wash away sleepiness, but nothing happened. So here I am trying to blog away sleep. You can try it sometime too. Open some random notepad and start typing ABCDEF forward and backwards.

This is where I miss college; the minute I felt sleepy or if the class was remotely sleep inducing there were three options; a) walking out of the class in pretence of drinking water, b) fake a headache and sleep off on the desk. Yes even if I was in the front bench right under the boring Profs nose. c) This was not the easiest, but certainly the best option – wait until the 10min break came along, sneak out to the hostel and sleep.

Thinking about being sleepy-dweepy and how even writing a blog post isn’t helping me; I remember a similar situation back in college. Long back yea sometime in my 3rd semester, I had opted for this subject called “Security Analysis and Portfolio Management”. The Prof was discussing some Risk Mitigation techniques using Alpha and Beta Values and something on Risk Spread. For the record, this is all I remember about the session.

10minutes into the session, when I couldn’t take it anymore I borrowed Ms. PB Nair’s amrutanjan balm; the menthol in it does wonders to drive away sleep. I applied a little on my forehead. With the ammunition in place, I drifted into dreamspace; risk spread gave way to cheese spread, cheese spread gave way to pasta and the long cylindrical pasta dripping with cheese was standing right before my eyes. Then the pasta split lengthwise and looked like a cheese slice. Yeah you get the drift don’t you? I woke up with a thud! – I had landed on the desk (which was previously mistaken as pasta cheese slice lookalike.)

Coming back to reality; I cannot sleep now. The Senior Analyst sits one cube away; the manager sits diagonally behind me. And there’s a project riding on my back. Here they pay me, there my folks paid and I slept through sessions. Such is the irony of growing up.  We’re taught to be more professional and are expected to follow a certain code of conduct and etiquette.

Thinking about it now, I cannot help but thank a certain Prof who insisted that we learn the fine art of “stifling yawns”, “sleeping with our eyes open” and “acting like we’re paying attention”.

The paradox is – you cannot sleep! You can only lose sleep over projects, deadlines and the paraphernalia that tag along.

Long long ago I wanted colleges to have sleeping pods. Now I so wish companies do the same. Please allot a little room beside the conference or meeting rooms to sleep and make sure its sound proof. No glass windows please.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

To The Girls



**one awesome forward that I could not resist posting :) " 
To all you girls out there; for just being there!




What's so poignant about this picture? 
Well, it shows a line of little girls holding hands facing the immensity of ocean waves.
Alone they might be washed away, but together they stand strong.
Thank you each for holding my hand somewhere along the way 
when I was facing a wave of my own. 
I hope you will reach for my hand when your own wave threatens.
 

cid:1.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
All of us girls..
Old and  young...
 
Near and far...
Hold special memories of good times we've shared.
 
We've had our share of hard times when our friends were there to make us feel better. 
We've shared...
Our hearts
Our time
 
Our secrets 
Our fears
Our hopes
 
And our dreams.
Let us never break the chain of friends! 

cid:2.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
cid:3.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
If you get this twice or more, you are lucky to have more than one girlfriend.

Someone will always be prettier. 

cid:4.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
Someone will always be smarter. 
cid:5.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
Their house will be bigger. 
cid:6.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
They will drive a better car. 
cid:7.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
Their children will do better in school. 
cid:8.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
And their husband will fix more things around the house. 
cid:9.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
So let it go,
Be Happy!
And love yourself and your circumstances.

Think about it. 
cid:10.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
The prettiest woman in the world can have trouble in her heart.
And the most highly favored woman on your job may be unable to have children.
And the richest woman you know, she's got the car, the house, the clothes....might be lonely.
And the Word says 'If I have not Love, I have nothing.' 

cid:11.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
So, again, love you.
Love who you are.
Look in the mirror in the morning and smile and say 

cid:12.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
'I am too blessed to be stressed too anointed to be disappointed!'
I like  that!
'Winners make things happen.
Losers let things  happen'
Be Blessed ladies and pass this on to encourage another woman.
'To the world you might be one person,
But to one person you just might be the world.
 
cid:13.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com

cid:14.1668626524@web94710.mail.in2.yahoo.com
HERE'S TO YOU MY FRIENDS   

Friday, March 18, 2011

Don't You Wish?



I had just returned from one those painful waxing-threading sessions. My eyebrows were still red with the  after-effects. And when I opened my Inbox; I found this.

This goes out to all you womenfolk out there.
How we wish we could be bears even now :D



Laugh out loud and pass it along  :-)

Cheers!

Monday, March 7, 2011

Manufacturing Process



Warning: Extremely Loo..ong post ahead.

