Light at the End of the Tunnel

Okay, so it's midnight in my land, and I decide to blog. Here's the chain of events that led to this one.

A few days ago I was going through this website, one on my rather selective list of favorites, and I come across this gem. Which got me thinking, wow, really? Do they actually mean that after two more (hopefully not more than that. please!) years of this life, I'll be overqualified for everything else but academics? Not that it's a problem or anything; I mean, unlike most others, I'm actually in the PhD program so that I can eventually teach. Well, in any case, out of curiosity, I decided to go online and check what other careers are in store for me, and specific profiles.

Shock Number 1: I am overqualified for 99% of the stuff they have out there!

Shock Number 2: I cannot find the kind of work I'm qualifying myself for!!

Idea: Since GE Medical Systems is my "dream" firm, how about doing a GE-intensive search?

Result: On page 1, filled with around fifty positions advertized, exactly ONE is my Dream Job. Wowowie!! Finally...! Phew... at least there's something.

***So then it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel...***

On closer inspection: The position is advertized for GE Europe, in Germany.

***...is just the freight train coming your way.***

=========

P.S. Do you think it was really just coincidence that I was listening to Metallica's No Leaf Clover at exactly that instant?

My thought for today...

Ever wonder why we have so many poems on "pure love" and none on pure hatred?! This, in spite of the fact that, if you really think about it, not one of us has ever experienced "pure" love... it's almost always mixed with a ton of other emotions, and not all of them positive. Hatred, on the other hand, is almost always "pure", unmixed, undiluted, uncompromising.

I know love commonly makes one eloquent and hatred/anger, etc, renders one speechless, but still, every one of us has an equal capacity for both, and if one rouses us to write sonnets, there ought to be some corresponding effect of the lesser-talked-of-but-more-powerful emotion, right?

I'm still looking for that elusive rhyme. Till then, here comes an alternate:

I was not sorrowful, I could not weep,
And all my memories were put to sleep.
:
I was not sorrowful, but only tired
Of everything that ever I desired.

- Ernest Dowson (1867-1900)

Chicago

Have you ever felt the kind of stress that is so deeply emotional, that it's consequences are physical? I've trained myself not to mind it all these years, but I'm guessing I'm one of those people Chicago hypnotizes in that way. There's a constant tightening of the heart, strong steel bands constricting so hard, you're not sure if the next moment will be your last. In fact you rather hope than fear it. Damn, I actually thought I'd gotten over that in the last one year.

I hope this stupid passing mood has something to do with GnR's Don't Cry playing in the background.

By the way, if I really have to mention it, I'm back here in the Devil's Own City, Chicago. Leaving beautiful warm Mumbai behind. I'm beginning at last to understand why I need to accomplish my goal here as soon as possible: in order to fly from here... forever.