the coffee cup overflows.
happens when my mind is somewhere else,
oh why did this evening have to be so beautiful,
the flowers and the scents remind me of you
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The Travails of a Superhero
Ever so often, I go into these phases, where I think I'm invincible and the world can't lay a hand on me. This is often accompanied by long sessions in front of the bathroom mirror, where I'd examine my muscles, keep fantasizing about being the Man of Steel and how I'd fly around the world rescuing damsels in distress. Sadly, it doesn't take very long for these delusions to be shattered. Most times, my nemesis would take the shape of a jam bottle.
Roommate would ask me to open it because I was the one who used it last time, and I'd better get it open for him again. My first reaction is to snicker at his relative weakness, and declare that all I had to do was to focus, stare the bottle down, and it would pop open out of sheer shame. This would be followed by a minute of so of directing all the Jedi power I possessed on that evil thing on the table. It would just stare back with a baleful grin and perhaps even laugh manically at my sheer ineffectiveness. In the recesses of my mind I would hear Yoda's voice at the Jedi Council saying "Jedi, he is not. Weak, in the force he is. For him, bathroom cleaner is better job".
With a blood-curdling yell, that would make Tarzan proud. I launch myself across the room, and the bottle and I would be engaged in hand-to-hand combat across the entire apartment. Nothing in the room would remain untouched. We'd fight on the dining table-top, roll across the floor to the drawing room, bang our heads against the wall, burn each other with a little fire. All the time, I'd have my hands around its scrawny neck, but the bottle possesses the strength of a hundred Hindi Movie Heros. Soon, all my energy would be spent and my ego would be a pale shadow of its former self, while the bottle emerged unscathed. With my head bent in shame and failure, I'd declare that the jam bottle was an adversary with skills way beyond my limited capabilities. Filled with utter dejection, I then hand it over to my third roommate. He would be engrossed in chatting with his million girlfriends, and he'd be like "Can't you see i'm busy???? Stop bothering me." Then with a skill that presaged extensive practice, he'd removes one of his hands from the keyboard, flicks his fingers with one easy movement and .. ta da..., the bottle lays open!! Utterly humiliating to say the least.
Of course, this state of affairs doesn't last too long, Who cares about being the strongest person in the world. Arnold Schwarznegger?? Yeah, but who really gives two hoots about him. I'd trade brawn for brains anyday. So, the next few hours are spent like Dexter. My mind would be churning out inventions that would bring teleportation to reality, flying cars and a quick fix solution to global warming.
uhho!.. I just remembered that I have mid-term tomorrow and I haven't done a blessed thing . My professor obviously doesn't give a damn about all my other inventions.
Darn, The world is so hostile to us geniuses!!
Roommate would ask me to open it because I was the one who used it last time, and I'd better get it open for him again. My first reaction is to snicker at his relative weakness, and declare that all I had to do was to focus, stare the bottle down, and it would pop open out of sheer shame. This would be followed by a minute of so of directing all the Jedi power I possessed on that evil thing on the table. It would just stare back with a baleful grin and perhaps even laugh manically at my sheer ineffectiveness. In the recesses of my mind I would hear Yoda's voice at the Jedi Council saying "Jedi, he is not. Weak, in the force he is. For him, bathroom cleaner is better job".
With a blood-curdling yell, that would make Tarzan proud. I launch myself across the room, and the bottle and I would be engaged in hand-to-hand combat across the entire apartment. Nothing in the room would remain untouched. We'd fight on the dining table-top, roll across the floor to the drawing room, bang our heads against the wall, burn each other with a little fire. All the time, I'd have my hands around its scrawny neck, but the bottle possesses the strength of a hundred Hindi Movie Heros. Soon, all my energy would be spent and my ego would be a pale shadow of its former self, while the bottle emerged unscathed. With my head bent in shame and failure, I'd declare that the jam bottle was an adversary with skills way beyond my limited capabilities. Filled with utter dejection, I then hand it over to my third roommate. He would be engrossed in chatting with his million girlfriends, and he'd be like "Can't you see i'm busy???? Stop bothering me." Then with a skill that presaged extensive practice, he'd removes one of his hands from the keyboard, flicks his fingers with one easy movement and .. ta da..., the bottle lays open!! Utterly humiliating to say the least.
