When your only job is hunting for one

I started my day when the digits on my digital clock struck ten in the morning. I'd had seven hours of sleep the earlier night; barely so though. I'd made a to-do list after great lengths of imploration my parents went through, to get me to make one. Excessive technology does cripple a man, as did the virtual, yet surreal technology of video streaming on the bastard son of the original social media. The bastard son, DueTyoob, had definitely and definitively crippled my control over my body's urgent need to sleep and take rest and had in its stead, infested my mind with all insensible crazy questions about how American people feel about Indian food, and how tennis court drama earns more claps than a great ae whizzing past the opponent. I'd been perplexed by what I'd seen, wanting to watch more and more, just as I am right now, gripped by the urge to write this article, even when it is eleven minutes past two in the first few hours after daybreak. The rest of my day h...

The beginning is an end to a prior beginning . The prior beginning, in my case, was the Master's degree that I was so passionately and fervently pursuing; taking up courses, both online and offline, conducting theoretical and experimental research, working my mind like an omnidirectional wrecking ball conquering and deconstructing all that came in its path. But that was all going to be over now. My mind had, till then, been a sizzling mess of ideas, both mature and novel, buzzing around like bees crazed from the smoke released by an angry beekeeper that the world was. That mind was finally arriving at a stage where it could show those bees a new home, with new rooms and having new activities and responsibilities. That was, only if it could find the path and the way for them to reach there. In this path-finding algorithm, the first step was to scour for jobs that could be in alignment with what I had collected over 2 years as my personal arsenal during my conquests as a wrecking bal...