Workaholic Anonymous

I had only worked at the office for around a month when a guy on the sales team teased me about being a workaholic.

I was instantly confused. Mildly resentful. Slightly flattered.

Me and my work. My work and I. Kind of sounds like a bad holiday blockbuster about a master and his dog. Not quite sure which one I am though. I am often entangled in an emotional relationship with my work. Too much passion, self-esteem, guilt, obligation, and pride involved. So much so that sometimes I just don't have much left over energy for my family and close friends, let alone myself.

But since graduation, I've tried to reorient my life. I stop waking up at 5 am to start plugging away at a project. I only stayed at the office till midnight once. I'm hopping on trains to other cities every weekend. I'm reading again for the sheer love of words. I'm even enrolled in a yoga class where they make me slap my butt for five minutes ("to stimulate blood flow!") and close my eyes while the teacher forces me to lay still ("Relax your toes. Relax your knees. Relax your uterus!"). 

And now I'm making skype dates with all the friends I've been neglecting. So um if you get an email from me about skyping and catching up, please say yes? I need a good excuse to take a break from that yoga class. My butt is kind of sore.

Graduation Karma

As I stood in line at the Honors graduation banquet, I snickered at the thought of somebody tripping at the makeshift stairs. It just seemed like a movie-like moment that every graduation should have. My vote was for the girl with the ankle-length maxi dress.

She sailed right through.

And then it was my turn.

I walked confidently up the steps in my nude Nine West pumps. 

All of a sudden, my right foot felt cold. And it hit further down than it should.

I was momentarily confused. Shauna, the lady reading out the names of the graduate, gasped, "her shoe!"

I looked back. My right shoe was caught and I had left it behind.

After edging back down the steps and putting it back on, I smiled as big as I could and walked back up again as if nothing had happened.

The Honors program director squeezed my hand and whispered, "Congratulations, Cinderella."

I could have died.

--

Afterward, Casey proudly showed me the camera in his hand. He had videoed the entire thing.

Better yet, news reached my parents fast, and my mom left a voice mail saying, "We are so proud of you, Cinderella-graduator."


My feelings about karma has not changed.

----

On a separate graduation note, remember how I wondered about the whole throwing-your-cap myth?

Well, it actually happened.

Except, when the photographer told us to remove our caps and throw it up in the air, I had to frantically take out all the bobby pins securing my cap to my hair.

And I missed it.

So, I did my own.