"...and I'll taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake with me the memorieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees, to be my sunshine after the raiiiiaiaiaianaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaiaiainaiaiiaan."
Or something like that. (Who's the totally lost white dude in the background, by the way? Love the bowties! Okay, I'm hopping out of the parenthetical expression now...)
Today I left my first real Big Girl Job. It was an amicable, positive departure, spurred on by the fact that another organization recruited me for bigger, better things. Totes sweet, as my sister would say.
This is not to say that I'm without apprehension about such a big change. Three years in the same place...for people of my generation, that's a long time. My father, for example, has changed jobs exactly once in his life, and that was after 30 years with his first employer. And basically he went to a second place to do more or less what he was doing at the first. Twenty-somethings (I'm hanging on by a thread!), however, are restless and rootless and way more ready to pack up and go at a moment's notice. I'm taking off exactly one day in between jobs.
In the end, though, I wouldn't have it any other way. What would I do in between, sit around and brush up on current events? I think not. So on Monday, I walk into a new door, with new co-workers, sit at a new desk, with a new computer, and reinvent myself...again. It's thrilling and terrifying and fabulous and crazy and amazing all at once. I. Can't. Wait.