Diphuka Moleboge

22/04/2025

Nna lea mbora waitse

A video of Anele Mdoda's man getting emotional during their wedding has left Mzansi with more questions than answers. Clip in the comments.

Image: / X and Oupa Bopape/Gallo Images via Getty Images

22/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #15: Rebrand As Many Times As You Need

Of course, Easter weekend is a time to focus on the death and resurrection of Jesus. But there’s also a fundamental moment we sometimes overlook — one I was reminded of through a post that was circulating — and that's the quiet Saturday before Easter Sunday.
This moment, as Sarah Jakes Roberts describes it, represents preservation mode before mission mode.
It’s the space between the death of an old version of us and the rising of a new one.
It symbolizes resurrecting from failed dreams, projects, businesses — stepping back, recalibrating, and coming back with a new strategy.

In case the words from your pastor or reverend have already started melting away from your mind, I’m here to remind you:
Just as He has risen, you are also called to rise again — whether it’s your 2nd, 4th, or 9th time.
Lessss go!
No stone is too big for Him to roll away, and no shame is heavy enough to keep you down.

And in case future me ever needs this reminder too:
We have risen — from our mistakes, our shame, our failures — and we've been granted a new life.

Most importantly for today’s message:
You are allowed to rebrand as many times as you want.

Recently, I added a new facet to what I offer — expertise in the SDG space. I’ve been doing a course on understanding the SDGs, and it’s honestly become so fascinating to me. I'm starting to see connections to everything happening around us right now.
I'm still a student, but because I've learned so much, I'm choosing to lift as many people as I can with the knowledge I have.
We don't need to be perfect before we start. (Trust me, I've made that mistake way too many times.)

Oh, and small win moment:
I’m so proud of myself for this quick 20-minute design I whipped up on Canva!
If you know me, you know I hate designing anything — like, you actually couldn't pay me to make an artwork because of the stress it gives me 😭.

Bye for now — I’m off to post on LinkedIn!

21/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #14: There's a weird guy in my comment section

The other day, I wrote about how my partner encouraged me to shower and brush my teeth in the afternoon. It made me realize: maybe I should take it even further and write about him properly.

Much like in business, people only celebrate difficult things once they are successful. You get little to no support from friends and family when you’re in a long-distance relationship—until, somehow, you close the distance and get married. Then suddenly it becomes a beautiful success story that everyone wants to post on their Insta stories.

Of course, my Protestant self had to have an unconventional relationship.
Unconventional? Yes.
Beautiful? Absolutely.

I once had a boyfriend who bought me an iPhone to support my YouTube career, and I’ll always be sincerely grateful for that gesture. But there’s something different, something deeply touching, about a man who supports everything you do—by simply being there.
Commenting. Sharing every piece. Asking about your work. Encouraging you to write your reflections even when you’re inconsistent. Emailing brands you’ve mentioned just because he believes in your dreams.

Unconventional? Yes.
Beautiful? Absolutely.

When you’re a woman like me, raised in a single-parent household, you sometimes worry that love will elude you. It almost feels like a curse you have to outrun. When I was younger, I dreamed of marrying young. At the time, I thought it was just something normal to want.
But therapy taught me otherwise: that anxious dream was rooted in wanting to build a structure I never had—by fire or by force.

As a people, we fall into different categories:

-Those who love Musa and Liesl’s love story and gush over it.
-Those who think Musa is crazy for loving so loudly, shouting from rooftops that a man should never adore a woman that much.
-Those who claim he’s corny—yet secretly pine for a love like his.

I fall into the first group.
I know, right? Me? The Protestant?
I'm sure you figured that out from everything I wrote before.

I used to follow Musa and Liesl religiously, sharing their posts on my WhatsApp and Instagram stories regularly, secretly hoping one day I’d find someone who would love me as loudly.
Guess what? I did.
Guess what else? Sometimes, it overwhelms me, and I want to hide.

I had to sit with myself and ask:
Would you rather, Diphuka, have someone who ignores your passions and throws around “I support you” loosely?
Or would you rather have someone who stands in the front row with the brightest, biggest foam finger, cheering you on?

After that conversation with myself about the shame I momentarily felt—and almost projected onto him—I decided.
I choose the foam finger.
And I’m getting my own too, so I can show up to all his games just as loudly.

They say, “You can’t get everything you ask for.”
But they also say, “If you do get what you asked for, don’t be foolish and ruin it.”

The truth is, it doesn’t have to make sense to other people.
It just has to make sense to the two people involved.