Of course, this state of affairs doesn't last too long, Who cares about being the strongest person in the world. Arnold Schwarznegger?? Yeah, but who really gives two hoots about him. I'd trade brawn for brains anyday. So, the next few hours are spent like Dexter. My mind would be churning out inventions that would bring teleportation to reality, flying cars and a quick fix solution to global warming.
uhho!.. I just remembered that I have mid-term tomorrow and I haven't done a blessed thing . My professor obviously doesn't give a damn about all my other inventions.
Darn, The world is so hostile to us geniuses!!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Moving Houses!
I have a friend, lets call her Cartoon and she moved house last weekend. Out of the host of the reasons that were given, the only one that I agreed with, was that she wanted to be able to walk to office again. Apparently, ever since she bought her car, her pedometer readings were behaving like the stock exchanges all over the world - plunging downwards and with no bottom in sight.
Her moving sent me on a nostalgia trip on the shifting and transfers that I've had to do. This place I'm staying in now, is number 17 on the list of places that I've called home. Not bad for 26 yrs. Appa being in the Navy, was of course a major factor. But the funny thing is that, at least 40% of all the shifts, were purely due to my movements. The biggest of course, was the one where I had to haul my ass all the way to the US. The most memorable, was the one where we moved from Vizag to Cochin.
Vizag was one place where we spent the longest time - 3 yrs. Most of best childhood memories are drawn from there - huge gang of utterly crazy friends, mindless evenings cycling around Naval Park, learning to roller-skate, gossiping under the banyan, falling in hopelessly in love, and other such crazy childhood stuff. So obviously, I was quite disappointed when we actually had to move.
You could trust Appa and Amma to ensure that the packing was as organized as possible. Boxes were numbered and we knew what numbers mapped to what. Kitchen stuff was in numbers 5-7, the stereo, its huge speakers and the vinyl records in box 13. We even had the keys grouped together. I could tell which key opened which box simply by looking at it. One of the more exciting things about some of the boxes was that, Appa was able to get hold of a few discarded missile cases. I remember getting this huge thrill in thinking that my books were sitting the same boxes that until a couple of months ago, were carrying rocket-heads from Russia.
We decided to drive down all the way to Cochin. Seems impossible that we could have planned a trip without access to stuff like Google Maps and Weather.com, but it was a lot of fun poring over paper maps and tracing out the routes that we would take. We did it over 3 days. Vizag to Guntur; Guntur to Arakonam and the final leg from Arakonam to Cochin. This was in the peak of the Andhra summer and in some ways, was not exactly the smartest thing to do. How Appa and Amma drove through those 16oo odd kilometers, in a tiny Maruti 800 (without A/C mind you), packed to the brim and carrying two irritated kids in the back-seat is still a wonder. The Guntur to Arakonam stretch was horrible. It was searingly hot, no tree cover anywhere and no amount of water could quench our thirst. This is the Rice Bowl of Andhra Pradesh, and if we had the heart, all we had to do was look out the window and gaze upon fields and fields of lush green paddy, offering a stark contrast to the parched brown earth around it. But of course, the heat banished all such thoughts from our minds. The trees started making their presence felt closer to Arakonam and I don't think I'd ever been so happy for the shade. Nevertheless, all this gave the entire trip a totally adventurous air, and when we rolled into Cochin, the feeling of supreme satisfaction was hard to beat.
Our luggage had an even more eventual journey. All the trunks had been sent in a truck, it was supposed to be following the same route as we were, and we did in fact pass it a couple of times along the way. However, on reaching Cochin, there was no sign of the truck. We waited for 48 hrs plus and there was still no news. This was in the days before mobile phones, and we had no idea whether those truckers had just run away all our stuff. Such a situation would be inconceivable now. Appa then got on the hunt, and soon discovered that the truck had broken down in between, and of all things, the axle had broken! Anyway, things were transferred to another truck and for two bored boys, who were desperately waiting for their toys, it couldn't have come any sooner.
Similar performances were repeated every two years, so over time, moving houses wasn't really a big deal anymore. I have my parents to thank for having such a balanced attitude towards this. Sure, you were losing friends and moving into unfamiliar territory, but it would just take little patience and little willingness to adapt, and things would be all hunky-dory again. Nostalgia and sentimental attachment had their place but they were kept firmly in check.
