When we’re young, when it comes to love, we have no reason not to feel hopeful, optimistic, and to see the sippy cup half-full.  It’s before petty arguments and passive aggressive texts.   It’s before we revel in the exquisite melancholy of unrequited love. It’s before all those Disney-infused high expectations are met with a startling reality of dating, being dateless, mixed messages, and the rest of the possible single-life conundrums.  Your high hopes are let down; your wall goes up.

It’s similar to that journey from the lecture hall to the board room.  You bust out of college into your first job with anticipation. Wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, you practically cartwheel into the office in your freshly-pressed suit, promising not be jaded like the overworked journalist who hangs up on you when you’re trying to follow up to see if she wants to come check out your client’s super cute event.

Not that I’ve been hung up on before.

This is before the exhaustion from the grind, before you’re drowning in details, before the reality of the “real world” sets in.  Sometimes, dreaming about being a grown-up is a hell of a lot more fun than being one.

I think that enthusiastic people are more successful.  They get pumped up, they show up, they try harder.  Sometimes, it’s a lot more appetizing to be a Debbie or a Nancy and gather around the water cooler and whine.  It’s harder to take a step back, take a look at the big picture, and take a stab at remembering how much/why you love what you do.

But like I said, enthusiastic people try harder.