éclairs

"Binder clips in my hair," I thought. That's how I got here -- binder clips in my hair.

A few months ago I had the distinct "pleasure" of interviewing another round of candidates for our office manager position. (We all know how well that temporary employee turned out.) One of the interviewees -- a sullen girl, just a year younger than me -- was particularly memorable. To say she interviewed poorly would be an understatement. Slouched in her chair, decidedly underdressed, and without pen, paper, or appropriate questions, I was just about to usher her out of my office when she caught me off guard: "How did you get where you are?" she asked. "You look about my age -- how did you get your position?" I thought about it for a moment and then gave her a short summary of my work experience. This answer seemed to satisfy her, but it didn't satisfy me, so I continued to think about her question long after the interviews were over and a delightfully cheerful new office manager was hired (not the aforementioned girl, of course).

icebox cake

Here I sit, just 30 minutes left to a year, an age, I will miss. I’ve always been the nostalgic type, the type to appreciate the present and then miss it when it’s gone…sometimes even before it’s gone. It’s a good quality, but one that keeps me awake at moments like this, watching the minutes tick by on the clock. Only 24 left. Kenny Chesney’s “Back Where I Come From” floats out of the speakers as I type. This was a big year for me. I moved thousands of miles away from everything I hold dear to a place I knew nothing about, all in pursuit of a dream that I just can’t shake. I don’t have any regrets, but the sacrifice is steep, and times like these are when I'm most aware of what I've chosen to give up. I suppose it's no surprise that I just booked a flight home. In a perfect world, that's where I'd be right now, asleep in my bed, knowing the next day would bring kisses and hugs, celebration and cake.

Today is my 25th birthday.