So, all this thinking started with Cartoon moving out and it should be fitting that it should end with a quote from her. I wanted to find out how she liked her new place.
me: so how's the new place ?
Cartoon: still sinking in.
me: oh didnt know that you'd moved into the Titanic.
Cartoon: arghhhh!! *stabbing herself with a huge kitchen knife*
Her moving sent me on a nostalgia trip on the shifting and transfers that I've had to do. This place I'm staying in now, is number 17 on the list of places that I've called home. Not bad for 26 yrs. Appa being in the Navy, was of course a major factor. But the funny thing is that, at least 40% of all the shifts, were purely due to my movements. The biggest of course, was the one where I had to haul my ass all the way to the US. The most memorable, was the one where we moved from Vizag to Cochin.
Vizag was one place where we spent the longest time - 3 yrs. Most of best childhood memories are drawn from there - huge gang of utterly crazy friends, mindless evenings cycling around Naval Park, learning to roller-skate, gossiping under the banyan, falling in hopelessly in love, and other such crazy childhood stuff. So obviously, I was quite disappointed when we actually had to move.
You could trust Appa and Amma to ensure that the packing was as organized as possible. Boxes were numbered and we knew what numbers mapped to what. Kitchen stuff was in numbers 5-7, the stereo, its huge speakers and the vinyl records in box 13. We even had the keys grouped together. I could tell which key opened which box simply by looking at it. One of the more exciting things about some of the boxes was that, Appa was able to get hold of a few discarded missile cases. I remember getting this huge thrill in thinking that my books were sitting the same boxes that until a couple of months ago, were carrying rocket-heads from Russia.
We decided to drive down all the way to Cochin. Seems impossible that we could have planned a trip without access to stuff like Google Maps and Weather.com, but it was a lot of fun poring over paper maps and tracing out the routes that we would take. We did it over 3 days. Vizag to Guntur; Guntur to Arakonam and the final leg from Arakonam to Cochin. This was in the peak of the Andhra summer and in some ways, was not exactly the smartest thing to do. How Appa and Amma drove through those 16oo odd kilometers, in a tiny Maruti 800 (without A/C mind you), packed to the brim and carrying two irritated kids in the back-seat is still a wonder. The Guntur to Arakonam stretch was horrible. It was searingly hot, no tree cover anywhere and no amount of water could quench our thirst. This is the Rice Bowl of Andhra Pradesh, and if we had the heart, all we had to do was look out the window and gaze upon fields and fields of lush green paddy, offering a stark contrast to the parched brown earth around it. But of course, the heat banished all such thoughts from our minds. The trees started making their presence felt closer to Arakonam and I don't think I'd ever been so happy for the shade. Nevertheless, all this gave the entire trip a totally adventurous air, and when we rolled into Cochin, the feeling of supreme satisfaction was hard to beat.
Our luggage had an even more eventual journey. All the trunks had been sent in a truck, it was supposed to be following the same route as we were, and we did in fact pass it a couple of times along the way. However, on reaching Cochin, there was no sign of the truck. We waited for 48 hrs plus and there was still no news. This was in the days before mobile phones, and we had no idea whether those truckers had just run away all our stuff. Such a situation would be inconceivable now. Appa then got on the hunt, and soon discovered that the truck had broken down in between, and of all things, the axle had broken! Anyway, things were transferred to another truck and for two bored boys, who were desperately waiting for their toys, it couldn't have come any sooner.
Similar performances were repeated every two years, so over time, moving houses wasn't really a big deal anymore. I have my parents to thank for having such a balanced attitude towards this. Sure, you were losing friends and moving into unfamiliar territory, but it would just take little patience and little willingness to adapt, and things would be all hunky-dory again. Nostalgia and sentimental attachment had their place but they were kept firmly in check.
So, all this thinking started with Cartoon moving out and it should be fitting that it should end with a quote from her. I wanted to find out how she liked her new place.
me: so how's the new place ?
Cartoon: still sinking in.
me: oh didnt know that you'd moved into the Titanic.
