Political correctness..whatever..

Why do we find the need to be ever politically correct??

Calling someone handicapped is a huge no no…deaf/dumb/blind…even worse. When these words were coined I don’t think there was any derogatory connotations to them. They just mean someone who cannot hear/talk/see as is applicable. Why cannot we say it as it is? Why do we have to say differently abled / specially abled etc. We associate a touch of inferiority with these words and bingo…they become politically incorrect terms.

You go for a wedding…and you have to start making politically correct noises again…”Oooh, what a sweet couple you guys make!”, “Wow, you look so good together”..STOP please! I know for a fact that a lot of couples do not look so great together. Me and KT for instance…we make a fairly odd couple looks wise..I look like a beanpole and KT is fairly round and “healthy” (there I cannot say fat..of course not..heavy..ok, fat no!). We have a rocking relationship, are mentally very compatible, heck even the food was good..no comments on all of that.

Yes you cannot say housewife, try using homemaker instead. Don’t the mean the same thing? And who are you to say housewife sounds condescending while homemaker does not?

With clients, political correctness just sky rockets. I hate those sugary sweet mails, purring conversations I need to have with these clients. Why must I say, “It would be great if you could provide me with the projections in excel rather than pdf, as it would assist the analysis that I need to carry out. ” What kind of idiot would give me an excel file converted into pdf when I need to analyse a financial model. How on earth am I supposed to value the company if I get some meaninglessly numbers, especially when I have told him several times that I need an excel model. And yet I have to purr and coo..simply he needs to pay me the fees.

Sometimes I wonder, is “politically correct” the politically correct word for hypocrisy??

Free rice

Found this on Chronicworrier’s blog.

It is a scheme that operated in association with the World Food Programme, essentially a vocabulary game of sorts, whereby for every word you get right, 10 grains of rice are donated to the United Nations. This is funded by ad revenues the website gets. Sceptics can rest assured, I found a corroborating entry on the WFP site. So click away…warning gets a little addictive!!

Edited to update

Woohoo they have now upgraded it to 20 grains of rice for each right answer! Does that mean I can can now waste less of my work time or does that mean I get to contributing more for the same quantum of time ? 😉

Two months and a half century

I need to laugh and when the sun is out
I’ve got something I can laugh about
I feel good in a special way
I’m in love and it’s a sunny day


Tadaa…this is post number 50 and today marks the completion of 2 months since I started out writing this blog. Ok I cheated a bit and didnt blog yesterday even though I was itching to write, so that I would have a double milestone 😉 …but yeah nevertheless!!

For some reason now..I cannot write 😦 . I have a million thoughts swimming in my head..but I’m way too restless to write. I’d written earlier about how small incidents like the hailstones in Madras or the falling mynah gave me that little push towards taking up blogging. So I remembered one more such catalyst…I stumbled on this video…and I remember thinking that day that if I had a blog I would surely put it up…then I promptly forgot about it and today for some reason the tune started playing in my head and I realised that its perfect that I put it up today..a double milestone celebration of sorts 🙂


 

Book guide

Is this cool or is this cool??

Its a “tourist map of literature”..you type in an author and you get a list of authors that write in a similar fashion..

False alarm

I started this blog nearly two months back…and I put up the cluster map on KT’s insistence a month back..I told him that it was silly to do it as he was the only reader of my blog and I would get the odd search engine hit.

I had registered in the website, but hadnt put it up on my blog as I had to attend to something urgent. When I finally got around to doing it, I saw two big dots, one in Madras and the other in Bombay. I thought, wow, I have someone reading my blog from Bombay as well. Days rolled on and the dot became even bigger…my happiness turned to doubtfulness and then this reader assumed stalker like proportions in my hyper imaginative head! I was also a little scared that this was a known person, what with me talking about my ex-manager (Yes, Yes EX!!!) and other extremely private stuff.

I wished that this person would comment and let me know who it was. Then it all came crashing down…

I visited a website and there was a message, “Thank you for visiting this site, have a good day in Mumbai”. I was initially puzzled then it all fell in place. At work, I still am using the server located in Bombay (coz of slightly less strict firewalls that enable me to access cricket scores in the office!)….and hence MY location is Bombay!!! So what my map was counting was my own visits to my blog (I sometimes forget to log on and come into the site to realise I can’t edit!!).

So its now official..I have no stalker and I am my own frequent visitor!!

D Company

What’s it about depression that makes my eyes well up for no apparent reason

What’s it about depression that I cannot even read

What’s it about depression that makes me want to write about it rather than the fact that Sampras beat Federer

What’s it about depression that makes it rear its ugly head every now and then

What’s it about depression that makes me discover nasty things like the fact that my Landmark vouchers have expired..by two days

What’s it about depression that makes me sadder than happiness makes me happy

Five minutes

Every single day I am late…the earliest I get to office is 10…those are very very rare occasions. Its 10 30 normally sometimes 11. Difficult for someone who loves to begin the day early. Do you know what the reason is? I bet you do.

 Today, a Saturday. I got slightly delayed…say 5 minutes. You did not even let on that you had to leave by a certain time…why was I  delayed? I was pressing your feet…

Five minutes..you couldnt wait…

I had tears in my eyes, I was raving mad, I nearly lost myself. I feigned a cold and a sneezing bout to ensure that your mother didnt realise that I was crying. If at all its possible for me to get a feeling of hatred..it happened today..like the other day..long ago when you didnt answer my phone calls..its more disbelief than anger that your capable of this…loads of sadness and hurt. I felt truly alone for the first time in a really long time. I do not belong anywhere now

“I’ve never delayed you to a client meeting” you say. Duh…when was the last time I even went to a client meeting?

I cried on the road…couldnt bring myself to face an autowallah…I walked on and reached the bus stop. Suddenly it struck me..why not take the bus..rather than argue and talk to an autowallah. I waited and took the bus. It was strangely liberating. I spent Rs 3 rather than Rs 40. I felt like me.

Tomorrow I will not wait for you. I will be me. Will be in the office by 9 30.