AAARGH!!

Okay, there's only so much pissed-offness you can handle before you punch someone. And I'm this close to reaching the punching-point. Its ten in the morning, and I could have been at Mondy's working on a supercool event. But no. The powers-that-be suggest that I stay put in a pointless job (not so much suggest as yell till my ears fall off) and so here I am, venting my fury in a blog no one reads (not the powers-that-be at least, thankfully).

This is what I'm supposed to be getting out of working at Green (name changed to save my neck, not too subtle but yeah): a Learning Experience. Well yes, I am learning a lot. I'm learning all about the Art Of Writing Single Lines For Capitalist Bastards Who Sell Cars At Exorbitant Prices. And not to forget, if you ever type a document and send it to Green, I might just be the one making sure you've not put in extra spaces and stuck all the apostrophes in the wrong place as some idiots are likely to do. Also I'll be wondering why the fuck you can't proof read your own stuff or at least write like you're literate. And if you think that developing the ability to notice an extra space at one glance leaves me with a sense of acheivement, well, then you're a sad loser and I'll forward all documents to you henceforth.

Point being this is no learning experience. I learnt that this is not the job for me, which is a good thing. I learnt that I might become a champion carrom player if I stick here for another month. I learnt that if I want to go home at all, I should shut up and act invisible till 9.30 p.m. and then ask hesitantly if maybe I could leave.

Not like I'm getting paid either, just fyi.

So. I don't get a Learnimg Experience, I don't enjoy what I'm doing (WHEN I'm doing something, i.e.), food here sucks, I'm missing all my Malhar meetings, I suffer mild nervous breakdowns due to the trauma of not knowing when to leave, I'm never coming back to this place or to this profession, I don't give a fuck about contacts I'll make in an industry I'll never return to, AND it's not like they'll feel the difference if I quit.

So why am I still here?

DON'T ASK ME THAT ASK THE POWERS-THAT-BE.

AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!  

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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