As a student, I never really stopped to think about what a Sunday could possibly mean. For me, it was just another holiday lost in the throng of holidays waiting for me. Summer holidays, Diwali holidays, Christmas holidays. Just another way to let out all the ‘supposed’ stress that education put me through. The days would come and go by with me doing little more than plopping my lazy behind on the couch and flipping through channels. And then I grew up.
I always thought that the end of college spelt freedom for me. For three years, I waited to step out and get myself a wonderful career, earn a lot of money and spend it without a thought. My working friends would smile knowingly and ask me to make the most of my college days, as those were the days where freedom was easy to gain. I, however, thought they were wrong. Now, I often wish I could go back to those times and kick some sense into my tiny little brains. I wish I could go back and tell myself to make the most of my college days. Because lately, freedom is one of those little items in my list of ‘unachievable dreams’.
My first job was not really a job. I barely had anything to do, and as my colleagues often said, it was ‘chilled out’. A year went by, and I did not achieve much, and soon, it was time for me to move on. And then came the real world, crashing down upon me like an avalanche, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I spend 6 days a week, innumerable hours a day, cooped up in what we call ‘the dungeon’ trying to achieve 10 things at one go. That is when I realise how grateful I am for the joy of 'Sundays'.
Throughout the week, the one thing that helps me grin and bear the ups and downs is the thought of the Sunday, my light at the end of the dark and dreary tunnel. A Sunday where I can stay in bed all day doing absolutely nothing. A Sunday where I will not be plagued by alarms, deadlines, lunatic project managers, marketing people who think they are the next David Ogilvy and clients who pay us to communicate and end up doing most of it themselves, because creativity seems to evade them like the plague. A Sunday that is just for me and my crazy thoughts, a break from the daily roller-coaster ride. My day of peace and unashamed laziness. My day to tell the world to go take a hike, because I have the divine right to stay plonked on the bed all day and not give a hoot about a deadline; the client won't die if his brochure says '4-6 hours' instead of '6 hours' for a few more minutes. Something as trivial as this is forbidden to wrench me out of my paradise and fling me into the deepest pits of hell. So here goes, Sunday is MY day. No matter what anyone says or does, Sunday is the one day I refuse to wrack my tiny brains, even for something as inconsequential as deciding on a meal.
Dec 10, 2009
Old Mrs.Higgins
Here's a poem I wrote at work today, something I worked on within 10 minutes!
Old Mrs. Higgins
Had 5 little kittens
She kept them warm and dry.
She wrapped them in mittens,
She was oh so smitten,
And fed them steak and kidney pie.
As the days went by
They gobbled each pie
And grew up to be big, fat cats
They ate and they slept
They stretched and they crept
And scratched Mrs. Higgins' best mats.
Old Mrs. Higgins
Had 5 little kittens
She kept them warm and dry.
She wrapped them in mittens,
She was oh so smitten,
And fed them steak and kidney pie.
As the days went by
They gobbled each pie
And grew up to be big, fat cats
They ate and they slept
They stretched and they crept
And scratched Mrs. Higgins' best mats.
This Christmas, I wish I was invisible
It's been a long time since I visited my blog, forget updating it. Work has been putting me through a freak storm, my thoughts are actually on a roller-coaster ride - from writing fun Grammar activities to finishing a book on the dos and don'ts of pregnancy to promoting a movie I strongly hate - it has been one heck of a joy ride (you should see the way my eyes roll every time they see the word 'joy').
Let's start with the pregnancy book. To expect a 22 year old single woman to write a book on what to expect every single week of your blessed pregnancy is a little too far fetched. Not for this particular client though. It was generously spread out onto my plate. I wont say it was a complete disaster. I can proudly say that I actually know more than most of my pregnant friends and relatives about pregnancy. And for once, the client had nothing to change. It was simply perfect. No 'turn the will to shall', no 'attached seems like a cool word when writing to a pregnant woman about her baby' (well, duh!) no 'freak the pregnant woman out'. Just perfect.
As for the grammar activities, that was the only bright side to this month long journey through the dark tunnel, the one place where I could just let the creativity flow. No annoying client pestering you for ridiculous changes, no project manager breathing fire down your neck for deadlines. Nothing. I would plop down into our creative corner, known as the 'think bar' (Don't get too excited, there is no alcohol in that little corner) and let my thought fly.
