Just another brain-dead techie with views on everything under the sun!

Friday, October 18, 2002

FUBAR and the cold within...

Have had hardly anytime today to think anything other than the work at hand. Occasionally when I took small breaks, I did manage to visit and comment on some of the fine blogs that I visit daily. But apart from that... absolutely no respite from the work. For the major part of the day, I was FUBAR to the max! Facing a deadline, I had not managed to achieve any breakthrough in correcting a freakish bug in the software. Finally... at 1700 hrs... a braincild was born!! A bulb in my head lit up brightly! ... (so bright that you could almost see the rays coming out of my ears and nostrils!)... And by 17:20, I had managed to squash the bug and got the code to work as it was supposed to!... Whew!!... just 10 minutes before the deadline... this was the closest that I ever got to a deadline without overrunning it!... *looks upto the sky and thanks the guardian angel*... Thanks buddy! :-)

And, I have to run home now... today's my dad's birthday!!!... Happy Birthday Papa!!... you are the greatest!!

Before going... I'll post a poem that I got in e-mail today... its supposed to be by an anonymous poet...

The Cold Within
by: Author Unknown, Source Unknown

Six humans trapped by happenstance
In black and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
Or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,
The first woman held hers back
For on the faces around the fire,
She noticed one was black.

The next man looking cross the way
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third man sat in tattered clothes;
He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store.
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

And the last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain.
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's still hands
Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without,
They died from the cold within.

Think abt it!!

Have a fab weekend ppl!!... and Cheers!

P.S.: Hey ppl... go and congratulate Amrita!!... she won a web-site designing contest today!! :-))


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Sameer/Male/27. Hails from India/Maharashtra/Mumbai/Prabhadevi, speaks Marathi, English and Hindi. Spends 60% of daytime online. Uses a Faster (1M+) connection. And likes Reading/Computers.