Monday Morning

I hate being the new girl. I bumble around not really knowing what's going on or what to do, smiling and nodding and trying to portray this professional thing. I just hope I don't have bags under my eyes because I haven't been sleeping very well, or at least it hasn't felt like I've been sleeping very well. I think I just need to get some more Sominex and zonk out at 8:00 to catch up.

I like where my desk is because I can at least see the windows. At my last job I was working in the offices of a warehouse with zero windows on my side of the building. It was hellish. I had to bring in a full-spectrum light to keep from going insane. My cube looks so empty and I'm a little afraid to personalize it very much on my third day. If I get transferred to a new assignment or they don't like me or something I'd feel pretty stupid packing up a bunch of crap and leaving. I brought my little Vivi (FF9) stuffie and a little vinyl diorama of Zidane and Vivi. I've also tacked up my Margaret Cho ticket stub and the newspaper ad that goes with it. I think I'm going to put last night's Wild game ticket stub and my program with Richard Park up on the wall too.

Oh yeah. Did I mention I went to the Wild-Redwings game last night? Did you know that Minnesota kicked serious ass? Did you know that the Redwings went crawling back to Detroit after being shut out by a team they thought they didn't have to take seriously? BWA HA HA. Awww. Poor Federov. Poor Shannahan. Go home, losers. We in the playoffs now.

I remember a time when age 25 actually seemed old. Now that I'm so close, it's weird. The office I'm working in is filled with early-twenty-somethings and I'm left wondering if the workforce has gotten younger or if I've gotten older. When I was 18 I would look at someone who was, say, 23 and think that that person must have done so many things and had so many experiences. I used to think that I'd never make it this far. Now I'm screaming headlong into life and it's...

Weird.