The books seem to be coming to an end though. The dark side is taking over. Earlier, I faced one of the most challenging task ever - promoting a movie I detest. Not that it is racist or gory, it is plain and simple daft. You need to realize that children do no fall for lame magic crap anymore. No one needs a pathetic kid with the ability to 'almost die and yet survive' when you have stuff like boy wizards, cooler super heroes and vampires to entice you. And yet, I was forced to churn out lines that would make anybody cringe every single time they so much as glanced at the poster. Courtesy a stuck up marketing executive who thinks creativity comes naturally to her...far from it, the woman is the exact antithesis of the word 'creativity'. The challenging part is to get your creative idea to the client when such blocks of wood stand in your way. Did I say wood? I meant tempered titanium steel.
So Santa Claus, I ask for just one thing this Christmas. The power to be invisible. Even if I misused it by killing someone, I would be doing the world a favour by getting rid of that evil maniac. I need a break too. I work hard to make sure I can enjoy life without any financial glitches coming my way, but I fail to find time to enjoy. My friends greet me with glares instead of affection, my mother has simply given up and my best friend seldom sees me, even though we live right opposite each other. As far as I can remember, last Christmas I asked for a happy life. And i am far from it. Santa Claus, make me happy or the consequences will be fatal. Sorry, I didn't mean that, just be nice and make sure that this Christmas, I am at home with my family having a good time, not rotting away in the dungeon trying to scare a pregnant woman or teach a dumb someone how to roast.
Let's start with the pregnancy book. To expect a 22 year old single woman to write a book on what to expect every single week of your blessed pregnancy is a little too far fetched. Not for this particular client though. It was generously spread out onto my plate. I wont say it was a complete disaster. I can proudly say that I actually know more than most of my pregnant friends and relatives about pregnancy. And for once, the client had nothing to change. It was simply perfect. No 'turn the will to shall', no 'attached seems like a cool word when writing to a pregnant woman about her baby' (well, duh!) no 'freak the pregnant woman out'. Just perfect.
As for the grammar activities, that was the only bright side to this month long journey through the dark tunnel, the one place where I could just let the creativity flow. No annoying client pestering you for ridiculous changes, no project manager breathing fire down your neck for deadlines. Nothing. I would plop down into our creative corner, known as the 'think bar' (Don't get too excited, there is no alcohol in that little corner) and let my thought fly.
The books seem to be coming to an end though. The dark side is taking over. Earlier, I faced one of the most challenging task ever - promoting a movie I detest. Not that it is racist or gory, it is plain and simple daft. You need to realize that children do no fall for lame magic crap anymore. No one needs a pathetic kid with the ability to 'almost die and yet survive' when you have stuff like boy wizards, cooler super heroes and vampires to entice you. And yet, I was forced to churn out lines that would make anybody cringe every single time they so much as glanced at the poster. Courtesy a stuck up marketing executive who thinks creativity comes naturally to her...far from it, the woman is the exact antithesis of the word 'creativity'. The challenging part is to get your creative idea to the client when such blocks of wood stand in your way. Did I say wood? I meant tempered titanium steel.
So Santa Claus, I ask for just one thing this Christmas. The power to be invisible. Even if I misused it by killing someone, I would be doing the world a favour by getting rid of that evil maniac. I need a break too. I work hard to make sure I can enjoy life without any financial glitches coming my way, but I fail to find time to enjoy. My friends greet me with glares instead of affection, my mother has simply given up and my best friend seldom sees me, even though we live right opposite each other. As far as I can remember, last Christmas I asked for a happy life. And i am far from it. Santa Claus, make me happy or the consequences will be fatal. Sorry, I didn't mean that, just be nice and make sure that this Christmas, I am at home with my family having a good time, not rotting away in the dungeon trying to scare a pregnant woman or teach a dumb someone how to roast.
Nov 13, 2009
1000 Recipes. 2 Months. Conclusion: Sanity and sleep are fickle friends.
At Last. At long last!
I have finally finished editing a thousand Indian recipes. After almost two months of insomnia, paranoia and never-ending stress, the cookbook is out of the frying pan (Although, hopefully not into the fire!). I will not say it has been a joy ride, sarcasm at this point really isnt worth the trouble. A sense of tranquility had descended upon me. The Heavens above have finally decided to show us some mercy.
