The focused stare

Not worthy of being called an insight by even the most charitable, I shall just say that, it has been ‘observed’ that if a desk-bound individual’s mien carries an inordinate amount of focus, some would say, at levels far higher than the national average for a specific venn-diagram like cusp of role, experience, situation, and nearness to the distribution of increment letters, then it should be understood, that, such a person, in reality carries a workload that scrapes the lower extremities of data points collected at a survey among those employed, and not just gainfully so, to the point that they collectively bring down the national mean, even while being few in number. At this point, it is of peripheral interest, even to the most particular of readers, ( i.e. those who refuse to let even an authoritative stamp deter them from cross verifying through at least 19 independent sources, when they perforce have to let go of the act of cascading and concatenating query after query into the box of their preferred search engine, and, grudgingly nod their curmudgeonly acceptance of the fact that the aforementioned fact is as a matter of fact indisputable beyond further questioning, investigation, or interrogation), what the purported definition of an insight is. However, with the enthusiasm of someone presently afflicted by the oft seen and always empathised with state of carrying a focused stare, I shall quote an unnamed former boss’ boss’ boss, with regard to the definition of an insight…he said something like, to which I paraphrase thus, ‘an insight is a retrospectively self evident code of behaviour that unifies a given audience in their reaction to certain stimuli’. Some others who wore the badge of seniority, rank, experience, and heightened levels of intellectual incisiveness, distilled the above elucidation into a pithy ‘live life to the fullest’ kind of phrase that seemed to unabashedly paint everyone from the young to the aged, first-jobbers to the retired, those who have loved and lost to those who are lost in love…am sure you see the point somewhere…not that I really care, for all I am trying to do is to add to my blog, while carrying on the intense pretense of working on a well researched proposal or some such, basically a blatant misuse of the fringe benefit of being in a role that no one really understands, at least not enough to be able to question a screen full of intelligent sounding, cogently placed, seemingly structured prose, that on first appearance follows the generally accepted practice of tri-furcating everything in life into, the beginning, the middle, and the end. It is the small gestures, eddies, and side acts that coat the the minds of those who watch with the patina of surety, after all, who would believe that a fellow colleague who is obviously punctuating his or her feverish progress being made on the keyboard with note-taking, reference-checking, sudden bouts of talking to oneself and finding the perfect storm of agreement, (only the married will understand the happiness in such an occurrence), drinking out of an empty container, (bottle, cup, glass, whatever is handy), and then realising that it had been emptied just at the onset of a certain passage of time marked by the conspicuous consumption of the last sip of the selfsame beverage that was an erstwhile resident of the container alluded to to afore. Not just speech, even thoughts proceed from the appropriate node of the cranial mass at a speed that would rival the slowest and most lethargic creature to be designed and released on planet Earth by the benevolent and most creative Creator above, as if the neurons tasked with transmitting thoughts to the extremities, (thereby goading them into specifically sequenced and often coordinated action), are lying coalesced in the waters of the Dead Sea whose specific gravity is far higher than the most contaminated waters discharged by the most negligent of Municipal bodies across the inhabited world. The fall out of this being that the person in question will seem so lost in the endeavour he or she is involved with that they may fail to react to their own name, even when being repeatedly addressed thus…the scientifically proven medical truth being that each cell of that human’s brain and every wispy follicle of his or her being in intensely poised to keep the eyes from closing, for such an act will be the ruination of such a carefully constructed and precariously maintained charade, not just for the individual in question but also for his or her progenitors, successors, and other genetically unconnected currently enrolled members of the same or similar species a.k.a the salaried class. Sisters and brothers, those who swear allegiance to, and dutifully serve, often going above and beyond the call of duty, in all all eight cardinal directions, and some points amidst those, it is my humble prayer that you recognise the situation, understand the trials and tribulations of the member of the global brotherhood or sorority, empathise with the situation, and take necessary steps to tone down ones own output of noise, motion, and work done, (an uncontrollable scalar quantity), so that the reverie may remain unbroken, and the individual in question may be allowed to rise out of the situation at a pace dictated by a inverse version of the Newtonian Law Of Cooling. (Again for the interested minority, the Law states, ‘The rate of change of cooling is directly proportional to the difference in temperature between the beginning and end state’, or some such Latin balderdash). In reality, the deeper the passage into the miasma characterised by the focused stare, the longer the duration taken and slower the passage of time for the return to a state of seeming normalcy, a loaded nomenclature, given that today’s pressured world forces one to ask if anything is ever normal…