This Is My Playground -now-

There's something so alive about going to work. The process of it.
And I am the anti-morning person.
just going through the motions alone
sleep rubbed out of eyes
contacts
teeth
shower
dog walked
-just a bit more sleep-
what the hell am I gonna wear today?
so personal, private, and alike.
I love exiting the subway and jaunting to the office.
ipod on, as expected, scoring the everyday
Nothing is more vibrantly cold than 53rd and Park on a weekday morning.
It's just like High School all over again. Perhaps more money, more independence and just a bit more wrinkles, but the drama is all the same. Everyone's dressed their best. Everyone's got something to prove.
If you stare hard enough I bet you'll even notice cliques.
Dare you to spot the popular crowd.
The misfit.
The whore.
The thing that makes this process so thrilling is the realization that life, as it turns out, is just one big circle. Not the forward sweeping motion that I'd feared. Not the "no-turning-back." It's all the same.
Backpacks to Briefcases.
Polos to Pinstripes.
Sweatpants to Suits.
We're all aging, that's for sure, every moment that we're alive. But who says anything's changed?
I'm excited that I get to go into work this week.
I'm excited that next week maybe my whole life will be different.
We're all working towards something.
I just want to stop every now and then, laugh at how much life is exactly as it should be, and make sure that the only thing that I'm working towards isn't death.

This morning I think I noticed my hairline receding.
possibly, maybe, perhaps, I dunno
If it happens I'll carry it off with the greatest of ease.
After all, there are more important issues at hand.
We've all got a chemistry quiz fourth period and I barely studied at all.