I want my Star Wars lunchbox
I'm feeling nostalgic today.
Either that or my hormones are raging out of control (possible), because this piece in today's Washington Post made me all misty.
I don't know, maybe it's because I could really identify with the author's frustration that the working world just isn't what we bargained for when we were younger. If I had known that being an "adult" meant dealing with office politics, shuffling papers, and sitting through hours upon hours of meetings that seemed to go round and round, I probably would have just joined the circus or something.
It's nice to know that others feel the same frustration, and are able to find ways--even if small--to hold on to a part of childhood, innocence, quirkiness.
Now I just need to find my own "lunchbox."
Either that or my hormones are raging out of control (possible), because this piece in today's Washington Post made me all misty.
I don't know, maybe it's because I could really identify with the author's frustration that the working world just isn't what we bargained for when we were younger. If I had known that being an "adult" meant dealing with office politics, shuffling papers, and sitting through hours upon hours of meetings that seemed to go round and round, I probably would have just joined the circus or something.
It's nice to know that others feel the same frustration, and are able to find ways--even if small--to hold on to a part of childhood, innocence, quirkiness.
Now I just need to find my own "lunchbox."
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