The last two months seem like a long gone nightmare, even though the cookbook was transferred from my plate less than 24 hours ago. I can sleep through the night without waking up in sweats wondering if I had forgotten to end a complicated chicken recipe with 'Serve hot'. I can actually face the thought of going through another day without wanting to wail and crawl back into the warm covers of my welcoming bed. I can look around the office and see people pulling their hair out over critical deadlines without stressing over my own. It has finally left me.
My boss said I might experience withdrawal symptoms once the book will cease to haunt me on a daily basis. It may be a little too soon to say this, but I disagree. I have shared an extremely confusing love-hate relationship with the cook book, but I am glad to see it go away, and I will keep my fingers crossed for the book to stay as far away from me as possible.
My colleagues insisted I have a Thank you speech ready, and I do have one, as this task makes me feel like I deserve an award. For a 'barely-out-of-their-teens' person with an attention span less than that of the very wise Homer Simpson, I have achieved the impossible. So here goes - I would like to thank AS, my partner in crime, who stood by me all the while and went through the same hell. We may laugh and come up with crude jokes about the cook book and identify the innuendos in the plainest of instructions, but deep down, we feel the excruciating pain and the humungous effort we put in to create this 'fat monster'. We feel like we have done it all, and we can confidently take on every editing project that comes our way, no matter how challenging (That doesn't mean we will, no more cook books for us, Thank you very much.).
I would also like to than Mr. H, the dear old man who provided us with a never ending supply of tea - the only addictive substance consumed by us through this nightmare.) RR - for bearing with us and coming up with innovative recipes for us to edit. SK - for being a real source of comfort and a shoulder to cry on. DM and AD - for the constant witty comments that helped lighten the burden with a much-needed laugh, as tempers were flying high. KM - for putting up with the pathetic yet valid excuses we came up with to push the deadlines. SM - for the encouraging words and the promise to take us out to dinner once we were done with the edit. Last but never the least, My dementor - who bargained for deadlines like you would at a roadside stall on the streets of Mumbai, and yet bribed us with food and encouraged us when we refused to so much as look at another recipe. We have disgraced her name and called her things and yet she greets us every morning with a smile on her face saying 'How's my favorite team doing today?' Thank you, dear dementor, for putting up with the mood swings and tantrums and ranting and whining.
For now, I feel like I am floating in a peaceful meadow. There are other projects that now demand my attention, but I doubt if any of them will have me as involved as the beloved cook book. If only I could finely chop the memories and serve them to the devil :)
I have finally finished editing a thousand Indian recipes. After almost two months of insomnia, paranoia and never-ending stress, the cookbook is out of the frying pan (Although, hopefully not into the fire!). I will not say it has been a joy ride, sarcasm at this point really isnt worth the trouble. A sense of tranquility had descended upon me. The Heavens above have finally decided to show us some mercy.
The last two months seem like a long gone nightmare, even though the cookbook was transferred from my plate less than 24 hours ago. I can sleep through the night without waking up in sweats wondering if I had forgotten to end a complicated chicken recipe with 'Serve hot'. I can actually face the thought of going through another day without wanting to wail and crawl back into the warm covers of my welcoming bed. I can look around the office and see people pulling their hair out over critical deadlines without stressing over my own. It has finally left me.
My boss said I might experience withdrawal symptoms once the book will cease to haunt me on a daily basis. It may be a little too soon to say this, but I disagree. I have shared an extremely confusing love-hate relationship with the cook book, but I am glad to see it go away, and I will keep my fingers crossed for the book to stay as far away from me as possible.
My colleagues insisted I have a Thank you speech ready, and I do have one, as this task makes me feel like I deserve an award. For a 'barely-out-of-their-teens' person with an attention span less than that of the very wise Homer Simpson, I have achieved the impossible. So here goes - I would like to thank AS, my partner in crime, who stood by me all the while and went through the same hell. We may laugh and come up with crude jokes about the cook book and identify the innuendos in the plainest of instructions, but deep down, we feel the excruciating pain and the humungous effort we put in to create this 'fat monster'. We feel like we have done it all, and we can confidently take on every editing project that comes our way, no matter how challenging (That doesn't mean we will, no more cook books for us, Thank you very much.).