So, to the weird guy in my comments (yes, the one some of you have tried to look up):
Thank you.
I love you. ###

19/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #13: LABELS LABELS LABELS

lABELS, I have never liked them. I’ve never wanted to be boxed into anything. I go to UCCSA, in case you don’t know, that's a Protestant church and without realizing it, my whole personality kind of became protestant. Always protesting against any and every label.
I don’t want to have a niche.
I don’t want a boring job.
I’m not a slay queen.

Doctors have said that human beings today rely heavily on labels to define their entire life experience — and that can be dangerous. The label I hated most? The whole introvert vs extrovert thing.
So when they came up with a new one, “ambivert,” someone who has traits of both and I kind of rocked with it.

You see, people often describe me as someone who loves people —very social, very bubbly. But I’ve always felt like there’s a cap to it. I love spending time alone. I like shopping alone, eating out alone, spending an entire weekend, ALONE binging different movies.

But something my therapist once said to me shifted my perspective completely:
"What if you don’t actually love doing everything alone? What if you just got used to it because growing up, you had little to no help, so you learned to cope by doing everything yourself?"

When she said that, I broke down. It was one of the first times she really got me to cry.

I have a very haphazard way of doing things, in Setswana we say, "ke tshwara ke lesa."
Not once, not twice, but multiple times, people have suggested that I may have ADHD. (You know how people love to self-diagnose then they'll throw some your way too.)

While chatting recently with a childhood friend who has a degree in Early Childhood Development, she said something that stayed with me:
"Honestly, a lot of our generation shows symptoms of ADHD — it comes from growing up around the same time as our parents were figuring themselves out too."

Years ago, a therapist had done a short psychometric test and suggested that I didn't have full-blown ADHD, but may show some symptoms.
Last year, I saw a psychiatrist who was quick to shut it down. He said ADHD is a personality disorder, which I do not have. Instead, he suggested I might have more of an anxiety disorder.
I could tell he was annoyed — probably tired of the surge of people walking into his office trying to self-diagnose with every trending label. Honestly, working in that field must be equal parts fascinating and frustrating these days.

Anyway, I couldn’t wait to seek a third opinion, so I bought this book online about ADHD.
It’s a really quick read, and the tips have helped me immensely.
I highly recommend it to anyone who feels like they may have ADHD or ADHD symptoms.

I think one of the biggest mistakes I made was convincing myself that I loved being alone.
Because I grew up feeling alone, I thought isolation was my natural state.
So I crafted a life where I spent 80% of my time alone, I even ensured that I lived alone.
At first, it felt empowering.
But over time, it became something else.

I was watching House today, and his doctors said something to him that stuck with me:
"Isolation breeds depression."

This year, isolation made me the saddest, most unproductive version of myself.
Today, my partner literally had to stay on the phone with me after noon, gently asking me to please brush my teeth and wash my face — and he refused to hang up until I did it.
He honestly saved my day with that.

When I was still partying and drinking, even though I'd deal with the usual "hangxiety," I think it was actually the happiest I'd ever been. I was around people. I had community.
Though this past year has been transformative, it has also been the loneliest I’ve ever felt.

With my new, quieter lifestyle, I recognize that I don't even know how to ask people to hang out anymore.
Especially when I'm broke. I don't know how to just say, "Hey, can I come over and chill?" Even reaching out like that gives me anxiety.

Jesus — when he went into the wilderness — didn’t stay there forever.
He spent 40 days in isolation to reconnect spiritually, and then he returned. He came back to the people.

Christianity will never teach you to abandon everyone and spend your entire life in seclusion because the world is "evil."
(And honestly, that kind of thinking is more arrogance than humility.)
Real humility is allowing yourself to love and be loved — to tear down the walls you've built, even the ones that once kept you safe.

Community is important.
Congregationalism is important.
Spiritual growth is important.
And yes — they’re all meant to work together.

I think transformation comes in phases, and hopefully after this reflection, I’ll start doing what needs to be done so I don’t end up truly depressed.
Because at the end of the day, sadness wasn’t some mysterious force.
It was just loneliness.
And missing my people.

17/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #12: Should this relationship be managed or ditched forever?

A few months ago, an Instagram story shared by popular influencer Jaxx Amanhle from South Africa made its way to WhatsApp statuses and Insta stories, even among my age mates here in Botswana. Jaxx, who's in her early 30s, spoke about how she did a cost vs benefit analysis and finally decided to ditch booze — not the monetary cost, but how it was costing her physically and mentally.

