I just decided to up and move from a (work) place I’ve been most comfortable in a while. It was a sudden decision aimed at shaking things up. Getting too cosy at one place makes one less ambitious, less adventurous and so on. I would have loved to stay on here, surrounded by some of the best friends I have made only in two years, in my small pretty office corner complete with postcards, pictures, and other warmfuzzy things. But sigh, someone warned me to not get too lazy and smug, to move my butt out into a world of bigger fishes while there’s still time. Now I’m a puny fish in a gigantic pond. It saddens me a little to acknowledge that I have felt the need to move out of my city and home to explore supposedly ”bigger” opportunities.

Anyway, I miss my office – my first ever – such a detour from my life’s initial plans. I stumbled across some loving absolutely mad-hatter crazy people and some very grounded, confident, and very-different-from-first-impression sorts. And now I am in a good place, all the negativity has been shaken off. Albeit everything works out for the best and all that jazz. Moving is important, the same place makes you mentally static and thwarts positive feelings. Because spaces are always essentially associated with memories and people. Here, the places I pass by now, in the next week or in the next year will be associated with fresh new memories that I will create and it’s entirely up to me what I want to create. Good, sloppy, medium rare…memory making is sort of like cooking it seems.

I have been wanting to arrive at this mental space for a while now – this complete lack of procrastination, guilt overdrive, extreme inadequacy, and the incessant need to look back. And I don’t want to jinx it by talking too much about it, but I’m going to cherish it while it lasts like a piece of glazed donut, in small happy bites.


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