Receding Line

Wow! Is what plainly describes the new exoneration. The new inscribe. A feeling of a hidden despair vanishing in a flash. And what a change, it has brought in too.

After a medication advice from a practitioner, it felt like going under the knife. The receding line was clearly visible and was nearly total when a recent intimation happened. Perplexed by the ugly getup it portrayed, hurrying through the buses and ending up at a salon.

The salon was quite exquisite. With leather-cushioned seats, adjustable heights and a kit load of accessories to operate with. And hosts, uncountable. Spikes- for the men and women alike, it looked like a shrub with no grass cut ever in its tenure. White makeups, scissors in their pockets and a black robe to cover the dirt that sprayed onto them with a welcome message splashed. It was luxurious for the air-conditioning service pre-installed in the salon and on the customer's pocket. Beams of drying equipment, trimmers and cash counters blocked the paths. All of a sudden, a lady bangs open the door and orders me to sit on the decorated chairs. Like a stuffed goat, ready to be axed.

Innocent me, obeyed as ordered. And then zip-zap-zoom! Two clothes of towels quickly engulfed the chest. And a coat for the same dirt to fall on. I had an intention this time. To cover up the receding line as well as show it up in a cult fashion. And then came up the trimmer onto my head. Of course, before the custom of asking the style that you need. Which, at first instance, I didn't know about.

The line started to disappear and emerged a partly flashy skin, ridiculous with the companions around. Not withstanding the stupid look, I suggested her to continue trimming it up and closed my eyes. After three rounds of the electronic instrument over the head, it finally stopped. I opened my eyes after the weird look and found to my surprise, a neat and clean head, not to worry about. Not to doubt on. Happy on the choice made. And a emergence of attitude.

Posting a snapshot of the new look, I amazed myself more. With the global acceptance and likable feature, I swelled up more with pride. With a paltry sum charged amid wonders.

Inspire

The 50th post had to be special. For an incident to be shared that cannot be forgotten. Or not made to. An oasis in a mirage of hopes and thoughts in a desert of laid back human resources.

On my visit to a career fair in my university, I was eager to catch a glimpse of the new companies that had few to work, but tons of it. No biasing here. But the MNC stalls just didn't make me interested. After catching few persons of this nature of work and their demand, I was caught in attention by a tall, white, half-bald person who was with a MacBook and a stool as his stall. He had this gleam of passion in his eyes and the body language was just supporting it. Dressed in casual shirt and jeans, he then began his short speech. Err.. Introduction, I mean.

He was the Chief Technology Officer of the company that he was campaigning for and had flew all the way to Singapore from the US. Just to meet passionate people. Just that! Other stalls were of the regular nature of asking your technical skills and the monotonous nonsense which wasn't worth for.

But not this fellow. He was of the opinion that as long as you want to grow as a developer, technical skills doesn't matter. Be it Ruby, Java or Python. A beginner, novice or an expert. Related or unrelated to the nature of work. As long as you know what it takes to remain as a developer. The study, rigorous practice and explorations that cannot be imagined. He had this unique feature to convince people through the style of work he has done and that simple thing of saying a lot but in a completely jovial manner.

The person's name? Andy Croll. Of ImpulseFlyer. Check out the website to know what I was portraying. What made me his fan was this post. A recommended read. Share and be inspired! And yes, do read his other posts. You might just be on the verge of joining him one day.