Twenty-Three and Beyond

When you’re twenty-three, you think you can keep up this level of performance forever. – Survivor, Chuck Palahniuk

It’s funny how a week or so ago, Ms. B and I were talking about missing being 23. I am not sure if there’s something magical about the number, but I’ve heard a couple of songs about being 23. Does it carry a divine significance? Is it the point in our lives that we truly define who we are? Or maybe not exactly who we are, because there are people who are 50 and still have the slightest idea on the who of their being. Maybe being 23 means you begin to incline on a certain direction towards principles and values that you choose to possess, no matter how roughly done they are at the time, that you start polishing as you get older. I don’t know. These are all just my two cents.

So, I survived the first week of a, let’s just say, self-improvement program. I didn’t think I’d learn a lot. I didn’t think I needed to be there in the first place, but I guess I did.

Attending the class was an effective ego-booster, too, especially for someone who is starting to get disheartened by that fact that, after a month and a half of job search, nothing has materialized. It feels good to feel good about yourself. It feels great to remember of how smart you really are, especially when the people around you start making you doubt it.

Eleanor Roosevelt said, Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent. I know this. And I don’t allow anyone to make me think less of myself. But sometimes, that makes people assume it’s lack of humility.

If I were younger, I would be lashing out to people who had this perception of me and trying to convince them that they are wrong. I learned to choose my battles. There are fights that you simply cannot win…or at least, not with a sword.

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I don’t know, but I feel like concluding this post with this:

No Arms, No Legs, No Worries.

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For Technorati

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