Eternal Sunshine in the Abstract Mind

Friday, July 20, 2012

This may be the first and possibly the last time I'm utilizing office machinery to write a post. The laptop that's been granted to me does not have a right click option. I've learnt keyboard short cuts, the ones I ought to have learnt when I was in 4 grade but I can blame it all on the flawed Indian education system, conveniently like we all do.

There's major cacophony- production babes, friday cheer I'm presuming. I can't, obviously, be loud. Editorial intern has an image of a sex kitten dork. I'm only improvising on the dork. Sexkitten? Fail.

Another thing, I fail to gather from reading scripts, knowing people about foreigners writing in English is their sense of grammar. So, when they'll compose a piece, say a synopsis, a proposal, a status update; their spellings and grammar are flawed. Only, when they end up submitting a piece for publication or some such, their work gets better than an Englishman from Westminster. I've known people like that and have slushed three such in last two days. I've been stuck on this script (by a Puerto Rican dude) for the longest time now, three- pile count increases and I feel slushing is what I've done all my life.

If I may make a parallel with the men in my life and the scripts I've slushed- or rather in my mind; they way I am being unpaid to do the manuscripts. There goes year, then the name, place of interaction, personal details only to be followed by notes- "Can't spell, no.", "Doesn't know punctuation.", "I can't have a conversation with this man after foreplay.", "He can write, read and everything but he is a schnorrer." You get the drift?

More or less that's how I've categorized my memory spanning over last 7 years of subtle and not so subtle men looming over my mind. Imagine, how large this slush would be. It's funny how it works the same way. At times, same entries get slushed by two or maybe more interns; the guys repeating themselves in our lists- friends and friends turning to foes. I know of one such that I can very confidently say, all my friends have slushed (and status is pending till today- for all of us. Sigh). It's a brilliant idea to have filed them neatly into an order and keeping it neat and tidy. Currently on my slush list, there's a pending entry, almost tempted to change, "I can't care less, I just want to do him." to "CREEPZOID ALERT. RUN!". Fuck, this post sounds like an excerpt from a bad chick lit that I slushed in rejected column a week ago. This is what turning 2o and asexuality does to you. You end up settling for just about any creepzoid you encounter, once your hormones rage. On these slush lists, approvals come in rarely. In my two weeks of work, I've party put two scripts on pending and in real life, I've just rejected this one pending chap, who's on for quite a bit. As a result of which, the list is full of rejections right now and I'm looking forward to adding some more in the list for a bit.

Another feature of working at this place is the ride on my way. Office cab has the scene that keeps me occupied. I have silent fits of laughter listening to the some of the most absurd and naive stuff that seniors in the cab have to say. There's also clerical staff that travels and is usually quiet, much like me. Today, none of the senior editors/other honchos took the cab. It was me and the clerical staff. I had Therapy by David Lodge to keep me occupied but the conversation that was flowing was as sensible and enjoyable as it gets. Simply put, whatever these guys were discussing (the state of President election in India) made way more sense than discussing absurdities in a phony accent about Manmohan Singh on the Time magazine cover. I'm no one to judge. These guys (boss') have way more experience than me but at times their crap gets to you. It happens with me each day. They say I am not patient. I believe so.

Other than brief two week update about work, I finally got through some place. MA Philosophy from Delhi University it is. Be prepared to hear more painful philosophy rant for the next two years. And, then unemployment scenes. Philosophy cannot fetch me a job other than pursuing Academia. I might as well get married to a Japanese after this and have an extra martial with a Parsi or an equivalent of rare genes somewhere. Worth slushing in, no?

"His genes are crazy. Yes! Yes! Yes!"

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