Workaholic Vibes.

On the heels of turning 40, I recently had an epiphany as I stepped into an elevator a few days ago.

'Goddamn it, I want everything!" I exclaimed. Granted, there was no one in the elevator but me, however that was all that I needed... I put it out into the universe... I owned it... and seriously, I want it all.

As I currently sit, getting lost in a combination of the sound of turquoise nails gently tap dancing on the keyboard, whilst sipping on a Monster mocha, and occasionally falling into a trance from glancing over to the plume of incense smoke as it dances through the air, I realize as I inch closer to 40, workaholic vibes are starting to seep in, and I literally want to leave no stone unturned, which I find exhilarating, and damn awesome.

Coming from a life where, (and I'll be honest here,) I've been quite spoiled, I spent the better part of my twenties and thirties breezing through on looks and just enough. What's just enough, you ask?

Just enough to, after leaving my parents house, means just enough to:

Get what I want.

Pay the bills.

Cover the bases.

Get me to and from where I need to go.

Appear accurate and complete.

Well, fuck that.

As forty nears, I want it all. All that I've wanted, but once I left home, I lazily and half heartedly chose to obtain in snippets, small portions, and 50% capacity.