AR speaketh...

The questions, the answers, the thoughts, the ideas and the other crap that make me, well, me.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

What are you doing here?

Foreword: I mean, this blog has not been updated in ages! Why would you even want to check? For all you know, I could be dead in my 312 square feet apartment with maggots feasting on my body and remarking that they really hate the taste of software engineers. Or, I could be involved in a major planet saving enterprise which, sadly, is so critical that it must not be talked about. Like playing Ludo against myself. But now that you are here, I might as well make it worth your while (yeah right!) .

I’m on a constant quest to improve myself. Hahahahahahahahahaha… Hell that’s funny. Everybody knows I’m perfect. I just thought that would be a neat way to catch those of you who aren’t paying attention. Anyway, I recently read an article that talked about the 13 Ps of purpose. Yeah it was one of those quizzes that, if you know the answers to, you don’t need and if you don’t, you can’t use anyway. Broadly meant as a compass to chart your life (damn, I can sound lofty!), it asks two sets of questions: where are you? And where are you going? If you can answer those, I have a third one: what are you doing here? I’m going to attempt to answer these here. (Notice how I use the phrase “attempt to answer”, instead of “going to answer”? No, this is not the result of new found humility, it is for those not paying attention. Gotcha!)

Where am I?
I am (or, at least was at the time of writing this) in front of my computer wondering whether having Maggi for dinner for the 217th consecutive weekday would impact the local cereal farmers and my digestion adversely.

Having dispensed with the disgustingly petty, let me now tell you where I am, philosophically. I am NOT at the crossroads in my life. In fact I have never been at any crossroad, as it were, in my entire life. The to-be-done has been done and continues to be done without fuss, thanks largely to a high fibre intake. In the not so alimentary department, I have become an existentialist, meaning, I can conduct an entire conversation in halting, disconnected sentences while looking over my company’s shoulder. Also, I have found out that trust is what you are at the receiving end of when your one-year-old niece puts her head on your shoulder when you pick her up. Or that could be goo on your shirt. Depends on whether you are a romantic.

Where am I going?
We have already established that I am not at or near any crossroads and as far as I can see (three feet, without my glasses) I’m probably going straight ahead. Which, in a macro sense, is not true, what with the earth’s rotation, revolution and the curved space-time. Why do you want to know anyway? Is this query purely a manifestation of your underlying insecurities? Heck, I’ll tell you nevertheless: I am going on an ego trip. In fact, I’ve been on one for as long as I can remember (umm, what was I going to say here?) and the journey has been fun, including the bathroom breaks. I don’t quite know about the future, even Einstein didn’t, but I am certain it cannot be more obnoxious than I am. Meaning, I will survive it, but will it survive me? But, this is not about me. (Like hell it is! Got you again, you moron! You have the attention span of a teenager thinking about sex in class.) Oh, and since you must have the insignificant details, you will survive it too.

What am I doing here?
Now this is the one that, I must confess, has me completely stumped. Why have I not been handpicked by Bill Gates, Larry Ellison and Warren Buffet to take over their sorry business empires, yet? Have these guys completely lost it? Frankly, I thought they had the vision to spot talent. Or is it that the sheer magnitude of my abilities has paralyzed their once enviable mental faculties?
But that is quite all right, for there is important work to be done. Like waltzing with my one year old niece. Pum pum pum.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my counters out of the base. Ludo beats the crap out of chess.

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