Dear Ngoc!

Hello myself!

I have a very soft spot on me. The spot right in the middle of my chest, beneath my collarbone. 

I did the thing where I put my hand to my chest and felt my own heart beat again. I did it twice today. And when I felt my own heart beat for its own life, I grinned so big. I didn't care if I was rained on as I took my time walking to my car. Just, thankful that I made it to the end of the day. Thankful that I did a really good job, and how great that feeling is, when I know it so well deep down that yes, of course. Of course, I did a great job. I replayed what my supervisors said inside my head again, and then I smiled all over again.

Here she is. Your words of affirmation girlie.

Lately, I take my time.

I take my time walking around the block during lunch, with my hands bouncing against my hips and a permanent slight smile on me. Like I'm listening to that song I really like, because I am, fool. I take my time talking to my colleagues, who are all growing on me. I think, wait, I know, that I'm liked. I know it's a silly small thing to realize, but it means so much to me. That my company is enjoyed. That I make people laugh. It means a lot. So I always take my time with them.

I take my time making the drink in my hand last. Bridget's story makes the drink feel lighter. Is it just me, or are the lights making me feel all pretty? All cozy...? A town so small that you're bound to meet 3 of your coworkers in it, so I take my time leaving the bar. Bridget leads the way to a seedy dance floor in a seedy bar. No one but us in it. 

It's a Friday night in Marietta. I didn't expect that.

But we danced anyways. 9 PM became 11 PM. The alcohol in my system diluted, and with my mind as sober as ever, I danced harder. Running around as if my ankles are fine. And so did Bridget haha. I felt like the young miss I always was. ^-^

I take my time getting back to my car, careful not to forget the ledge out the door.

"Do you need me to walk you back to your car?" she asked. 

I shook my head sleepily and happily. "Thank you but I'm okie hehe. Tonight was great! I'll see you in Columbus. Thanksgiving!!!"

And there ya go. That's how a girl's trip is made. On a Friday night outside a seedy bar on a street in a small town where there's no body but two girls who just sober danced an empty dance floor.

I take my time driving back to my apartment. They've wrapped lights and leaves around each light post. 

If I was actually tipsy, you could convince me I was in London. Gosh, London. That's a whole other story. I've already told that one lol.

Beyond my social outings and the significant reduction in shopping because I do not want to live pay check to pay check T___T, I feel like a sponge lately. A TOTAL SPONGE. 

Risk management. Oh my god. 

I like it a lot.

I like a LOT.

I really enjoy working with customers but I was always in reacting mode.

I want to be in initiating mode now. My mid-20s are gonna be for initiating MODE :D And the team -- I think they really like me. :)

And I'm thinking about further education funded by my employer. It's very possible and your girl might have a trick up her sleeve sooner or later. ^-^ Life is too short! Life is too short.

And life is too short not to be in three-way calls as many nights as I should be. Ivanna and Yen are both doing their make-up, all cute and dainty, while I update them about our future Columbus weekend trip. Thanksgiving is gonna be very sweet. My supervisor invited me to her Thanksgiving. <3 Oh my gosh, I feel so hugged. WAH!

Not everything is wonderful. Not everything is sweet.

But when things are sweet, they really are sweet. Just gooey caramel on my skin. Sticky condensed milk left on the edge of my cup. As I scheme. And scheme myself into my new life here. One day, I'll be a local. One day, I'd have walked these hills and under these trees enough times that someone recognizes my silhouette and chases after me.

In a good way? :D

Elise will tell you that I'm good at scheming. Ivanna will tell you that I'm good at finding a good hotel within budget. Yen will tell you that I know how to talk to boys. Mom will tell you I'm bad at not eating enough citrus.

You know what's crazy?

I sat right next to someone who was sneezing and coughing Covid like crazy for an hour. I washed my hands really good after that. And every morning for a week, I drank orange juice.

3 weeks later. And that worked?

So Mom's right. ^--^ I can never drink too much citrus.

I'm 24. I'm living on my own. I'm a good bean doing better beans than I imagined. And people remember me. And that feels really warm. Really gentle.

Like tonight, as I returned the can opener I borrowed from my neighbor's sister, Austin. She remembered I played League. She took a sip of my Viet coffee that I sent it along with and smiled. She gripped my three snack bars in my hands along with my hope that she'll more than enjoy it. That she'd love it. Or seeing the way my colleagues at the Thanksgiving potluck today enjoying my Vietnamese coffee. It just makes me feel... <3

This little letter to myself is me hoping that I'll always remember the good things.

Because good things do happen to me. And because I deserve them all.

And I deserve all the quiet in my head, after the day is over. I deserve all my reading time. My calling and walking time. My time in my new favorite blue sweater. All my time talking with my new friend. And all my time re-reading old diary entries while I realize how long this journey has really been.

This long journey of designing and creating my life from scratch. All those years ago. Just as I am, today.