You are who you are

My cousin Matty looked at this photo today and said "Mush, this is awful. You look fifteen. It looks like one of those Japanese .... (trails off) magazines!"

I didn't ask him what magazines he was referring to but I am taking the fifteen year old thing on board as a compliment. Please everyone tell me that I look fifteen and I will do my best to accentuate with graphic tees and coloured converses.

Which leads me to..

I interviewed a lady the other day (and I cannot believe I'm calling her a lady, but that's what she is.) She is just a few months older than me and she is just so poised and unlikely to spill coffee down her white top or sit on yoghurt on the bus (you know, I don't think she even takes buses). She doesn't eat muffins, she always wears heels (without slouching) and standing near her I kind of feel like Pig Pen trailing after a very clean Linus. I've had two meetings with her and each time I've felt like there's a tumbleweed of garbage following me.

 

But you know here's what I figure (other than if I don't see her for a long, long time I'll be really relieved): I am who I am, I wear scuffed shoes. My hair will never be 100% neat, I'm goofy, I make really bad puns, I sing to myself in public and that's fine. Reaching towards the looming 3-0 is about fundamental accepting who I am and if that means I'm not a person who can wear a pristine white blazer then so be it!

Which brings me to..

My mouse broke at work the other day so I had to run to Kmart and buy myself a new one. My choices were the navy blue, silver and hot pink. I picked up the hot pink and made my way back to the office.

When I got back, my boss turned around and said "What did you get?"
I showed her the mouse, she laughed and said "That's so you! It's such a mush mouse!"

And so it is what it is and you are who you are.