Sunday, January 30, 2011

Immaturely Mature

Without a healthy mix, there's not a doubt in my mind you'll end up sourly bitter at the age of forty, wishing you would have ditched class in college, danced effortlessly every time you heard your favorite song play in a store dressing room, and drank yourself crazy just to catch up with friends the next day to recap what even happened.

Good news: It's not too late.

So be it. I obsess over Hello Kitty, treat fellow employees as if they are being casted on my own personal sitcom, get overly excited when given sugar in either liquid or candy form, decorate my apartment as if Willy Wonka collaborated with Toys R Us, laugh obnoxiously at cartoons while being unable to take a romance scene in a movie seriously, go to Victoria's Secret just to purchase polka dot underwear, wait in the Mac makeup line to ask an associate where the new fluorescent purple lipstick is located, schedule a manicure only to pick out glitter polish, get overwhelmed when the weekend approaches even if I don't have a single plan, and wear silly bands morning, noon, and night.

Being drawn to colorful candies and crayons doesn't mean you aren't ready for a mature relationship, responsibilities, and an adult work life. Grasping immaturity by the neck will only make you a more approachable individual. If you take life too seriously, you will never enjoy it. I'd rather have people question why my desk is covered in fuzzy bunny stickers, drawings of other employees, and clippings of random commentary than wish I would just crack a smile. As we are told post-graduation, all games aside, we needed to grow up and accept adulthood with open arms.

I refuse.

I'll continue to word my emails obnoxiously and wear pink lipstick inappropriately in the corporate work atmosphere just in spite of those who haven't laughed in over a year. Forever will I be drawn to little cats saying hello, cupcakes, and Japanese characters.

Hate it or love it, I'm not about to change.

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