One of Those People
My whole life, I was just an ordinary person. I was the chic at the airport with the backpack or the simple carry-on. Even when I had my old laptop traveling with me, it was in a no nondescript backpack holding lots of other things. My bag and I were just ordinary.
As negotiations of future business trips are arising, I have realized how much things have changed in the past few years. I have foreseen myself telling a TSA agent that my backpack and the contents in it are worth more than his monthly salary. (Okay, so maybe my aggression hasn't changed so much.) But I don't know a single person who would describe me as nondescript. In fact, most of my friends say that's one of the things they love about me. But fifteen years ago, I was just the girl next door.
It's no secret that I've been longing to get back to my roots a bit lately. Yet there are parts of those roots I wish to stay buried. For instance, the girl next door part. I don't like her. I like being some odd combo of a Martha Stewart, rocker, and Zen mom. The question is, how will the new me fit into my old life?
As negotiations of future business trips are arising, I have realized how much things have changed in the past few years. I have foreseen myself telling a TSA agent that my backpack and the contents in it are worth more than his monthly salary. (Okay, so maybe my aggression hasn't changed so much.) But I don't know a single person who would describe me as nondescript. In fact, most of my friends say that's one of the things they love about me. But fifteen years ago, I was just the girl next door.
It's no secret that I've been longing to get back to my roots a bit lately. Yet there are parts of those roots I wish to stay buried. For instance, the girl next door part. I don't like her. I like being some odd combo of a Martha Stewart, rocker, and Zen mom. The question is, how will the new me fit into my old life?
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