Frustration speaks

Times are sometimes such that we feel why the hell are we working so hard. It seems the means is not justifying the end. A lot of reasons go into working late divulging which would not be such a good idea. But let me try to analyse the points I made. Man is a victim of circumstances rather for that matter anything is a victim of circumstances. Some of them just cannot cope up with the ongoings and some manage to victimise the situation itself. I dont know into which category I fall.

Its been a lot of time spent working now. Precisely 4 days short of 9 months. But satisfaction hasnt gone into me. I sometimes feel frustrated to see that my development is headed nowhere and sometimes feel that yes I am far better than some of the less fortunate guys I know. So confusion reigns and rules the roost. When the mistake is not mine and becuase of that things are not going good on my side makes life miserable. Yes sometimes I do take it as a challenge but sometimes the frustration gets better of me. I am writing this blog in one such situation.

I had an appraisal recently. I got very good grades. I was happy. But then came the bolt from the blue. My predecessor had got the same comments as what I have got now. What does that mean? Its either I am as good as her or this is a standard we follow for any fresher coming our way and you have been given the same treatment. So where does my performance stand? Where is the indication to show that I was good or bad for that matter? Whatever I feel needs to be complimented by my manager if I have to grow moneywise. Afterall whatever we are doing is for money . THE BIG M FACTOR. These things have led me to think so much, so deep that I am growingly becoming frustrated. I try to curb my feelings because I know if this coninues then you need no enemy to exempt you from growing. You become your biggest enemy. So what shall I say? I am confused.

May be if frustration speaks for me it might just turn out like this:

Time and time again have I watched,
Myself grow into every birthday.
The mirror says, “Thou are grown”.
But I ask, “To be what?”
Frustrated I smashed her,
Only to bleed from heart till soul.

I saw a thousand different faces,
All mine! All still!
Some into past, some into the future cast.
I saw the artist all gloomy waiting for death.
I saw the techie wanting to fly, but all wings clipped.
I saw HIM, I saw her, I saw myself all the while.

“To achieve what?” I questioned them,
“Did you all come into me?”
No freedom of choice did you leave,
With bound intentions did you live.

Cradle of filth I call myself,
So hard on all of them.
Trying to mask every time,
My eyes speak a different language.
My heart speaks none.

Maybe a more lighter blog will follow soon when I will resolve myself. Until then happy reading.