Beetle-juiced

Once upon a time there was this WRETCHED @*#&@ beetle that freeloaded in a NYC apartment. The beetle used to terrorize a young consultant at night by buzzing around his head in the dark. For a few days, the consultant succumbed to the menace of the beetle until the inevitable breaking point. At which point the civilized and highly evolved consultant snapped into a violent rage tearing apart his apartment to find the beetle. In the process one broom (from IKEA) was broken in half, one couch (also from IKEA) was overturned and the cushions thrown across the room and yet no beetle was found. The consultant began to develop a twitch as he found the beetle on his last eggo waffle He drew up plans for the next wave of attack against the beetle. One such brilliant plan would have even made Wile E. Coyote proud. It involved a specially prepared mixture of RAID and Javex bleach in a spray can - perhaps all that was missing was the ACME logo. However, the mixture backfired and sent the consultant into a coughing fit allowing the beetle to escape and hide somewhere less conspicuous. After coming to terms with not being able to capture the beetle, the consultant decided to fight fire with fire. Using the ultra-noisy, ultra sketchy, ultra-annoying 12 Amp vacuum cleaner around the entire radiator (the last known whereabouts of the beetle) the consultant proceeded to psychologically traumatize the beetle. Until finally in one last buzzing blitz the beetle flew out of the apartment door and left.

The night is now quiet. The desk is full of brilliant beetle crushing plans never to be executed. A beetle somewhere cowers in the corner haunted by the sound of the "dirt devil" mwahahahaha*.

* This is a purely objective post.

Grrr... of the Day

I have a sneaking suspicion that there is another beetle in my room.

Checkpoint

Every so often on the highway of life I manage to salvage a moment to evaluate where I am, when I am and who I am. The activity is usually triggered by a self-pitiful lapse, a crushing blow to my ego or simply a prolonged state of boredom.

Where am I:

Currently I am at the Hilton in NJ. Which you could probably say is the deoderized part of the armpit of the US. I live in one of the biggest cities in the world at the foot of the skyscraper of opportunity. I work for one of the world's largest and most successfully criticized companies. I am in love with a girl who genuinely cares for me, believes in me and loves me. I get to travel to some great cities to work with the largest clients to see the world through the eyes of those that have made it. In all respects, I should bow and thank God and Lady Luck for throwing me a bone.

When am I:

I live in a world of 8am to 8pm where the time zones change, the hours of each day morph into a string of perceivable time. Where milestones are unnecessary because they no longer mark points in time but rather perceptions of wisdom. I measure time no longer by sunsets but rather by how clearly my mind's eye can look through the haze of life and realize this too no longer matters. I am in a time of corporate change, of globalization, of accountability and of political tension. In that respect I am on the top of the hill of paradigm shifts with a sled of ambition. The snow is lightly packed and the air is crisp and again I should be thankful.

Who am I:
I have succesfully branded myself. From the best high school in Canada, to the best university program in Canada to the best ivy league engineering school, to the most recognizable company in the world. But beneath those brands, I have glued the pieces of heartbreak and reforged the sword of confidence. I am simply a nice guy trying to change the world in a profound way that I have yet to pinpoint.

So the question I am pondering is now what. Does this happy state collapse, do I miss my chance to leverage this turning point or is there a plan that will reveal itself soon?

Stay tuned.

Grr...of the Day

I read that "An optimist is just a pessimist in the making." So long as you are optimistic things will go wrong for you. When you actually finally become a pessimist, things will lighten up but you may be too jaded to realize. I'm not sure which is worse.

Now

The City is a place of millions of people and perhaps billions of interactions each day. In theory, the result should be an intricate and rich network of social bonds, and yet reality contrasts that greatly. People meet for such brief moments that they package their interactions into tiny parcels and sail them off to sea. A pleasentry here, a shared joke there which in a small city could start a life-long friendship, but in the City, it is a fleeting moment. Do not grieve for that moment or regret that chance to meet a person. Do not seek to find purpose in that tiny fleck of time because those flecks rain down like confetti too often. Only the unwashed pick up the confetti like trash in the alleys.

I've heard among the many classifications there are 2 types of people, those who live in the moment and those who live a lifetime. Well, I teeter on the fence. I will not deny myself an extra 5 minutes of rest or a moment to stop and watch the waves and yet when I am asleep I will dream of a lifetime of achievements and when I look out at the water I will see the regular beats of the wave. I cannot decide whether I am the man who indulges in the moment or the man who builds discipline to acheive a goal. Cruel is life that it does not let you be both.

Now, here in NYC, I see so many moments pass by so empty. I try to fill them but the conveyer belt moves to quickly and my thoughts spill over the edge. I am scattered. Scattered alongside the confetti of moments of time.

As my life becomes more regular and mundane, I feel my discipline waning to somehow compensate.

Grr of the Day...

There is this time reporting software that I needed access to at work. The process to get access is convoluted and unnecessarily complex. After going through it several times and still being denied access, I escalated several requests to various admins. Finally, after about a month, I sent an angry email to the clearly incompetent admin that was still processing my request saying that this my third request and I have CCed my manager so he can also complain. My manager emails everyone back saying he's sorry he didn't submit the request. And I suddenly realized I was the big jerk who was complaining to the admins and he looked bad. In turn, I looked dumb too. Grr!

The Amazing Insanity of it All

Back from oblivion, you friendly storyteller has decided to share another post. So most of this blog has been devoted to unfortuneate circumstances that befall me out of some spite by Lady Luck. But every so often, mother nature decides to tip the scales and give you a dose of the most amazing luck. Today Lady Luck decided to waste my entire Good Luck savings in one go. While I was returning a rental car to the airport, I asked them to call me a local cab. I emphasized local because NYC dispatchers have a habit of sending crosstown town cars instead of cabs and charging you extra. To my complete surprise, a stretch limo shows up calling for Shivji. I suppose the driver must have read the look of wtf from my face and said, yeah umm sorry we don't have anymore cabs so this is the same price - where are you going? In the getting into car process I was half imagining that perhaps living in Greek and Italian Astoria had finally came up on me and the Mafia boss was coming to collect, perhaps his goons were waiting inside. But no one was there. I guess its one of those things where when the time comes, I'll get a severed horse's head to remind me that I still owe him for the limo and he's come to collect.

Grr... of the Day

There are several great radio stations that you can listen to on the ride into Ithaca. In fact, it makes you wonder how the boonie-dwellers have such impecable taste. Last year I seemed to think, its probably some really cool college students running some great stations at Cornell and Ithaca College. Except, when I moved in, I realized that those radio stations all disappear about a mile from Cornell and you are left with a choice of crappy western crap or somewhat tolerable soft-rock. This year driving back to NYC, I found myself singing along to some songs that if I sang in Flemo or Thorncliff in Toronto or perhaps anywhere in Brooklyn, I'd probably be shot just for knowing the words. Hrmph.