Sunday, October 15, 2006
NINE
He didn’t want to go to the conference. The heavy laptop helping the weighed down-ness, he dragged his feet through the airport. All around him were biz travelers: heading home: their ‘lappies’ in tow, in their not-so-crisp-anymore biz apparel and their uncomfortable-but-black-as-night biz shoes, standing in one queue after another, waiting to get aboard and eat their pre-cooked-we-are-here-to-keep-you-shut food.
He didn’t want to be part of any of that. He wanted to be home, in front of the TV, flipping mindless channels, chomping on calorie-bursting burgers, soaked-in-fatty-oil fries, washing them down with a pesticide-laden fizzy drink and top the abuse with some nicotine sticks.
Instead cramped into 27F he worried about the presentation he was supposed to make to the firangs at the conference: and wished he had made the slides more succinct and easy on the eye… but too late now: both time and his interest were in huge short supply.
They say it is all in the mind: did that mean that if he fooled his mind enough, he would start liking the idea of the conference? Calvin did that all the time. What Bill Waterson can preach, I can practise, he thought: What if it wasn’t a boring advertising tool / process learning exercise? What if he were the keynote speaker at the president of the universe convention? What if he was the convener of the hippie-rebirth meet? What if this was the convocation where the women of the universe finally crowned him their leader?
Come to think about, this could work. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Yes! Delusion when carefully handled could abet sanity!!!
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