She went on to talk about how, all of a sudden, when you ditch booze, everyone has something to say.
We escaped peer pressure in our teenage years, only to now, as 30-year-olds, be pressured into taking shots at a brand event because people don’t get why you don’t drink. People feel like it’s somehow ruining the fun, and they want to feel like they’ve achieved something by getting you to take down some poison. And you should see how proud they look when they manage to convert someone — and how defeated they seem when you stand firm in your, “No, I’m fine.”
All of a sudden, things get awkward...

I know a few people don’t text me anymore or ask what I’m up to — not because I made any bold claims about not drinking or against alcohol. I guess they’ve been able to fill in the gaps after seeing how I now spend my time and what I post. Or maybe it's simply because I don’t text them anymore asking what the move is tonight.

People usually advocate for quitting alcohol by citing how much money they've managed to save after doing it. I don’t think I’ve saved any more than I was drinking, because I’ve just replaced a vice with a vice — which, in my opinion, is normal.
My money these days has been spent on ice cream, chocolate, cake, Hungry Lion, etc., to name a few.
I also have my own passion fruit cordial at home, and I’ve discovered that I prefer passion fruit x Sprite.
What I am grateful for is that I’m no longer forcing this thing — that my body was starting to reject in every form — to work for me.
If you know me, you know I used to drink Black Label... I moved from Black Label, to Castle Lite, to Corona, to Gordon’s Gin, to Chateau, to Sparkling Wine, to Brutal Fruit Litchi, with the occasional tequila shots... I went from acid reflux to a running stomach, until at the beginning of this year, I decided to see what would happen if I quit alcohol for a year.
It’s only been 4 months in, and I don’t have much to report — especially because this isn’t my first rodeo. I spent my birthday last year completely sober with my friends. We went out to Rhapsodys (which wasn’t all that great), then the next day we went out to eat, and then went to the Arsenal Club House, and honestly, that was one of my best birthdays.

Let me tell you the truth: a lot of the times before, I quit alcohol because of a mixture of shame, regret, and the promise to be a better person.
I want to be honest and say the decision this time was also influenced by the aforementioned reasons — including a promise to God, and a curiosity to see how the year would turn out, and how far our adventures could go and be enjoyed in the absence of alcohol.

I went to a mixer recently and told a High Commissioner that I felt like alcohol had destroyed my brain.
I have an inkling that I would be much farther along in life had I not begun this relationship with alcohol... but the question is, would I be as wise?
I think my wisdom comes from the varying plots and experiences I’ve lived through, therefore I’d never wish for a different past.

In a book I read a few years ago — I think it was the second time I took an extended break from indulging — the author spoke about how alcohol is like a toxic relationship that almost always rejects us, but we are determined to find a way to manage.
I’ve found myself saying:
"This will work if I just eat first..."
"This will work if I eat in between..."
"This will work if I drink water in between..." (I even carried a bottle of water in my car, always.)
"This will work if I don’t mix different substances..."
And she asked: what if we just stopped trying to manage it?

16/04/2025

Kana le lebala ka bonako

15/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #11: Time Stands Still

“Time Stands Still” used to be one of my favorite songs by Sabrina Claudio. And lately, that line feels more real than ever.
In a new phase of your life, it sometimes feels like time actually stands still. You feel stuck. Frustrated at work. Burnt out as the year crawls to an end. The days drag—and time stands still.

But then, time does what it always does. It plays its tricks. Suddenly, it flies.
You're having the time of your life, around people who make you feel alive—and just like that, what felt like seven days is down to one. You find yourself savoring every moment, holding onto it, maybe even changing your phone wallpaper just to keep a piece of it with you.

Lately, I’ve realized I don’t have all the answers like I once thought I did.
I used to believe that to be a content creator, I needed to shoot fresh footage every day, document every moment perfectly, be constantly "on." But I’ve since learned that the stories we tell don’t have to be in real-time to be meaningful. That museum visit from months ago? Still relevant. Still powerful. Especially when told with the right voiceover, music, or mood.

Another thing I’ve had to unlearn is the pressure to make everything “matter.” I used to discard content ideas because I thought, “Everyone knows this already.” But what's common to me, might be completely new to someone else. The world of content creation can get so technical, so intimidating, and I’ve found myself stuck in this cycle: try, fail, retreat. Try again, fail, retreat.