Cartoon: arghhhh!! *stabbing herself with a huge kitchen knife*
Monday, November 17, 2008
The Day I Get My First Job Offer
Hey Nameless,
Mark the date! Delirious with happiness? Yes, you could say that. In fact I'm so happy that I can't even think. I've no idea how I'm even able to generate a train of thought logical enough to write this post. Remember that line from "Into the Wild". Alex is about to die and he writes in his book "Happiness is real only when shared". I think today I really know what it means.
You should have seen me in the morning, when I read that mail from that manager. God! I was frantic(yes, frantic is the word!). My first instinct was to call someone, anyone. This was too big for to keep to myself for even a second. I look for my phone I can't find it. I throw the bedsheets around, the pillow covers, the books on the table and I just can't find it. I even went into the bathroom. The places where I can keep my phone is another post in itself. You try it man, you have this news bursting out of you, you're all alone in your hotel room and you can't find your phone, lets see how long you last.
Well, thankfully N was online, and with due apologies to him, this is the transcript of my chat history.
me: arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh
arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh
arghhhhhhhhhhhh
when i want the phone i cant find it
N: haha!
me: yuck yuck yuck!!
N: what!
no use..
me: i got the offer!!!!
N: let it sleep away!
me: arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
arghh
N: WOW
me: i want to call you!!!
arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
N: wait
me: arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
N: come on line
So, that's how it came to pass that the first person to hear the news of my getting the job offer had to be told using GoogleTalk!
Too many conflicting feelings. Worry and hope in one small head. Nothing is confirmed as yet. Haven't got the offer letter or anything, just this mail. You can always take the long view that nothing is confirmed until the day you actually start work. Feelings of impatience - I'm sitting in the plane back home and typing this post - and I'm trying to put the plane in warp speed with my thoughts. Two hours in a plane is way too long when you want to really really get home.
Of course, I was worried before this. This was the last interview scheduled with this company, for the forseeable future at least, and ahead seemed another not-so-enticing-round of emailing and applying. I consider myself really lucky to have gotten even these three calls. Quite a lot of luck involved actually. Others have been struggling to get even one. Of course, it really helps when everyone is so supportive and always encouraging you to stay positive - close Friends and family. I don't know where I got the notion that I was the Lone Ranger, it is so untrue. I've realized that I can't get by without tons of help, at every single step. I wouldn't have survived for a minute without these guys.
Anyway, it came through at the very last minute.
Of course I'm really excited about the team and the work. It is exactly what I want to do and the people I talked to were just great. The location is also supposed to be really nice and has a ton of other companies around too. Well, lets see how this works out.
For today at least, the future is rosy!
cheers,
day-dreamer
Mark the date! Delirious with happiness? Yes, you could say that. In fact I'm so happy that I can't even think. I've no idea how I'm even able to generate a train of thought logical enough to write this post. Remember that line from "Into the Wild". Alex is about to die and he writes in his book "Happiness is real only when shared". I think today I really know what it means.
You should have seen me in the morning, when I read that mail from that manager. God! I was frantic(yes, frantic is the word!). My first instinct was to call someone, anyone. This was too big for to keep to myself for even a second. I look for my phone I can't find it. I throw the bedsheets around, the pillow covers, the books on the table and I just can't find it. I even went into the bathroom. The places where I can keep my phone is another post in itself. You try it man, you have this news bursting out of you, you're all alone in your hotel room and you can't find your phone, lets see how long you last.
Well, thankfully N was online, and with due apologies to him, this is the transcript of my chat history.
me: arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh
arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh
arghhhhhhhhhhhh
when i want the phone i cant find it
N: haha!
me: yuck yuck yuck!!
N: what!
no use..
me: i got the offer!!!!
N: let it sleep away!
me: arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
arghh
N: WOW
me: i want to call you!!!
arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
N: wait
me: arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
N: come on line
So, that's how it came to pass that the first person to hear the news of my getting the job offer had to be told using GoogleTalk!
Too many conflicting feelings. Worry and hope in one small head. Nothing is confirmed as yet. Haven't got the offer letter or anything, just this mail. You can always take the long view that nothing is confirmed until the day you actually start work. Feelings of impatience - I'm sitting in the plane back home and typing this post - and I'm trying to put the plane in warp speed with my thoughts. Two hours in a plane is way too long when you want to really really get home.
