Well, I'm all caffeinated up, my hair's been styled, my makeup applied...and I'm ready for my first day of work.
I have to admit that after this last year and a half of waking up and simply strolling across the living room to my "office" (a small Ikea desk a kind neighbor left me before they moved out), actually waking up at a set time, putting on an ensemble diligently chosen the night before, and heading out (with second cup of coffee in hand, of course) to commute into the city till rush hour back feels foreign. I barely remember what it felt like before...then I remember, and all those feelings of resentment get dredged up toward CEO of the Year (this is what we're alluding to him as now) and trudging to "Hell" (what my ex-coworkers and I used to call our office) in 95 degree weather with 90% humidity and I start getting a knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach that feels like I ate a bag of patio rocks from Home Depot because I hated, HATED commuting into the city half-asleep every morning with my face pressed against some man's armpit in a crowded, stinky metro train until I remind myself:
"Crystal. This is different. You will actually enjoy this job, unlike the last. Do not be anxious. You cannot continually compare every career experience going forward to Hell and its Commander. Doing so will only wear you down before you even start. Plus, news flash: Your job before Hell (your first job that kicked off your career) was fabulous and you had a great time at that for nearly two years. Remember this. Not all jobs are alike."
And then I breathe a sigh of relief (as I'm doing now) and realize I am right. It will not be like before. The news focus is different; the people in this newsroom are different. Best of all, no matter what time of day (or how hot it is) there's never really any humidity here so I don't have to worry about completely schvitzing in my new, dry-clean-only dress before I've even stepped foot into the office. More sighs of relief.
So here's what I'm wearing for my first day outfit (please forgive the horribly tacky MySpace-ness of these pictures, but I'm in a hurry and still putting on my makeup, which would explain why I'm also headless):
I think Joan Holloway would approve and yes, that is Moneypenny in the last picture, wondering what her deranged owner is doing up so early in three-inch heels. I think I'll add a skinny red belt to the mix and head out!
What's on your literary bucket list?
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