On-campus, I work at the dept. of Communication Studies, where on most days, there isn't too much to do besides answering phones and delivering letters elsewhere at UAB. However, this soporific state of affairs has, in recent weeks, ground to a halt. Figuratively speaking. The dept. is shifting offices to a new building, which has the faculty alternately whooping with joy and weeping in despair. Their ambivalence is due to the fact that the new offices are incomparably better than the current ones but none of them want to face the trouble of packing and moving their paraphernalia. So.
Enter the office boy. Who, if any of you have read previous posts, is me.
I'd like to meet the individual who thought that it'd be a great honour for me to do the packing for the entire faculty, barring a few kind souls who'd rather assert their independence and do it themselves (bless them). And, as is usual in situations I'm involved in, they discovered that I'm some sort of idiot-savant at packing stuff. I wish whoever is distributing talent at the assembly line would be a little more discriminating. I can just see my curriculum vitae now -
Education: 2 Masters degrees
Work experience - Locum
Job Skills - Remarkable box-packer, object no object.
Sigh....
Anyway, all this packing and moving has got me thinking about my own pack and move, for I head home soon for a month's holiday. Home being Pune. The thought of which has me daydreaming, nodding & grinning hideously at completely inappropriate moments. But, truth be told, there's quite a bit of ambivalence here too. How much has it changed ? Will the familiar, comforting landmarks still be around ? How many faces will I recognise ?
When we leave, the city streets and neighbourhoods that we grew up, lived, laughed & cried in leave with us. We desperately take that last mental snapshot, wanting to somehow hold on to the experiences and memories that shaped us. And just like any photograph, it begins to fade, while the real city impassively goes on. Leaving us holding on to the past. To an ideal.
Going back for the first time.... to reintroductions.
Song for the moment: Tryin' to get to heaven before they close the door - Bob Dylan
Enter the office boy. Who, if any of you have read previous posts, is me.
I'd like to meet the individual who thought that it'd be a great honour for me to do the packing for the entire faculty, barring a few kind souls who'd rather assert their independence and do it themselves (bless them). And, as is usual in situations I'm involved in, they discovered that I'm some sort of idiot-savant at packing stuff. I wish whoever is distributing talent at the assembly line would be a little more discriminating. I can just see my curriculum vitae now -
Education: 2 Masters degrees
Work experience - Locum
Job Skills - Remarkable box-packer, object no object.
Sigh....
Anyway, all this packing and moving has got me thinking about my own pack and move, for I head home soon for a month's holiday. Home being Pune. The thought of which has me daydreaming, nodding & grinning hideously at completely inappropriate moments. But, truth be told, there's quite a bit of ambivalence here too. How much has it changed ? Will the familiar, comforting landmarks still be around ? How many faces will I recognise ?
When we leave, the city streets and neighbourhoods that we grew up, lived, laughed & cried in leave with us. We desperately take that last mental snapshot, wanting to somehow hold on to the experiences and memories that shaped us. And just like any photograph, it begins to fade, while the real city impassively goes on. Leaving us holding on to the past. To an ideal.
Going back for the first time.... to reintroductions.
Song for the moment: Tryin' to get to heaven before they close the door - Bob Dylan
Comments
But the beer tastes as good as it ever did - and there'll be a couple of mugs waiting for us.
:) - cheers, mate.