I Can Haz Power-Nap?

I haven’t been working or writing and the temper issues have resurfaced. Writing, as I keep telling myself, is what I’m inherently non-shitty at. Why, then, do I not write on a regular basis? The answer, quite simply, is that my allele for procrastination is unfortunately dominant over my allele for working. Sitting down and actually using this mass of grey and white matter dozing lamely atop my skull is something I cannot bring myself to do very often. Mostly, I’m actually lazy enough to even put off sleeping. I mean, I actually think “Meh can’t be bothered to sleep”. I lack willpower and ATPs, and I have too much fat and resignation in my system already. I’m seventeen, for crying out loud! Why do I loll around all day, waiting for a lightning bolt to jolt me into activity? I should be up and running! I am the power! I can and must do this!

On second thought, there’s always a bar of chocolate and a seventy-nine billionth reading of Lord of the Rings lurking around the corner, nipping all planned activity in the bud. Even thinking about activity tires me. I just wasn’t born a “doer”, folks. I was made to lay back and comment on the trivial activities of my fellow sapiens, and that is all I am remotely good at. Do I see myself as a great thinker, scientist, writer, poet, philosopher, politician, lawyer, entrepreneur, or anything of the sort? No. However, unfortunately, my own musings about myself count for very little because the people around me staunchly believe in my lucky stars. It wouldn’t be polite to disappoint them. So, on that note, I am applying for “higher education”, despite the fact that dropping out definitely sounds less demanding and infinitely more fun. Holy God, that poses a lot of problems. There are tests to appear for, essays to write, recommendations to weasel out, and a life (I’d like to think I possess one) to ignore and put on hold for the next six months. So, I ask myself, am I up for it? Probably not.

But hell, I’ve always liked acts of random cuckoo-ness, so why hold back? I hereby commit myself to this rollercoaster. Something inside me tells me it might not be a Six Flags ride, but one of the awesome rickety little bastards you find in Generic-Name-Abads all over Pakistan, but do I care? No. One thing I know is that my lazy self doesn’t want to die thinking “Hey, wait a min-POOF!” So, despite my misgivings and despite how I truly am not built for work, I’m going to give activity a shot.

Just after I take this power-nap I’ve been putting off, that is.

Work (Much Laughter, No Applause)

The only good thing about work is air-conditioning. Mark my words, children, and frame them in a gold frame and set them by your bed: "Work sucks balls".

Yes, I suppose that is a rather graphic way to express my dislike for work, but nothing less would suffice. Work sucks balls. Now, I haven't even begun officially working for any organization yet. All I'm doing is interning, and that too with a nice humanitarian organization. However, my first-hand experience of work is definitely not very positive. (What is it with me and understatements?)

First off, the hours are inhuman. One would suppose that toiling for nine-odd months in school for an amazingly large chunk of our lives would entitle us to some form of relaxation in our later years. Apparently not. 8:30 a.m, all the way through midday and up to 3:30 p.m, unless your employers want you to stay back, that is. I wonder who came up with the entire working-early-in-the-morning deal. IT'S SUMMER DAMN IT! At least let your interns come in at 11. But no, children, no such luck.

Second, the people. Even if you hadn't been stuck with a bunch of self-righteous old men trying to model you into a robotic slave (I kid my employers...but seriously :P), you would still realize that the people at your workplace are out to get you. There are no friendships in an office. (Said Eman Vader, in an icy, demonic voice. And thus a meme was born. Sorry, I'm rambling again) BUT SERIOUSLY. On a serious note, there is an immense amount of leg-pulling going on in the common Pakistani office, and the few instances that I was confronted with it have served to teach me a lot about human behavior. Clue: Suck up to your superiors or die. I'd heard about all this stuff before, but seeing it changed my naive perception about work colleagues. Oh well.

Third, well, I don't know. Hmm. It's pretty boring, once you're done with the work and the novelty wears off. I half expect these people to catch some form of cabin fever and go on a killing spree, decapitating everyone who annoys them, one by one. (Or maybe that's just me)

Oh, great. Now I'm supposed to go to some random office to learn some transferable (Read: disposable) skills. Sounds dodgy, mate. All hail Evo, or else I'd die in this place.

As a subtle parting thought: Balls to work.

It's Not Fun When You're Sober

I believe in signs. I believe in destiny, too, but that's irrelevant. So, yesterday, I happened to see a full double rainbow. Now, as much as I hate to admit it, I've always been something of a rainbow freak, and the sight of that too-bloody-awesome-to-be-true arc in the clear post-rain sky gave me a lot to think about.

See, I was quite depressed yesterday, and when I'm depressed, it takes a lot to cheer me up. A double rainbow falls in that category, I suppose, because it gave me hope. I don't know why, but I stared at it until it was out of sight.

I've always thought in shades of black, grey, white and a crude crimson. Now, I'm beginning to think that perhaps the rest of the spectrum is there for a reason, or else rainbows would be like zebra crossings.

Maybe it's time to let the colors in. After all, I do believe in signs, and I can't visualize a more obvious sign than a double rainbow. ;)

P.S: On a lighter, less pseudo-philosophical note, the rainbow reminded me of the viral Youtube video in which a stoned guy cries over a double rainbow. Too bad I was all out of Coke. XD