I miss doing this. Trying to make a coherent and respectable entry for my journal and always ending up as flaky as my previous entries with thought-crumbs of undistinguishable theme and faux oraganization of ideas. This second paragraph is already an impending disaster.
But I am smiling while writing this.
You see, my hand, heart and my brain grew fonder of journal composition as I have been bereft of this for several months.
Here, feeling like a grown-up - being in the office and hair in tight pony tail - but not quite.
Almost.
My friend (who says/admits to herself that her life is piled up with issues ranging from pre-puberty to serious type of dilemmas) asked me if she is already in the stage of what they call the mid-life crisis. I told her, "Silly, you're too young for that."
So how must we term it? The (first) quarter-life crisis?
How do we define, as quarter-old beings, a crisis?
To my Joligs-LJ friends, let's LJ again, shall we? Hehe.
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My lips secretly curve to a smile when I see high school kids on their way to school - to my old school where I spent my pre-school, elementary and high school life. I was a loyalty awardee, obviously.
I'm happy Jo and I experienced the same high school - when projects and impromptu graded recitations are your daily challenges.
High school is immortal.
It is cool and comforting to think that we tread the same corridors and took the same pop quizzes - that we shared that juvenile concept of invincibility...regardless if we did our homeworks or not.
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Ok, back to work. :)






