The southern stream

The winds have started , the birds have flown,

A very long way, away from home,

Each mile they cover, towards the south,

There is a burst of happiness, without a doubt.

Closer to their destination, they get with each mile, 

Leaving the cold bad world behind,

Of course, it is only until the end of winter, they know,

In absolutely no time, they will be back home.

Or so they hope, with that thought in mind,

As they look toward the deep blue skies,

The wind that brings that familiar feeling from the hearth,

Lost for a moment, but they settle right back on their path.

They follow that pattern, off they go,

To a place they dream of, for as long as they know, 

Enjoying the gust carrying them above the sea,

It's not much longer until they are where they need to be.

And there it is in sight, lo and behold,

The ecstasy of the first sight, that can't remain untold,

Of those storms they have weathered, of the hurricanes they have fought,

They are but distant memories, are they not?

The birds, they settle down, their wings at peace,

Of having reached right at the peak of spring,

So much to rejoice, so much to love,

It almost feels like a sign sent from above.

It won't be long before they hear that call,

That yearning ache to go back to where they belong,

But for now, they are here, to sojourn in the land of their dreams,

Oh those birds, flying towards the southern stream.

Why being a workaholic saved me

"The alarm rings out loud. The starting riff of  'Am I evil', enough to wake the buzzing daylights out of anyone in a deep slumber. It's barely been 5 hours since she entered the house. But that's hardly on her mind. She just woke up from a dream that she knew had her thinking she was sitting right next to an old friend of hers and laughing , followed by a dream involving her writing tags, pressing F5, adjusting margins,pressing  f5 and then that sense of satisfaction. Her mind immediately wants to start thinking about how to solve that bloody problem that just won't show up, but she needs a cup of tea. With a song playing in her head, she goes on. She walks all the way lost in the music that's playing . That's her time.

When she is at lunch, she remembers the debugging dream and as much as she complains to her friend that this job seems to be haunting her, a small part of her feels proud, and comfortable in the knowledge. Her afternoon just passes by filled with frustration, ideas, people, Yes-got-it-please-work-damn-it-screw-you moments and then she just takes the break. Only that cross-trainer would understand how she wants to get rid of all that negative feeling that she has been keeping at bay throughout the day.

She begins again after dinner. The ideal time. With no one around, her legs on the desk, and unintelligible music playing in her ears, she begins yet again, with the feeling of excitement to tackle something new, something she has no idea about, that thing that drives her to arrive at work each morning. At 2, she knows, that's it. Tired but knowing she did her day's worth. She slowly unlocks the door, goes to her room, picks the guitar, starts playing the chords and reminds herself, how she needs to practise so much more. That sound gives her peace. In 7 hours, a moment of epiphany shall occur. Until then, she has ascended into another realm, another feeling, another day."

I wrote this inspired by this post and encouraged by the author because what I feel is exactly opposite of what she wrote. :) 

Here's me. The workaholic. The person to whom suggestions of making arrangements to sleep in office itself aren't unusual. Someone whose life has revolved around her work and how much more she could do. I've been like this for as long as I can remember. It is a boon and a curse bound together. Believe me, it can get tiring. As proud as you might feel while saying  "I don't have a life" (Jeez, does anyone even feel proud to say that? :-| ), some days you just wish you did. Sometimes you just want to let go, you wish you weren't that feminist can-stand-on-her-feet woman, you just want to give in to the thought "Who cares?", you want to give up that excruciating want to excel at this, that strife against wanting to stay back at work. 

Boon, because it helps me reach the point where I can be the best at it, where I have to be the best at it, by compensating the lack of skill with effort. And I am not ashamed of it. I truly admire people who are better than me and competing with them is something of a mental exercise to me. Yet I strive, aim to be the best.

I have my good moments too. When my father proudly tells his colleague, how my work hours are exactly like his during his younger days. When I know I have done much more than what was expected of me. When someone tells me that. The feeling of independence, of living my hours the way I want to. That pretentious sense of importance, that choice of going crazy about something. That feeling of achievement with EVERY small thing I manage to implement, every problem I manage to solve. Those hours when I didn't feel horribly lonely or unattractive, that smug feeling I successfully manage to hide under the layer of humility when the second person admires the way I am wired. That feeling that there is so much more to learn, so many people to meet, so many peers to admire, so many levels to aspire for. It's plain intoxicating. ( Like the smell of that coffee my roommate made today *sigh* )

There are days I wonder, whether this is my escape route. Away from unpredictable emotions and people. Funnily, only two days ago, Satya Nadella, our new CEO called himself a learner, where he takes up more courses than he can complete, buys more books than he can manage to read. That made me like him a little bit, relate to him a little bit. (This is despite the fact that I miss SteveB as the CEO. :( ) 

And I realized, it is ok to be a little crazy. You don't "need" a work-life balance. You will learn to accommodate new things and people in your life as and when they arrive. You will go take a break and probably not work for the longest time when you just don't want to. And believe me, I have done that and that's probably one of the few things I love about myself. But until then, I think I am going to make the most of my workaholic self. Make this life about me for as long as I can do it. And the lyrics that pop right into my mind are these :D 

"Here I am, rock you like a hurricane"

(Though the complete lyrics don't quite seem relevant to what I am trying to say, go ahead and enjoy the song. :P)