I would also like to than Mr. H, the dear old man who provided us with a never ending supply of tea - the only addictive substance consumed by us through this nightmare.) RR - for bearing with us and coming up with innovative recipes for us to edit. SK - for being a real source of comfort and a shoulder to cry on. DM and AD - for the constant witty comments that helped lighten the burden with a much-needed laugh, as tempers were flying high. KM - for putting up with the pathetic yet valid excuses we came up with to push the deadlines. SM - for the encouraging words and the promise to take us out to dinner once we were done with the edit. Last but never the least, My dementor - who bargained for deadlines like you would at a roadside stall on the streets of Mumbai, and yet bribed us with food and encouraged us when we refused to so much as look at another recipe. We have disgraced her name and called her things and yet she greets us every morning with a smile on her face saying 'How's my favorite team doing today?' Thank you, dear dementor, for putting up with the mood swings and tantrums and ranting and whining.
For now, I feel like I am floating in a peaceful meadow. There are other projects that now demand my attention, but I doubt if any of them will have me as involved as the beloved cook book. If only I could finely chop the memories and serve them to the devil :)
Oct 26, 2009
Lately, there happens to be just one thing I can think/dream/talk/write/ blog/ harp/complain about. The cook book. It has successfully snatched the reigns of my life from me and now occupies every single nook and cranny in my crazy head. No matter how I hard I try to get away from it, the blessed book hunts me down, jumps out in front of me and yells 'Gotcha!' and then sticks to me like George Bush to the false fantasy of finding Osama Bin Laden.
I thought Sunday would be a great day to lock the book away and catch up on normal human activities, namely, socializing with friends in order to remind them that I still exist and clean up the disheveled burrow that happens to be my room. It began as a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly through my window, the pile of clothes pleading to be folded and arranged neatly, the papers and books strewn all over the room urging to be stacked and returned to their respective shelves. I finally managed to spare the room a glance and begin my cleaning spree, which surprisingly didn't take me too long. Although I shouldn't be that surprised, the cook book makes me look at the usually boring tasks in my life with a lot more enthusiasm than I usually spare. Once I was done and the room managed to look not spotless clean, but decently acceptable, a friend and I decided to step out for a movie - Julia & Julie.
I usually let my common sense prevail over my impulses and review the plot of a movie before watching it. Now call it fate or sheer bad luck that I decided to skip that part for this movie. I plopped down on the comfortable seat, completely clueless as to what the movie was all about. And there it came. A cook book! My eyes almost popped out of my sockets. No way could this be happening to me. All I wanted was a day to myself, just 24 hours of pure me, no cookbook baggage attached, and yet there it was, right in front of my eyes, mocking me.
This boils down to just one thought:The @#$@#$@% cookbook has now become an integral part of my existence, and I may not be able to part with it. No matter how much I yearn to. It will continue to haunt me for days, months or maybe even years to come. But I refused to be threatened by it. No longer will it rule my life, or dictate my actions in anyway. Which reminds me, I better stop writing now, the cookbook is waiting for me :)
I thought Sunday would be a great day to lock the book away and catch up on normal human activities, namely, socializing with friends in order to remind them that I still exist and clean up the disheveled burrow that happens to be my room. It began as a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly through my window, the pile of clothes pleading to be folded and arranged neatly, the papers and books strewn all over the room urging to be stacked and returned to their respective shelves. I finally managed to spare the room a glance and begin my cleaning spree, which surprisingly didn't take me too long. Although I shouldn't be that surprised, the cook book makes me look at the usually boring tasks in my life with a lot more enthusiasm than I usually spare. Once I was done and the room managed to look not spotless clean, but decently acceptable, a friend and I decided to step out for a movie - Julia & Julie.
I usually let my common sense prevail over my impulses and review the plot of a movie before watching it. Now call it fate or sheer bad luck that I decided to skip that part for this movie. I plopped down on the comfortable seat, completely clueless as to what the movie was all about. And there it came. A cook book! My eyes almost popped out of my sockets. No way could this be happening to me. All I wanted was a day to myself, just 24 hours of pure me, no cookbook baggage attached, and yet there it was, right in front of my eyes, mocking me.
This boils down to just one thought:The @#$@#$@% cookbook has now become an integral part of my existence, and I may not be able to part with it. No matter how much I yearn to. It will continue to haunt me for days, months or maybe even years to come. But I refused to be threatened by it. No longer will it rule my life, or dictate my actions in anyway. Which reminds me, I better stop writing now, the cookbook is waiting for me :)
Oct 16, 2009
The festival of lights!
Diwali is one of the most popular holidays in India and my office seems to be celebrating with a unique combination of festivity and work-pressure. I walked in early today, to find the entire place lit up with colorful lanterns and festoon decorating the entrance of my most favored prison, and felt a sense of happiness descend over me.