Of course, I was worried before this. This was the last interview scheduled with this company, for the forseeable future at least, and ahead seemed another not-so-enticing-round of emailing and applying. I consider myself really lucky to have gotten even these three calls. Quite a lot of luck involved actually. Others have been struggling to get even one. Of course, it really helps when everyone is so supportive and always encouraging you to stay positive - close Friends and family. I don't know where I got the notion that I was the Lone Ranger, it is so untrue. I've realized that I can't get by without tons of help, at every single step. I wouldn't have survived for a minute without these guys.
Anyway, it came through at the very last minute.
Of course I'm really excited about the team and the work. It is exactly what I want to do and the people I talked to were just great. The location is also supposed to be really nice and has a ton of other companies around too. Well, lets see how this works out.
For today at least, the future is rosy!
cheers,
day-dreamer
Saturday, November 15, 2008
The Secret of A Successful Rajma Masala
The only way to survive in the US is to cook. Cook as often as you can and in all the variety that you can muster, and your life will be a bed of roses. There are only so many times that you can eat a Subway sandwich for a meal.
“What would you like sir?”
“A footlong. Bread - Italian Herb and Cheese. Oven-roasted Chicken. All the vegetables."
“What about a drink?”
“This is in itself, going to turn into fat in places where I don’t want it, and you want me to add a sugar-laden drink with no nutritive value on top of that?? Sure why not … One large coke please.”
Of course there a variations on this, but it mostly goes like this
“What would you like sir?”
“Oh you’ve changed your menu. Hmm let me think now….. Still thinking… ok got it! A footlong. Bread - Italian Herb and Cheese. Oven-roasted Chicken. All the vegetables. ”
My roommates rock when it comes to cooking matters. This doesn’t mean that their food they make tastes like rocks, but yeah pretty close to it. It actually helps that we left our tastebuds back in India. They are actually pretty cool people, and generally open to trying out a whole lot of stuff. However, there’s one thing, they draw the line on - Rajma masala, specifically MY Rajma masala. No amount of convincing, pushing, pleading or even begging is going to get them to eat that. If tomorrow an asteroid were to strike the Earth and we were the only survivors, and the only food around was Rajma, they would rather die than eat that stuff. I guess I do have take some of the blame for this. It all boils down to one unfortunate experience about 18 months ago.
We had just moved in together and the first few weeks were a time of heady experimentation in terms of food. Actually, the term “we” would be quite a misnomer. Roshith, decided very early on that he was born to make chicken-curry. He said he had a recipe passed down from his ancestors and that we were just lucky to be his roommates. Soon we realized that his ancestor must have been Neanderthal Man himself, because the chicken was so tough that we had to chew for ages. None of us needed chewing gum after that, just eat a piece of chicken and chew on it all day long. His idea of experimenting with food was whether to cook it on Wednesday or Thursday. He had the feeling that the position of the stars influenced the taste in some way.
Jobi for a long time had a “egg curry” as his standard. This was before he discovered the joys of the oven. Once, he realized that with an oven, the working time could be reduced to 10 minutes, there was no stopping him. Chop onions, tomatoes, sprinkle a little masala and smear it on the fish and throw into the oven. He liked the idea that oil usage was close to minimal. One hour later, smelling something burning he would come to investigate, only to find that … Horror of Horrors!!! …. Anyway, we got used to eating his “very blackened grilled fish”.
Sarath on the other hand is a machine. You don’t see machines making very many mistakes do you? People rave about his sambhar from east coast to the west coast. And his cabbage thoran? Waahh. Amma, I’m sorry but you don’t come close. Obviously, this is an anomaly right? You stand a better chance of going on a long winning streak in Vegas, than having a grad student who is a good cook for a roommate. It was too good to be true and I discovered the scary secret one night. It was his Macbook all along. He was actually being controlled by it.
Sarath: So how much oil should I put?
Macbook : Oh wait! How many Vista users? 3? Ok, then make sure you use the coconut oil. It will kill them of Heart Disease faster.
Sarath: Why are you helping me cook good food? Isn’t it easier to poison?
