Arrested development
Preparing for this new eight-to-five desk job feels like wearing a culturally outdated (ergo unfunny) and ill-fitting Halloween costume. The mandatory Woe, I have betrayed my anti-corporate lib-arts roots! diatribe has already been unleashed upon several unfortunate friends, and this note—the first string of words scrawled on the creamy, elegant pages of my Big Girl planner—is a reminder of how poorly prepared I am for this “growing up” thing (or whatever this inconvenient affliction is):
* Important: assemble emergency zombie apocalypse stash
