A Date Of Opportunity

So the debate rages.... should there be a special day to express our love to others? Honestly, if you asked me, a special day for expressing such an emotion is not required. Just like we don't require special days like Diwali and Christmas to remember our Gods. Just as we pray daily, we do also express love in many forms almost every day. But what about the secret love of your life that never gets a chance to come out?  I agree that it does come out in some cases. Cases wherein you belong to the vocal and vociferous minority. After all, the vociferous minority can be vociferous about any and every topic they wish to choose. And so there is no reason that they would remain silent on as emotional a subject as love. No matter which day it is. And if they are brave enough to find a voice at that exact moment that is.

But what about the silent majority? How can they can express their true feelings to that special someone they've secretly loved for a long time and get it over with? Unlike the people with voices, the silent majority, while going through the daily rigors of life, tend to keep their feelings under wraps so as not to ruffle too many unnecessary feathers. They are afraid that the rapport and the relationship they built painstakingly over the years will crumble like a cookie the moment they try to take it to the next level. And so they remain silent waiting patiently for a small window of opportunity to present itself to help them come out. And in many cases, chances that such an opportunity will come their way is as good as winning a million-dollar lottery. In short, it can be an endless wait. So for such silent majority, if a simple date on a calendar presents that opportunity in guise of Valentine's Day, why not? After all, if it were any other normal day, the short month of February would only be half as interesting, isn't it?

A Half-filled Glass

Was watching the TV Series 'Arrow' a while back. At one point in time, the conversation between Oliver Queen and his bodyguard Diggle goes something like this:

Diggle: And I think I'm just beginning to understand the kind of man you are.
Oliver: Shouldn't take you very long. I'm shallow.

Though it was quite a simple conversation, in a way, it did say something about the character Oliver Queen a.k.a. the Arrow who's just returned to civilization after being a castaway on a deserted island for five years. In my opinion, it takes a certain level of maturity to speak of oneself in such an offhand manner. And it requires an equally sharp listener (in this case, Diggle) to understand that such a statement made in first person needn't always imply the speaker should be written off so easily. In a lighter vein, however, Oliver's reply might also apply to someone when they don't have much to talk about themselves. Like me, for instance. Especially when I have to interact with very smart individuals on a daily basis.

My line of work provides me with ample opportunities to work with some very motivated and talented people. And frankly, I am amazed at their energy, intensity and focus whenever they apply themselves to any task. I'm sure their approach to work and also life in general is much more purposeful and deliberate than mine. Whereas I prefer to take it easy and slow, I see these highly charged individuals jump at every opportunity and make the most out of it. And after a long and satisfying day at work, I see them sweating it out at the gym, at volleyball and basketball courts, playing cricket, heading out to the movies, partying or just chilling out. All in a day's work for them. And on weekends, they just let their hobbies take over or pursue their passions. Good for them.

I, on the other hand, head straight back to flip channels. Or read. Or it's game on on PS3. Or just take a catnap. Beyond that I hardly exercise my little grey cells or my triceps. Which essentially means that if someone asked me what do I do after work or what my interests were, I'd draw a blank. I prefer the contentedness of doing nothing after a long day to doing several things non-stop in 24 hours. I do admit I tried doing several things last year and did tick a few to-do's off my list. But that's seasonal and unpredictable like the monsoon, and not a daily routine. By the time the twilight takes over, while for the achievers the day's glass is half-empty, for me the day's glass is just about half-full already. And I am more than happy with a half-filled glass. For now.

But then as Oliver says, I'm shallow when it comes to such things :-)

Undiscussing Weekends on Monday Mornings

Like many of you out there, I am not a big fan of Monday mornings. And one of the things I dread on a Monday morning is the time when I come to work and my fellow workers start greeting me with the question, 'So, how did the weekend go?' So far till date, with the exception of 3-4 (make that 2-3) weekends a year, I never had had a weekend I could talk or write home about. So for some time, as an evasive tactic, I made it a habit to treat this as a rhetorical question and used to reply with my own rhetorical question, 'Good. How was yours?' Unfortunately, for most of them out there, it is not a rhetorical counter-question to a rhetorical question. Hence they get into this long description of how well their well-planned weekend went. And then there are others who moan and groan about how their well-planned weekend went awry and they had to spend that time in a very unplanned manner. Not that I have anything against such answers, but listening to them makes me think that my entire weekend, whether planned or unplanned, was an epic waste of time. 

So of late, I have started to utilize my Monday mornings for planning for the weekend ahead. I painstakingly collect all the 'how my weekend was/was not well-spent' information from my co-workers and pick the best plans (best-of-breed in software parlance) and use that the following Monday with certain subtle changes to the script, of course. Yup, not very original but it helps to have a well-scripted weekend. This way, whenever someone asks me the dreaded question, I go into this well-rehearsed prosy monologue that acts as an instant and total buzz-kill. And so when I courteously ask how theirs' went (after I'm done with my prosy buzz-kill of a monologue), they shrug it off with a mumbled 'Good.' and quietly slip away. Good. I have also begun to notice that slowly but surely more and more people have stopped asking me about my weekends and make do with a simple 'Hi' or wave from afar and walk off in a different direction as if they just remembered something important. And because of that, I have been able to appreciate my precious weekends better than before. Because for me, a weekend not discussed or compared on the following Monday morning is a weekend well-spent.

TGIF!