Macbook: Good food will make them fat. Fat people buy the Macbook Air as it reminds them of their slimmer self.
Both: Mogambo kush ho jayega ….. MUHAAHA HAHA HA.
So I guess, that leaves me and my rajma masala. Oh well, somehow don’t feel like revealing the secret just now. Maybe I’ll just let it die with me. I’m sure my roommates would be only too pleased for that to happen.
“What would you like sir?”
“A footlong. Bread - Italian Herb and Cheese. Oven-roasted Chicken. All the vegetables."
“What about a drink?”
“This is in itself, going to turn into fat in places where I don’t want it, and you want me to add a sugar-laden drink with no nutritive value on top of that?? Sure why not … One large coke please.”
Of course there a variations on this, but it mostly goes like this
“What would you like sir?”
“Oh you’ve changed your menu. Hmm let me think now….. Still thinking… ok got it! A footlong. Bread - Italian Herb and Cheese. Oven-roasted Chicken. All the vegetables. ”
My roommates rock when it comes to cooking matters. This doesn’t mean that their food they make tastes like rocks, but yeah pretty close to it. It actually helps that we left our tastebuds back in India. They are actually pretty cool people, and generally open to trying out a whole lot of stuff. However, there’s one thing, they draw the line on - Rajma masala, specifically MY Rajma masala. No amount of convincing, pushing, pleading or even begging is going to get them to eat that. If tomorrow an asteroid were to strike the Earth and we were the only survivors, and the only food around was Rajma, they would rather die than eat that stuff. I guess I do have take some of the blame for this. It all boils down to one unfortunate experience about 18 months ago.
We had just moved in together and the first few weeks were a time of heady experimentation in terms of food. Actually, the term “we” would be quite a misnomer. Roshith, decided very early on that he was born to make chicken-curry. He said he had a recipe passed down from his ancestors and that we were just lucky to be his roommates. Soon we realized that his ancestor must have been Neanderthal Man himself, because the chicken was so tough that we had to chew for ages. None of us needed chewing gum after that, just eat a piece of chicken and chew on it all day long. His idea of experimenting with food was whether to cook it on Wednesday or Thursday. He had the feeling that the position of the stars influenced the taste in some way.
Jobi for a long time had a “egg curry” as his standard. This was before he discovered the joys of the oven. Once, he realized that with an oven, the working time could be reduced to 10 minutes, there was no stopping him. Chop onions, tomatoes, sprinkle a little masala and smear it on the fish and throw into the oven. He liked the idea that oil usage was close to minimal. One hour later, smelling something burning he would come to investigate, only to find that … Horror of Horrors!!! …. Anyway, we got used to eating his “very blackened grilled fish”.
Sarath on the other hand is a machine. You don’t see machines making very many mistakes do you? People rave about his sambhar from east coast to the west coast. And his cabbage thoran? Waahh. Amma, I’m sorry but you don’t come close. Obviously, this is an anomaly right? You stand a better chance of going on a long winning streak in Vegas, than having a grad student who is a good cook for a roommate. It was too good to be true and I discovered the scary secret one night. It was his Macbook all along. He was actually being controlled by it.
Sarath: So how much oil should I put?
Macbook : Oh wait! How many Vista users? 3? Ok, then make sure you use the coconut oil. It will kill them of Heart Disease faster.
Sarath: Why are you helping me cook good food? Isn’t it easier to poison?
Macbook: Good food will make them fat. Fat people buy the Macbook Air as it reminds them of their slimmer self.
Both: Mogambo kush ho jayega ….. MUHAAHA HAHA HA.
So I guess, that leaves me and my rajma masala. Oh well, somehow don’t feel like revealing the secret just now. Maybe I’ll just let it die with me. I’m sure my roommates would be only too pleased for that to happen.
Apples of Gold
Hey Nameless,
Picture this … a lobby in Intel, Austin. You’re here for an interview and your future is hanging by a thin thread. Then you see this sight and it just takes your breath away. It was so startlingly beautiful, that all you can do is to stare and stare and stare… the interview is the last thing on your mind.
