Vaudeville women
The only thing I don’t tolerate apart from stupids not accepting their stupidity is stupids being unprofessional.
Over the last ten days much of my resources have been devoted to troubleshooting problems brought about by, well, though hate to point out but simply cant ignore - ahem - women.
Before some silly feminist unhooks her bra crying she-wolf, I would like to put up my hands and say that some women I have come across in my professional life have been brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. But only some mind you. Most are not ; they get by doing religiously what has been delegated to them. It is when they try to play something that they are not that the ecosystem gets disturbed.
Over the last ten days much of my resources have been devoted to troubleshooting problems brought about by, well, though hate to point out but simply cant ignore - ahem - women.
Before some silly feminist unhooks her bra crying she-wolf, I would like to put up my hands and say that some women I have come across in my professional life have been brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. But only some mind you. Most are not ; they get by doing religiously what has been delegated to them. It is when they try to play something that they are not that the ecosystem gets disturbed.
The point is that we all as species are defined by our strengths and limitations.The entire idea of coming to adulthood is to be prepared to accept and work with it. Like - it would be absolutely hilarious to imagine me beating the 9 ½ seconds mark for hundred metres.
Ditto the charecters unique to men and women.. Some things are forte of women whilst some others are the domain of men. Accept and move on. But some don’t. And having used all the resources, and all the structure of the set-up a round them , all they can produce is this
Ditto the charecters unique to men and women.. Some things are forte of women whilst some others are the domain of men. Accept and move on. But some don’t. And having used all the resources, and all the structure of the set-up a round them , all they can produce is this
A load of shit. Before eventually being theatrical, womanly and begging others to clean it all up.
As much as I hate to use my power, I was compelled to use it many a times over the last week - including once to coldly point out the absolute stupidity with which a particular plan was being pursued in a meeting at 2 am in the morning. As it happens often under such circumstances the lady colleague had no corner to cover herself with. Only people who can look at themselves objectively can work in horizontal professional relationships, most others would be asking to be a part of hierarchical work set up where they would want others to tell them off. Go become a software engineer or something where you chase a deadline from your cosy-cubicle, why take up jobs where you should be thinking on your toes?
In the context check this link that S sent me following discussions on Indian women bloggers.
To make up for all the negativity, here's an interesting poem called Mal in a brilliant format by Kevin Oberlin.
Situation | Automatic Thought | Physical Response | Emotional Response | Cognitive Distortion | Changed Thought |
back on Shadow, but that was before the war | no longer my world | press my forehead to the margins, fly low | silence where survival’s concerned | and faith in ownership | lots of rocks look like home |
a sack of money for a crate of goods, an exchange of containers | where we keep our bodies and what it felt like to inhabit them | I would most certainly like you to touch me | maybe with nostalgia | the package travels because we carry it | exchange is not change, but constant motion |
what you break down, what you build | a family | your own quarters, your own bunk, your own cut | except when I conjure otherwise | a thing with roots can’t be moved, that’s the point | and I am in constant motion |
fog and fuck sound mighty similar to my ear | maybe you should see what it feels like | I’ve kept some of your things in a trunk | not knowing you’re in love, a stronger thing by far | but why admit it? | skin, only a middle layer |
shot in the shoulder again | take a bullet, you take someone’s burden off | also, it hurts | if I recover, expect me to get a few things off my chest | the tight pants improve my range of motion, asshole | don’t make me turn this ship around |
bar fight | careful what you say next | a brown shirt, a brown coat | patience isn’t a virtue, she’s a bitch | fighting keeps the dust down | with my shoulder blades I know if I’ve got help behind me |
in the black, what don’t matter comes clear | we’ll stop for supplies and make what repairs we can afford | to keep flying | like a crate buoyed by its cargo | life makes its own self interesting, bullet by burning bullet | you take the battle with you |
PS - I see The Class was a last minute surpirse at festival de cannes , have been told Paris has been rejoicing in streets - félicitations, buggerers.
No comments:
Post a Comment