Quietness, passé, stagnation and rot.

It can get pretty boring at work.


People see me rotting, I think. The see the stink lines rising and the air waver in acridness. No one took the liberty to roll me over yet, to check if I was dead, or still breathing but close to dead, and then call the cops to bundle me away in black body-bags (they probably need 2).

Nope. I sit at my table and ooze, green slimes and maggots and whatnot.

There are a few good things in the coming weeks that I’m looking forward to. One of them is the 16th of April, which means this damned Industrial Training comes to an end. Another is the decision of sending me to PWTC for the remainder of my days to help out with The Book Fair thing. Finally, days where I spend my time out in an environment both inviting and fresh, and while probably occupied with showing scholarly professors to their rightly books, is still something that beats the office monotony and utter tedium.


At least the Training is going out with a bang. At least I get fresh air.


(I think I complain a lot. I think my fellow course mates undergoing the same Training at different places are having it twice -- if not trice -- harder that what I’m forced to go through, but I think what I really wanted is having it hard.)


***********************


The evening skies these days all spell an imminence of storm.


The trouble is, said impending storm either never happen or it happens very much later than what you can predict. Come three to four P.M and dark clouds are a- gathering, with winds a-toiling and thunders rumbling and people immediately seeking for shelter or to shelter their stuff, only to find that the rain didn’t come, or came hours later.


Even the weather-reports seemed to shoot off target by miles; yesterday they told me to expect cloud and thunderstorms in the afternoon, but all I see was clouds at first, with the thunderstorms coming 5 hours later, and by then -- as people would put it -- it's already evening.