A grey metal wall, recessed into the wood-panelling. There are these miniature bulbs on top, providing cones of diffused yellow light. Attached onto the wall are rows and rows of grey-metal blocks, probably about 10 cm x 10 cm. They are slightly raised, the same effect that you would have if you had rows of photo-frames. You can see some writing in black on them. You look closer and you see that each block has a name and below it, a technical title. You realize that these are inventors and the patents that they have filed. Obviously you can’t make head or tail of what you read, but you know you’re looking at the achievements of some of the best and smartest humans on the planet. The magnitude of their accomplishments just fills you with awe. And, not just one, but rows and rows of them. This is truly inspiring, but what really blows your mind is a the center-piece of this show. A huge black monolith, at the center. The writing is in white and the light gives it almost a heavenly glow. It had these words by Henry David Thoreau –
I can go on forever about my search for a quote that is truly good and lasts forever, but we’ll do that another day. I think Thoreau deserves to be in a post all by himself.
cheers,
day-dreamer
Picture this … a lobby in Intel, Austin. You’re here for an interview and your future is hanging by a thin thread. Then you see this sight and it just takes your breath away. It was so startlingly beautiful, that all you can do is to stare and stare and stare… the interview is the last thing on your mind.
A grey metal wall, recessed into the wood-panelling. There are these miniature bulbs on top, providing cones of diffused yellow light. Attached onto the wall are rows and rows of grey-metal blocks, probably about 10 cm x 10 cm. They are slightly raised, the same effect that you would have if you had rows of photo-frames. You can see some writing in black on them. You look closer and you see that each block has a name and below it, a technical title. You realize that these are inventors and the patents that they have filed. Obviously you can’t make head or tail of what you read, but you know you’re looking at the achievements of some of the best and smartest humans on the planet. The magnitude of their accomplishments just fills you with awe. And, not just one, but rows and rows of them. This is truly inspiring, but what really blows your mind is a the center-piece of this show. A huge black monolith, at the center. The writing is in white and the light gives it almost a heavenly glow. It had these words by Henry David Thoreau –
“If one advances confidently in the direction of one's dreams, and endeavors to live the life which one has imagined, one will meet with a success unexpected in common hours”I guess, it was the spirit of that moment more than the display or the words. I wanted something to inspire me and this was just there, at the right time and right place. I’m a sucker for quotes. I know that most of the time they are pointless, trite statements taken out of context and applied to situations that the author might never have intended. But, like that saying from Proverbs 25:11 goes, “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver” (yes!!! I notice the irony – explaining the usefulness of quotes with the help of another one!).
I can go on forever about my search for a quote that is truly good and lasts forever, but we’ll do that another day. I think Thoreau deserves to be in a post all by himself.
cheers,
day-dreamer
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Names Don't Matter
Hey Nameless,
I'm sorry that had to be your name, but I was running out of patience.
Blogger, in its infinite wisdom, decided that the simplest way, would be to partition the process of setting you up, in to three steps. It declared that the first one would be to choose a name for you. Then would follow, the steps where I get to choose your template and the other good stuff. Now, I'm not sure if you've heard of Shivaji, but his tactic in his battles with the Mughal Empire was to capture all the smaller forts before training his guns (figuratively speaking of course) on the more difficult ones. Since I like to do the same thing, this whole linear process irritated me no less.
Getting a good name for you was a really painful exercise. Naming things is not exactly my strong-point. There will be a day (I sincerely hope not!!) when I would have to name my kid, I shudder at the very prospect. Amma would ask "So what do you have in mind?" I'd reply, "Err ... I think Frodo would be a nice name? how about Aragorn? Nice royal name it is."... *slap* turn the other cheek ..*slap*
My friends can come up with names at the drop of a hat. If the names they give for their computers is any indication. N calls his computer "Cray" - this is a beast that blazes forward at 300 MHz, and fantastically huge memory capacity of 128 MB. C is a left-hander and thinks the Sermon on the Mount should have added "Blessed are the left-handers, for they shall gain world-domination". Naturally his laptop is called Southpaw. My friend M one day declared "A rose by any other name, smells just as sweet", so I started calling her Rosie. Of course she didn't like it one bit.
Its not that I didn't try, but you would cringe if you saw the list of names I came up with - Muddled Memories, Four-Eyes Takes on the World, Life through the Laughing Gas. These were the best of the bunch, so you can imagine how bad the others were. In case you don't believe me, how does the Spectrum of a Smile sound. Satisfied? Good.
