Now you ask why on earth would anybody choose this title or more likely, choose ME for a column. But then, not everything we wish for happens, does it?
So, let me tell you, beloved reader, what to expect from this column. “Perspective” as we at “The ’Zine” call it, is something you would have to use your lazy imagination for.
Imagine a dark room, lit by an oil lamp in the corner, accompanied by a pair of old wooden chair and table, a bald man in his mid-forties, scribbling in a scrawny font and paper balls covering the floor.
Writer, you say, dear reader?
Bingo! Nailed it! But I am not a bald man and I am definitely not forties. Meet me. A sixteen year old fair maiden with a laptop and a well lit room.
Well, like any other glam-ed up and sassed writer, I am going to start with what they call “the acceptance speech” and the true story behind it. And no, you dare not think of it as a spoof from the Oscars’ or the Filmfares’.
“Oh! It’s an honor to write for you [yeah right, I am jobless. You offering, me denying? Not happening]. You don’t have to pay me, I’d do that for free [just saying, she isn’t paying me anyways].”
So when they offered me this column, I had this whole ‘Candace Bushnell’ feeling, except that I’ll be writing about my work and not my personal life, I’ll be a slave and not a guru and write for "The ’Zine" and not the Vogue [frowns at the thought of the last one].
These are not pages from my diary. These are my rants, my demands, my needs, my complaints, my heart-to-heart talks, some buttering to get some money [I can try, can’t I?]. My questions, your answers.
This column will sometimes happen over the coffee, sometimes when you go to sleep with a frown on your face, sometimes in the workplace and sometimes randomly.
So, you tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine.
Maybe someday both of us get paid, eh?
How’s that for a start, Ed?