One of the most amazing things that I have discovered being late and struggling to travel is running. That activity where you use your feet and run like the road runner, especially, when late and then have a stitch in your chest and start breathing / gasping heavily waiting to catch your breath, you know? In this God forsaken place, I bet very few people have heard of something called ‘physical activity’, where you get off your chair and make a conscious effort to move your limbs, your hands, your feet, the works, basically. Save for a few women here who frequent the gym, the rest (men and women) are extremely content with becoming unattractive tub of lards with perpetually blood-shot eyes and this sombre look and an occasional tired smile. They are content with sitting on their butt all day staring at a computer screen and also doing the same throughout the night and the wee hours of the morning. It goes without saying that they also prefer arriving late at work and subsequently the vicious cycle continues where you expect the others also to stay late with you. Yes, misery certainly does love company. So well, you great morons who are interested in staring at a damn computer screen, I’d like to work out and also run, though I am far from thoroughly enjoying the activity.
A while back, I don’t recall exactly when but I considered myself as this eager go-getter, someone who wanted to be at the top of her game and had this great career graph to follow with these dreams of fame, money and ambition. Today, I couldn’t care lesser whether I attended the meeting on the matter I was involved in. Don’t get me wrong I do care, I am a teeny bit worried that I didn’t stay back now but otherwise, ask me whether I genuinely care about missing that meeting or the pleasure of staying back for another hour without work and hoping that have a meeting soon. I don’t. I honestly give a rat’s ass about the stupid matter at hand. Am I happy with the politics of the place? No, I am certainly concerned.
Point being, I am surprised at just how I don’t care. I am certain that I don’t want to climb up the ladder in this place or receive huge accolades or even want to pursue a career in this field. Somewhere, when I was asked by someone whether I realised what exactly I was headed for when I received my offer letter, I knew that this wasn’t what I wanted. This senior in college I think asked me this question and revealed how contradictory I was, desiring to do something and setting out to go the whole other way. Back then, I told myself I could manage it but steadily it is clear that this exercise is a waste of time, money and effort. I just wish I could go back to a time when I had the power to again rethink and decide exactly what I wanted to do. I guess I was just content with promises of money and this is the only reason that I might be here for God knows how long.
God what wouldn’t I give to just pursue what I really wanted without any compulsions.