It's amazing how festivals can lift the trouble off your shoulders and gift you with a sense of tranquility. I woke up this morning realizing I had to achieve the impossible by finishing an enormous pile of work before I take off on a much needed holiday, and yet, the minute I saw the decorations at work, the dreaded pile didn't matter to me anymore. Work can take a back seat today, the spirit of happiness cannot give way to the nerve-wracking stress.
It's amazing how festivals can lift the trouble off your shoulders and gift you with a sense of tranquility. I woke up this morning realizing I had to achieve the impossible by finishing an enormous pile of work before I take off on a much needed holiday, and yet, the minute I saw the decorations at work, the dreaded pile didn't matter to me anymore. Work can take a back seat today, the spirit of happiness cannot give way to the nerve-wracking stress.
Oct 14, 2009
Epicurean Dilemma
I came, I saw, I fainted!
Editing a whopping 1000 recipes is no joke. The number itself raised my blood pressure to alarming levels; the recipes are working their way into my system like a slow poison. Being a die-hard foodie, I thought this project would be fun. This can easily prove the fact that 1st impressions DO NOT last too long. Three months have passed by, and the cookbook hangs over my head like a death knell. I begin my day with the cookbook, and end it with the cookbook. If that isn't enough, the book has now become an integral part of my nightmares. I cringe at the sight of Indian food, which is a major dilemma, considering the fact that Indian cuisine happens to be my daily fare.
I often wonder how my life would have been without the cookbook. My work hours would have been greatly reduced, I wouldn't look like I stepped straight out of a zombie movie and my dreams would have been comparatively more peaceful. And yet, I do know for a fact that once I bid adieu to the cookbook, I am going to miss it. The madness in my life will cease to exist. Not for too long, though. I am sure another monster is looming somewhere beyond the horizon, awaiting to keep the madness alive.
Editing a whopping 1000 recipes is no joke. The number itself raised my blood pressure to alarming levels; the recipes are working their way into my system like a slow poison. Being a die-hard foodie, I thought this project would be fun. This can easily prove the fact that 1st impressions DO NOT last too long. Three months have passed by, and the cookbook hangs over my head like a death knell. I begin my day with the cookbook, and end it with the cookbook. If that isn't enough, the book has now become an integral part of my nightmares. I cringe at the sight of Indian food, which is a major dilemma, considering the fact that Indian cuisine happens to be my daily fare.
I often wonder how my life would have been without the cookbook. My work hours would have been greatly reduced, I wouldn't look like I stepped straight out of a zombie movie and my dreams would have been comparatively more peaceful. And yet, I do know for a fact that once I bid adieu to the cookbook, I am going to miss it. The madness in my life will cease to exist. Not for too long, though. I am sure another monster is looming somewhere beyond the horizon, awaiting to keep the madness alive.
Oct 12, 2009
A superhero to the recue
Vampires seem to have become a rage lately. Be it the smoldering Bill Compton from True Blood, or the charismatic Edward Cullen (I cant choose between the two), vampires have are the 'in thing'. I was hooked to the twilight series a while ago, hard to resist with someone as mesmerizing as Edward Cullen to look forward to. Lately, twilight has been pushed to the back of my mind thanks to True Blood. And I often wonder, what's next? The Harry Potter and Lord of the rings craze has been taken over by vampires. Who will replace these fanged superheroes? Werewolves? Zombies? Banshees? Aliens? Or an entirely new species?
What I love the most about this is the fact that these are the very characters that were once labeled as evil. Witchcraft was and still if considered as a taboo in many countries and yet Harry Potter is not just accepted, but worshiped worldwide. I have seen children roaming the streets on the 31st of July, dressed as wizards with fake wands, muttering gibberish chants playfully. Vampires were considered to be foul creatures and yet no one who has read twilight will accuse the Cullen clan of being evil. Fictional characters are changing thinking patterns globally, transforming villains into heroes.
I often wonder if the same policy would work for more relevant causes. Say, for example, the homosexual community, that is still looked upon as being 'abnormal' by a majority of the global population. Would it help if someone like Batman came up and declared himself as being homosexual? Would that help change the way people think?
