Last Day

Today is my last day at this job. I didn't get a party. I was supposed to get a card, but nobody knows where it is. I didn't get any gifts (except earlier in the week from my mentor). My jerk of a co-worker who left this summer got a send off from the Dean with gifts. I got ice cream.

Oh well. I'm out of here. I don't like these people, but I would have liked one of those insulted lunchbags with our logo on them. I need one of those. They're useful.

My mentor did take me out to lunch for a yummy portebella sandwich. On the way back he said that one day I'd just magically know what my life was all about. I laughed. Maybe someday, I said. And I thought, "magically" really? It'll just hit me? And what if I don't want it to. Why do I want to be figured out and niched and settled? Yeah the obsessive, scared, anxiety ridden me would be gone and I'd 'get it,' but where's the fun in that? What's the point of figuring it out? I want that epiphany to occur when I breathe out on my death bed. I just want to go, "Oh, so that was it" and expire. No time to think, 'shit I did it wrong' or 'good for me,' just a recognition and nothing. Otherwise what would I be striving for?