The Blueprint

Speak the truth or make your peace some other way. Its some other way, then. Life is a constant between multiple antagonists. I am still powerful and yet numbed by the present experiences. The fact that every man around here is a bitch in hideous disguise and that every woman is much worse, is not going to initiate my decline this time. I am a tough shell now. I am not human any more I guess. I am just an ivory tower. The discussion at work was agonizingly mediocre even in its anger content or that my fucking boss fails to be original even when expressing himself using the most natural and ready of all emotions– Anger. I must learn how to talk to ignoramus dickheads. Let me know of crash courses on this subject or if you can shed some light on techniques or on achieving success in the aforementioned art of communication. Gentle communiqué, though. We sit rooms without walls at work and we have tried sincerely to create some for ourselves. Psychological walls. Its excruciating to have to bend in front a pitiful two bit retain store hanger-incarnated-as-man , If anything had to cement my repulsion, this incident has to be it. So what exactly is the discord here? Well, in the name of innovation I must borrow content and structure for a lousy project from an equally lousy woman who is probably the real inspiration behind all soap operatic vamps on Indian TV. I sent three templates and yet the jerk superior decreed that they weren’t what were “required”. He now wants me to revisit those templates and carve the project out of those. Its ridiculous how hidden psychological complexes play up in this joint. We are so exceptionally gifted when it comes to doling out negativity to prove that we matter and hence you must consider us. We – the collective corporatedom. We tender more care to bruised egos than arms and dying is forgivable but a missed project delivery isn’t. Sometimes you sit back in the garish red and orange environs and rethink your life and wonder if there indeed is a project template in the idea factory and perhaps the team upstairs hasn’t gotten it right yet. Is my life an unstructured project?


~ by iconoplastic on July 25, 2006.

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