Formal Shirt and Trousers

Seven days ago, if you'd asked me what kind of work I'd like to be doing when I'm older, I wouldn't be able to tell you. To be honest, seven days ago I wouldn't be able to tell you that the Motorcycle Diaries was about Che Guevara, or that the actor is the same guy who muddles up dreams and reality in the Science of Sleep. I'm pretty sure I had forgotten what a Jabberwocky was and I had read through the first few pages of The Thirty Nine Steps with tremendous gusto.

The only reassurance I can gather from the usual train of events is that seven days from now, I'll have brushed up on my vast store of generally useless trivia, I'll have discovered another talented actor in an underrated film who could've made it big but didn't and I'll have read another 20 pages of the book I'd resolved to finish in a day. By an arguable extrapolation, I might say that by the time I'm 60, I'll be wiser, shall have cataract and will probably be the most irritable old man you'll know.

Sometimes I wonder if it really would be cooler to be living in the Matrix, coz right now life seems about as pointless as a Charaugh Din ad. Also, I start work from tomorrow and by the sound of her voice, my new boss seems like a hard-ass, middle-aged and frustrated woman for whom I'm gonna have to work for 8 hours a day! Yippie right? I can't delude myself into thinking that everything's fine or nurture the conviction that my career choice is within a 5 mile radius of what I'd wanted to do, but if taglines like 'CD Rockz!'are supposed to compensate for poor advertisement and actually do, then dammit' I want my silver lining and I shall have it!

(Seven years later, you'll find me writing taglines for products in a shady ad-firm, ruing the day I ever wrote this post, but for a guy who looks to the life of Chandler Bing for hope, I guess I'll have outdone myself.)