Monday Mourning

I've never been the type to get emotional about anything.  Even when I was little, I was a pretty serious little girl who didn't really get visibly excited about many things. The most obvious thing I liked was fried chicken... and playing an imaginary restaurateur (I had a fried chicken joint called Packing Slip... don't ask why, but it actually doesn't sound that bad).  Actually, when I was little, I knew what I liked and what I didn't. I liked the Internet, making little banners for my room, taking math lessons, and biking around in dressy, princessy dresses.  I didn't like piano lessons, falling down (which I did a lot because I was a clumsy little kid), and PE class.

When you're little, you don't have to explain why you like something or what you're going to do about it.  Nobody asks a little kid, "What do you like about baseball?  What do you imagine you will do as a baseball player?  What will you do to achieve that?"  Nobody asks a kid that, because that's a sure way to kill the dream.  And probably because a kid exudes so much confidence and passion when he tells you about how cool baseball is that you don't need any more convincing.  That's exactly what I want in a job. I want a job that needs no explanation.  I want a job that makes the birds chirp and the sun shine when I wake up on Monday morning - it just makes me happy and doesn't need any explaining.