22-year-old Early Depression Syndrome

I just found out earlier from work that if we won't have advertisers, the magazine won't push through anymore. It was a fair decision, but I am kind of worried a bit for the entire work that I did.

Yes, I was paid. Yes, we all did our share of work. But I figured I pulled out more work than others. Not that I was exploited or anything. I liked what I do. I liked the people around me, ahmm, except for one and that's a given - a black sheep of the flock that has an Estee Lauder Kikay kit and often goes to the SPA with nails not so obviously manicured (literally!). Not strange enough? Try squeezing the word MAN in that description. Not a pretty good site. It makes you want to puke, trust me. I get to work with him five days a week. EW!

On with my sharing.

This was the one thing that I enjoyed doing the most. And it's going to be taken away from me, soon. So I am assuming that this is what they call the maturity leverage for twenty-something yuppies. But no regrets though. Just a little depression that will pass not because I am losing my job. In fact, I was offered a different kind of work by my boss, which was not bad. But it just wasn't my cup of tea, so I had to decline. It has something to do with their printing business, an account executive for the services they offer in offset printing. I am good at the creative department, not in sales. I am not bad in sales though, but I don't enjoy doing it as much as what I had done in the publishing business.

If only there were more people involved in this magazine, more people for distribution of workload and specialization in a specific field, we could have gotten a couple of advertisers and it could have gone off smoothly. But we have to make do of what we have, the end doesn't justify the means. Whatever that meant, I am sure it's well suited for this situation.

I'll survive. I'll live. I'll move on, that's for sure.