My parents, aunts, uncles, elders, neighbors, etc. are always good about staying up on what us kids are up to nowadays. Rightfully so - this world is vastly different from theirs.
But spelling things out for them can get tough. Life as a twenty-something can be described in pictures: somewhere in between THIS* and THAT. I mean, don't fall into some pit of despair and don't get too carried away - strive for that happy medium.
When Cubicle Land was a newborn blog almost 3 (*gasp) years ago, I was closer to the "holy sh!t, m*ther fck, gag me with a spoon" stage of twenty-something. That stage is characterized by a lot of freaking out about your future (since the one you had imagined is obliterated by the Real World, federal taxes, and having your parents as roommates). It's an unfortunate existence.
And I'm kind of sick of everyone telling us how to be. Let's get our own agendas, shall we? Auntie Em, we're not struggling twenty-somethings anymore!
Have we made it? Nah. But we're getting the hang of it.
After college graduation, I had unpacked the last bundle of clothes in my childhood room and stood there to wonder why my expectations of finding a rich husband at college had fallen short. "Where," I wondered, "is my sugar daddy?" My parents, like most of yours, were married between age 22-25.
Wtf is that noise, right??
Let's draw a quick comparison chart:
24 I was single...very - 24 my parents were HITCHED
24 I had just lost my first job - 24 my father had been promoted at his job...sorry, CAREER
24 I had just moved back in with my parents - 24 my parents were already settled in their HOUSE
Now that the obvious has been made more obvious - let's find someone to blame for why we can't have everything we ever wanted. Just kidding.
As this blog sprouted and flourished it afforded me more fun, a better outlet, and numerous (sometimes prosperous) opportunities. Advice moment: find a hobby and go with it, if you can make money doing so then great; but if it does nothing more than make you smile and connect with this world and other people in it, then that's gold and don't let it go.
During that time between 23/24, we kicked more into the twenty-something groove. It's less scary, but sometimes we had to wonder if we were settling. Don't think that. Know that you're enjoying, taking it all in...like, yolo...right? I mean don't literally sit around doing nothing; always move and work towards something - otherwise you WILL get stuck in this vortex. Simply put: Just make sure you know people who've 'made it', and hang out with people who want to 'make it' someday.
At some point in between the THEN and the NOW, we grew up. Cubicle Land is a place that we all know, but we aren't there physically or mentally any more. Trust me...Cubicle Land can be a mentality if you let it...DON'T. I'm just glad that those times, memories, and cracks weren't missed. They'll forever be here on the interwebs.
We have real jobs now. Some even have careers. We're making our marks!
A whole lot of growing up happened and I don't really know when, but it did. Cubicle Land had a purpose - it was to give a voice to the telemarketer, the intern, the entry-level, the first-timer, the newbie. Google 'twenty-something' right now. There are a LOT of voices out there. We should be so proud.
So before the final sign off, there are many thanks:
The FWG - for some reason, this blog showed you that I was up to snuff to write for you. I don't question your judgement. I appreciate all of the opportunities. Now that your blog has incidentally started spamming my email address, I can't help but wonder if it's karma for getting too busy to keep up with FWG. For that, I'm sorry. FWG was a good time.
My roommates new and old - bitch sessions, laugh out louds, and stories; let's keep a good thing going.
J-woww - we still send mostly-daily emails with Internet goods, gossip, and anything else that gets us through the day. Forever cube buddies. Thanks for getting me to the bar.
J-fizz - if anyone knows everything it's you. What's that saying...a good friend bails you out of jail; but a true friend is sitting next to you in the cell. A story has a beginning, a middle, an end; a listener, a teller, a character or two. Thank you for being all of those - and for instigating, jesting, and humoring all/most situations that I end up in.
My parents - you may have been resistant to read the blog; and that's okay. Now sometimes you read without telling me! Sneaky parents, you probably shouldn't be privvy to a lot of these stories. But I think we're on to something great here so remember: everything I am is despite of and because of you. Thanks.
My grandmother - my grandmother is so cool. She texts, Skypes, and knows how to have a cocktail. She has the good grace to put me in my place when I was blogging in haste and remind me that actions have consequences.
The neighbors - thanks for enjoying the stories, and ya know supporting my career. Gym peeps - for laughing with me, and at me. You've made mornings fun, and give me something to look forward to after a long day under the flourescent light. Thanks for giving me hope that there's life after Cubicle Land...and for the bits of advice and lots of support in life (and now my career). Clearly, I've needed it.
The Office - ah, some formidable years. Hopefully I'll never walk the 8th again, but maybe someday up to the 12th wouldn't be so bad. The Management could have used some...I dunno...boundaries, legal implications, and/or moral compass. However, there was no better place to start. Really we can only smile because it can only get better than that.
The New Office - you aight. The Office may have jaded me; so pleaseandthankyou for your patience.
Cubies (again) - the reign and times of Cubicle Land are being carried on by Barstool. Get after it: Barstool Cubicle Chronicles
Is this the end? Yes. For Cubicle Land, it absolutely is. This blog has served its wonderful, frightening purpose. Since there's still living to do, I'm sure you'll find my latest ventures somewhere in the spin cycle of Google searches.
Or maybe I'll start posting pictures of my meals and bombing Facebook statuses with terrible insights and daily milestones. Yolo.
Final thoughts: Make some stories. And rock it out. Don't be regretful, know that it was exactly what you wanted at the time. People will judge you. Whatever. Now go tell someone because they can probably one-up you and make you feel way better about yourself. Oh yeah: and when in doubt, put out.
Hahaha! We've all seen the duckface pics that chicks are putting up these days. J-fizz sent me this very educational post on the duckface and its origin. Yolo fa'sho sho. Hahaha, make ya think twice before striking that pose. Or maybe it seems all too familiar to you...
Ish. Anyways.
So I laughed after seeing that text. Then I went to my kitchen (crawlspace).
I rummaged. Grabbed the carton of milk and looked around to see if anyone was looking while I drank out of it (nobody was looking. phew.) - right as I took a swig I saw this tacked up on our fridge:
This ad is pretty awesome and may possibly be America's saving grace.
Can you imagine driving past that on 490? Hoodrats would be in a 30 car pile-up screaming all that 'well I NEVER...!' and 'OH MY WORD!?'.
Right. "I would never want a younger man to hit on me" said no housewife ever.
That is direct marketing at its finest. A good way to make sure you're reaching your target audience is to completely offend/repel others. I'd respond very well to something like "we got balls"...you know, for any lacrosse equipment I may need.
Still though, what ever happened to the thrill of the hunt? Just because these broads are mom'd up and coked out doesn't mean that all romance should be cast aside like their fake eyelashes and 6" stilletto at 4am from a weeknight bender. Hopefully those mother fckers can sack up.
I really have nothing else to say
If you text me, halfway through the day
Declaring: I'm just waking up
Oh. Sorry that you're well-rested
But my patience is getting tested
Because the rest of the working world has been up since dawn.
We've gulped down coffee, eaten several meals
Emailed the hell out of co-workers and convinced ourselves that gremlins are real
(Seriously because everything is missing from the fridge)
Yes. 12:30 pm means I'm knee deep in Corporate waste.
Lunch is from 12 to 1
Were you under the impression that I could scoot out for some fun?
Wrong.
I'm debating a 20minute nap, trying to drag my ass through the next four hours at my desk.
*************
Is that some sick joke? Waking up after noon?? That's when I go for a midday cruise and a motivational pep talk (from self) to scrape through the remainder of the calendar's events. Wtf.