These names suck for another reason. I'd like to think of you as a person sometimes. Trust us homo-sapiens to humanize and put our characteristics on all the objects around us, but yeah that's one of our endearing traits too. So think about it, you Nameless, can be anyone you want to be. On the days you feel like singing, you can be Maria Von Trapp and when you are clumsy you are Po the Kung-fu Panda. I can imagine you being Genelia D'Souza one day and Shah Rukh Khan another day. Ahem... No. SRK is not allowed. Will Smith? Yeah, now you're talking. When you're feeling perky you'd be the "Swashbuckling Samurai" and the days you feeling down in the dumps, you could be "Moaning Myrtle". Yes, you're the Shape-Shifting Glob.
Just so you know, the inspiration for Nameless came from Jet-Li's character in "Hero". He was an angry young warrior who wanted to see the end of the Qin dynasty that had subjugated all the other chinese clans and unified the Middle Kingdom. Well, things didn't really work out for him (Jet Li) , but the movie is just too good. I'm sure you're not going to be as radical as he was but he had quite a bit of fire in him, and that will do you no harm.
So here's a toast to you Nameless. Maybe we should have met before, but life is too short for regrets
cheers,
day-dreamer
I'm sorry that had to be your name, but I was running out of patience.
Blogger, in its infinite wisdom, decided that the simplest way, would be to partition the process of setting you up, in to three steps. It declared that the first one would be to choose a name for you. Then would follow, the steps where I get to choose your template and the other good stuff. Now, I'm not sure if you've heard of Shivaji, but his tactic in his battles with the Mughal Empire was to capture all the smaller forts before training his guns (figuratively speaking of course) on the more difficult ones. Since I like to do the same thing, this whole linear process irritated me no less.
Getting a good name for you was a really painful exercise. Naming things is not exactly my strong-point. There will be a day (I sincerely hope not!!) when I would have to name my kid, I shudder at the very prospect. Amma would ask "So what do you have in mind?" I'd reply, "Err ... I think Frodo would be a nice name? how about Aragorn? Nice royal name it is.".
My friends can come up with names at the drop of a hat. If the names they give for their computers is any indication. N calls his computer "Cray" - this is a beast that blazes forward at 300 MHz, and fantastically huge memory capacity of 128 MB. C is a left-hander and thinks the Sermon on the Mount should have added "Blessed are the left-handers, for they shall gain world-domination". Naturally his laptop is called Southpaw. My friend M one day declared "A rose by any other name, smells just as sweet", so I started calling her Rosie. Of course she didn't like it one bit.
Its not that I didn't try, but you would cringe if you saw the list of names I came up with - Muddled Memories, Four-Eyes Takes on the World, Life through the Laughing Gas. These were the best of the bunch, so you can imagine how bad the others were. In case you don't believe me, how does the Spectrum of a Smile sound. Satisfied? Good.
These names suck for another reason. I'd like to think of you as a person sometimes. Trust us homo-sapiens to humanize and put our characteristics on all the objects around us, but yeah that's one of our endearing traits too. So think about it, you Nameless, can be anyone you want to be. On the days you feel like singing, you can be Maria Von Trapp and when you are clumsy you are Po the Kung-fu Panda. I can imagine you being Genelia D'Souza one day and Shah Rukh Khan another day. Ahem... No. SRK is not allowed. Will Smith? Yeah, now you're talking. When you're feeling perky you'd be the "Swashbuckling Samurai" and the days you feeling down in the dumps, you could be "Moaning Myrtle". Yes, you're the Shape-Shifting Glob.
Just so you know, the inspiration for Nameless came from Jet-Li's character in "Hero". He was an angry young warrior who wanted to see the end of the Qin dynasty that had subjugated all the other chinese clans and unified the Middle Kingdom. Well, things didn't really work out for him (Jet Li) , but the movie is just too good. I'm sure you're not going to be as radical as he was but he had quite a bit of fire in him, and that will do you no harm.
So here's a toast to you Nameless. Maybe we should have met before, but life is too short for regrets
cheers,
day-dreamer
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