With a spinning head, I’d like to break a common notion today. Just because someone’s doing what they love, does NOT mean they have an easy life.
I have been hearing this for quite some time. “Your life’s so easy. You travel all you want and don’t have to worry about EMIs, your family’s opinions, or the boss hounding you. You just hammer words on your keyboard, and there’s food on your plate. Oh and your parents pay for your travels, right?
Well, that’s not the case. My life appeals to my likes, sure. But easy? Nah.
Here’s one instance:
I am working on an assignment that deals with explaining the methods of manufacturing bourbon. I have to write 5 articles that sum up to 10000 words, exclusively on Bourbon. I am currently staying in the dry district of Spiti in Himachal Pradesh, where they give you Seabuckthorn juice when you ask for a drink.
I agreed to this assignment because Damon Salvatore from The Vampire Diaries jumped out and winked at me. He said it would be fun. With his devilish smile, he waved a glass of bourbon in front of me.
And also because I need to put that food on my plate.
Writing 10000 words about something you don’t know is harder than snatching candy from a crying baby. To churn out the best articles I knew I had to recreate a bourbon haze in my head. So I ask Damon- the demon Salvatore brother, to pour me a glass of his classic Bourbon that lets him bite pretty girls in the neck without remorse.
After spending an entire day sitting on the Salvatore house sofa and drunk-chatting with Damon, I now know that this Kentucky-made whiskey must have 51% corn in it. You can play around with the other grains in the alcohol, but not corn. Its distillation process is so meticulous that Michaelangelo’s sculptures look easy. If you want the US Federal law to approve your bourbon it has to be 160 proof at distillation and 125 proof in the aging barrel. And then, your bourbon must age like a fine wine.
That’s how I bit into the topic and churned out 10000 words on Bourbon 101 within 5 working days.
So people, if you want to cry about how your life gives you a tough time, please do. In fact, invite me for a drink over a weekend and tell me all about it. I will listen. I have more empathy than you.
But don’t ever say that I have an easy life. My job makes me go fuzzy and focused in the same minute. My job is to chase deadlines with a swaying neck and heavy eyes. My job is to imagine myself sharing a sofa with hot vampires and asking them to spill their drinks.
By the way, if you are going to invite me for drunk-talks this weekend, I’ll have a 180-proof non-chill filtered bourbon, thanks.
