My mom came to San Francisco to hang out with me for the weekend, so on Monday morning before her flight back to Chicago she stopped by my office building to admire the views.
I've shed more tears about career-related topics than I ever have over any boy (as a co-worker and I decided today - I'm a Miranda, not a Carrie). I called my mom during my first week of college crying about how I was already behind in building a competitive resume, and the frequency and potency of panic attacks only increased from there.
But, every day when I walk into my fancy office building I kind of feel like the coach at the end of the NBA finals who gets the cooler of Gatorade dumped on him. The satisfaction from working really hard and eventually getting what you want feels so, so good.