I often wish for a superhero with the power to change the world. But right now, I wish the superhero has the power to complete my current editing project. The world can wait for a few more moments, my cookbook needs rescue :)
What I love the most about this is the fact that these are the very characters that were once labeled as evil. Witchcraft was and still if considered as a taboo in many countries and yet Harry Potter is not just accepted, but worshiped worldwide. I have seen children roaming the streets on the 31st of July, dressed as wizards with fake wands, muttering gibberish chants playfully. Vampires were considered to be foul creatures and yet no one who has read twilight will accuse the Cullen clan of being evil. Fictional characters are changing thinking patterns globally, transforming villains into heroes.
I often wonder if the same policy would work for more relevant causes. Say, for example, the homosexual community, that is still looked upon as being 'abnormal' by a majority of the global population. Would it help if someone like Batman came up and declared himself as being homosexual? Would that help change the way people think?
I often wish for a superhero with the power to change the world. But right now, I wish the superhero has the power to complete my current editing project. The world can wait for a few more moments, my cookbook needs rescue :)
Oct 8, 2009
What's cooking?
A colleague and I have spent a horrendous month editing what we have aptly labelled as a nightmare - a cook book that has successfully drained the happiness from our lives. After numerous days of remaining holed up in the office staring at our screens and trying to make sense out of utter nonsense, we decided to take it easy. If we were drowning in hell, might as well make a few jokes at its expense.
Facebook is an amazing place to vent out your frustrations, mainly through comments on status messages and pictures. As the cook book got progressively obscene (there were recipes that wanted people to flatten their balls with a rolling pin!), so did our jibes, until the project manager stepped in. I have aptly named that woman a dementor - her nightmarish deadlines and constant pressure suck the soul out of me.
I would like to take a moment and pat myself and A, my colleague, on this job well done..It takes guts to blatantly butcher the most complicated Indian recipes into half, and claim we 'edit' thoroughly. Thanks A, for all the support during those scary days, when a nervous breakdown was looming on the horizon. Let's hope to kill this project in a month. :)
P.S. : If I do not add to my blog for over a month, you may assume that the cook book emerged victorious in our vicious battle, and death embraced me like along lost friend who couldn't even wait till my birthday to take me away.
Facebook is an amazing place to vent out your frustrations, mainly through comments on status messages and pictures. As the cook book got progressively obscene (there were recipes that wanted people to flatten their balls with a rolling pin!), so did our jibes, until the project manager stepped in. I have aptly named that woman a dementor - her nightmarish deadlines and constant pressure suck the soul out of me.
I would like to take a moment and pat myself and A, my colleague, on this job well done..It takes guts to blatantly butcher the most complicated Indian recipes into half, and claim we 'edit' thoroughly. Thanks A, for all the support during those scary days, when a nervous breakdown was looming on the horizon. Let's hope to kill this project in a month. :)
P.S. : If I do not add to my blog for over a month, you may assume that the cook book emerged victorious in our vicious battle, and death embraced me like along lost friend who couldn't even wait till my birthday to take me away.
Oct 7, 2009
What was I thinking?
I often wonder what or rather if I was thinking when I wanted to become a writer. It was a rather impulsive decision; as I sat through another mundane lecture daydreaming about sun-kissed beaches and rum-soaked cocktails, I thought - let's make that happen. A humdrum life will never agree with me. I can't sit at the same desk for years, dressed in clothes that were created to kill the owner, staring at a computer for 8 hours everyday for 6 days a week. I wanted something that would make life fun and relatively easy. And Bang! The idea of choosing writing as a profession was born. A tiny little daydream that eventually rooted itself and turned into a reality.
As I look back, I cant really blame myself for choosing this profession. It helps me keep my usually lazy brain extremely active. Although that is strictly limited to office hours. If someone questions me about work during dinner, they are greeted with a completely blank look, or an icy glare that successfully manages to shoo away some of the toughest people I have known.
Writers are often labeled as 'eccentric' , 'weird' and even 'doped'. But I must say, it is the best thing that could ever happen to me. I may criticize every single word I edit, hope that most of my clients rot in the deepest pits of hell, at the end of the day, i can proudly say 'For once, i was thinking right.'
As I look back, I cant really blame myself for choosing this profession. It helps me keep my usually lazy brain extremely active. Although that is strictly limited to office hours. If someone questions me about work during dinner, they are greeted with a completely blank look, or an icy glare that successfully manages to shoo away some of the toughest people I have known.
Writers are often labeled as 'eccentric' , 'weird' and even 'doped'. But I must say, it is the best thing that could ever happen to me. I may criticize every single word I edit, hope that most of my clients rot in the deepest pits of hell, at the end of the day, i can proudly say 'For once, i was thinking right.'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)