Haiku and I

Atwood talks about the past. When women existed within four walls. Yet without the limitations of imagination. It goes like this:
“Life was more joyful and innocent then, and at the same time permeated with guilt and terror, or at least the occasions for them, on the most daily level.
It was like the Japanese haiku: a limited form, rigid in its perimeters, within which an astonishing freedom was possible.”

I am still in awe of this analogy she has built – of the fact that it has given me a whole new perspective on…Freedom? Life? Haiku? Word play? Me?
I happen to develop a liking to the place I’ve just started work at. Many say it is limiting – without challenges, without creativity – but I look around and in hidden crevices (and in a lot of channel goodies), find a sea of opportunities. I think for me it is also a lot about respect. I need to have a stand in the place I work at. This, now, here – I like it. Surrounded by intimidating feminists, hearing talks about women’s issues, being amongst multitudes of boobs – I feel like one of them – somewhere in some corner of me, I feel like I belong.
Who can kill your creativity? Work? Job? This so called 9-6 routine? Some of the most interesting people I know work at banks, mnc’s, ngos – so does that mean they cannot be funny? They cannot read poetry? They cannot delve into literature? They cannot paint a picture or tell a story?
It’s a great thing if you love your work. I strive for that. Right now I am at the “liking” stage and not the “loving and dying for it” level. But I am striving to earn to be where I want to be – to be able to study without bothering about where my next meal is coming from – that’s something that keeps me going.
And then again – the books I carry on train, the doodles I make in my diary and the way I spend my weekends is life enough for me. I am relatively satisfied. I am not bursting and overflowing with love for work. But I just about love life right now. And that, for me, is a great start. I am hopeful. I am optimistic. I am happy. I am like haiku.

Block Talk

“Your internet connection is experiencing problems or your network administrator has blocked Gmail chat.”

What it this I say? I am at home. With slight fever and a horrible headache. Took an off from work. And popped in a crocin. Slept for a while longer. And woke up pretty much okay. But by then it was an off from work so why bother? I might as well stay home. So I log onto gmail and want to chat with some friends. And I get this silly message out of the blue and in the middle of a conversation where I was cribbing and simultaneously gloating about being ill and hence being at home. I call up R to ask “who the hell is this network administrator and what does he think of himself?”, he gives me a nonchalant answer “log off and log on again”… as if I hadn’t done that like a million times before I called him for help – am I a total net retard?...uh NO! Then he tells me, it is guy who came to fix up the net connection at home – aha… I thought as much, but suddenly why would my gtalk be banned? Have I been doing some uncensored wordy exchanges through it… I don’t think so! This is infuriating!

Oh and this rambling reminds me – who the hell is this M anyway? My blog isn’t out for public scrutiny. It’s my space where I can and will say anything – nonsense or not – and then yesterday I had this comment on this earlier post – and I was like…eh who is this? Only my friends have this link and I mostly know their nicknames. So this uninvited intrusion irked me a bit. But I published the comment anyway – maybe he/she returns – this M – to leave some smart ass comment yet again…so if one can bother to comment, I am okay with publishing it. Phhhhbbbt !!!!!!

I went yesterday to see a flat where I may want to move in. It is in a beautiful society – in the heart of Bandra on Carter Road – the sea front is walking distance away, and so is Crepe station and Tangy Tomato. And decently priced even. Just that the deposit is going to burn a hole into my parent’s pockets. But there is nothing called perfection – in that wonderful almost furnished house, lives a girl who has a huge Boxer! I am petrified of stray dogs, I avoid all kinds of poodles and apsos and this is a huge terrifying looking brown and black boxer, for god’s sake! What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

Hot friend J sent me a mail. Asking why I haven’t met him in so long and why are things so weird. I hate such topics – where there is so much talking and so many explanations. What do I tell him – ah yes, I don’t want to meet you right now and hang out with you because I, indeed, do not want to go out with you, so I am keeping you, my dear hot friend, at bay. What is annoying is that he stays at Bandra – so close to office and so convenient for hanging out – but I shall not and will not cross the line of control! *smug smile*

I had salaami & black olive sandwich for breakfast, with sprouts followed by cold coffee. I feel full, pampered and ready to sleep again.
So how do I solve this gtalk problem? How do I get in touch with the world that is out there again?
I am hoping switching off the computer/modem and restarting everything in an hour should miraculously do the trick. So I am going to try that before I have to call Mister Network fuckin’ Administrator. I am going back to sleep sweet sleep. Any comments on that, M? Indulge yourself.

*Disabling blogger.com also now?*
Let’s kill the network administrator.
Yawn!