Match-making is not child’s play; shortlisting a profile is one thing, horoscopes matching is another. The horoscopes matched with a certain guy. One thing led to another and they decided to “meet up”.

Neesu and Neelu were rather surprised to know that I hadn’t done any background research on the guy. So we unsuccessfully tried to search for him on the “profile viewed” section on tamil-matri, we found a rather toned down profile on linkedin and facebook.

The band and the baaja entered with a bang, the missing component was a baraat . We were locked in my room, and were given strict instructions not to make any noise. Adi was strategically made to sit with the band because I wanted “insiders’ scoop”. The conversations had started; people were laughing randomly, the customary exchange of pleasantries and all that jazz.  The shy, coy, reserved, chamathu Iyer girl was summoned with a serving plate with coffee tumblers arranged in a row. I heard Adi chuckle to himself.
With all the tamasha happening, the band decided that I must have a chat with the CA boy. 

Thus the Manufacturing Process began.

For starters, the guy was on auto-pilot mode. From driving the car at 20kmph, to making small talk. The guy had come prepared with a set of questions. I think these matchmaking people have a ready recokner of sorts; how else can you explain the slew of predictable questions and equally predictable answers from his side? I think his mom would’ve trained him for a week before the big day, plus he was a chartered accountant - so the attempt of trying to tally the balance sheet was quite evident.

From the minute we stepped into the coffee shop until we left – he never let go of his auto-pilot mode of transmission. The person who programmed his brain cells should’ve been some Microsoft / Oracle Certified Software Professional. The function number-1 defined on the program was – about himself. It was a paragraph of “self proclamation”.

Neesu and Adi intercepted him with their slew of questions. Everything from what are your hobbies, how do you spend your weekends, are you a foodie, etc; were fielded pretty well.  The two of them took total control of the situation, tried to make him comfortable, cracked jokes worth laughing at. In a nutshell they were pulling his legs, literally.

The guy decided; it is better to give in than fight it out. Thus began the “mee-too war”. He was on a futile mission to prove that he was one among us – outspoken, outgoing, fun loving and bunch of go-getters.
You needn’t be an expert at behavioural sciences to understand that the guy was faking it. He was none of the above; he was your standard guy – grew up in a suburb, a proper hen-pecked guy, an absolute bookworm who knew zilch about the outside world.

The junta then decided that the guy and I should have a private chat. The tallying the balance sheet process had begun – the monologue began. The guy showed no interest in knowing anything about me. He rattled a lot about himself including the fact that he scored 95 in Maths in class 10. After every paragraph, there was a short pause; more like “any questions/ any doubts?”
The guy was amazingly fixed in terms of ideas and thought process. PS: He admits that he doesn’t drink anything but Aztec in CCD. WTF man! If you can’t experiment with something as simple as coffee, what is the assurance that you will try something like “chakkarai Pongal flavoured ice cream” at Saravana Bhavan?. Forget Ice creams and coffee, the guy was just plain rigid. He wanted me to work, I gave him an indirect answer that I don’t see myself in corporate slaughterhouses for way too long.

At one point the pause was a little longer, so I decided to showcase my oratory skills – only with a better accent and flawless English.

With this, my interest dwindled and the values were in negative by the time we left the coffee shop. I had made a mental note of rejecting the guy; the wavelengths did not match.

The manufacturing process had then come to a grinding halt.

Just when we were leaving the coffee shop, the guy looks at Adi and said “Adi, I like you man”. Poor Adi was shell-shocked for the rest of the evening.

But what had me shell-shocked was the fact that, this guy had made it to the good books of the man in question (Appa); which is as good as Vashishtar Vaayal Brahma-Rishi.

PS: I don’t mean to demean the guy, this was my personal opinion. Frankly speaking, I wasn’t impressed. He mentioned that he pursued his B.Com and CA, symmetrically. Yeah, you read that right. 

PS1: this guy was plain boring. There was absolutely no mental connect whatsoever. I’m not talking about “Hosanna in the background”, I’m talking about simple common interests or atleast a platform with some scope for improvement.

PS2: The poor little CA was a little taken aback when he realised I was not the demure one. He wasn’t able to come to terms with the fact that I was actually way too outgoing, a little too outspoken, forward thinking and not his type.

PS3: it’s ok CA boy, I totally second your opinion, I dint like you either. I’m sure you’ll find your demure woman from Meenakshi College who has passed her B.Com with distinction.

PS4: The guy’s family called and we turned down the request last Sunday. We were mourning the loss of my Paati, but we truly celebrated the rejection.