A meeting, a perfume launch, and an after-work HappyHour at Words Worth — all these on my only day home this week!
Loving what I do because I could be spending the entire day in bed with my truckload of books, but if I’m not filling up my days and making sure I’m dead beat by the end of the night, I feel underworked and downright lazy.
Come to think of it, I’m turning 23.
Working has made me feel that age is nothing but numbers, cuz nobody ever takes that into consideration. Being too young or too old doesn’t give you any excuse not to be at optimum efficiency. It’s so strange for me to be the youngest most of the time, yet nobody treats me like a kid. And I appreciate not being treated like I can’t handle myself plus 250 people.
Today I had this strong epiphany while doing up my chignon – that is, my hair is not growing faster than usual. Rather, time is flying day after day without my conscious awareness that it has slipped me by. Didn’t I just transform my long hair into a bob a coupla months ago?
How many more days can I still tell my colleagues “I’m turning 23”?
I just know that when it’s time for me to say “I’m turning 25”, I want to be a hell lot of a better person than I am now. And as always, no regrets.
“My heart is warm with the friends I make,
And better friends I’ll not be knowing,
Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take,
No matter where it’s going.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay
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