If content creation were my core business, I probably would’ve “gone broke” by now. But maybe that’s the thing—maybe if it was my main focus, I would’ve been more intentional. Maybe I let it fall to the side because I was juggling so much else, and it was easier to abandon the one thing I loved than face how much I was struggling to figure it out.

Now here’s the plot twist of 28:
You finally feel at peace with who you are. You know what you love. What you hate. What you will not settle for. But that’s where life turns. Because now you have to tear it all down and rebuild—to match the truest version of yourself.
So instead of fully enjoying this new phase, you find yourself grieving. Mourning who you used to be. Letting go. Breaking down before you break through.

Tonight’s reflection is more of a rant. But it’s one I know I’ll look back on in a year and smile—because this is what becoming looks like.

13/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #10: One time, I went astray, I hope it never happens again..

One of my favorite songs is by Musiq Soulchild, and it’s called Love. One of the lines in the chorus goes:
“Loooove, those who have faith in you, sometimes go astray…”

Let’s talk about the popular phenomenon of a n***a having you ALL the way f*cked up.
As Musiq Soulchild puts it, love will have you going astray. Love will have you forgetting all the manners your parents taught you, love will have you ignoring logic, and sometimes even defying the laws of gravity. Love will definitely have you all the way f’d up—and I hope you read that in your African American auntie accent.

So, a while ago, an old friend told me that one of my exes was out here telling people I was obsessed with him.
Now, I’m not addressing anything directly. This is just reflection time—me talking about me.

I was ANGRY. Like Tina-in-the-limo angry.
And you know when you really can’t confront anyone because you heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend? So now you just have to sit with yourself, ruminating.
I must’ve heard this in early January, and I remember—I went back to the gym that month. And while I was there, I finally understood what Khloe meant when she created Revenge Body, because 'ke tlo ba bontsha' was my daily gym motivation.
I was SOOO angry!

Fast forward a few years later…
God placed it on my heart that I never fully healed from that person. So I sat with myself and reflected on the whole situation.

Ooooh wait—I didn’t tell y’all the full story.
There may have been an incident at an event where I saw said ex with someone I know, and I may have said something… gave them a stare-down… but that was all.
Anyway, I guess that’s what contributed to the whole “she’s obsessed with me” narrative.
That—and let me teach y’all something real quick:

There’s a concept called intimate idealization, where you and a person break up, but after some time—maybe a month or two or more—you start to exaggerate the good parts of the relationship and almost forget the bad. This usually leads to those infamous on-and-off relationships.

That’s exactly what happened to me.
We kept getting back together. Or I’d keep reaching out, wanting to get back with him.
Until that incident happened—and the two of them (him and the girl I knew) went around saying I was obsessed.

Anyway, as I was saying—late last year, I sat down and asked myself:
“Did I really have no part to play in that?”

And I had to be real with myself:
“You do know there’s always a little bit of truth in everything…”

Maybe that night, I did come off kind of obsessed.

What they said wasn’t nice—and it wasn’t true in full—but my behavior was kind of weird.
My feelings for that person led me astray.

I never thought I’d be one of those women with a “n***a story,” because I don’t even be fighting or nothing… lol.
But it happens to more of us than we think.

It’s unfortunate. It’s embarrassing.
People will use it to try and convince others that you’re not as great as they thought.
But after being honest about your own contribution to the mess—you have to forgive yourself.

12/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #9: Not Everything, But Enough

This was supposed to be a 28-day countdown leading up to my 28th birthday on the 27th of April, with the final post going up on the 28th—just to make turning 28 symbolic. But because I’ve been all over the place this week, I missed posting for two days. And of course, I’ve been beating myself up. Asking myself, “For real, Diphuka? You’re just unable to be consistent with anything?”

If you know me, I’m a YouTube creator turned Instagram and TikTok creator, and that has since gone... nowhere. I mean come on—if I’m busy, I could just write the posts beforehand and schedule them. But I have this weird thing where I want to share the words with you as I feel them. That’s why some of the posts have been going up at 11 PM... that, and I was racing against time lol.

One of my mantras this year that has helped me a lot is: “Done is better than perfect.” So I’m working on getting over this weird way I want to do things, and just focusing on getting them done.

Anyway, onto today’s reflection.

In 2023, my therapist once said to me, “Sometimes people move away from the nest, and when they come back, they realize just how much they have in common with their siblings or family. Before, they were just stuck in a small space with shared or individual traumas clashing.”

That same year, I moved out because my mom and I’s relationship had reached an unbearable point. I was going out every weekend just to avoid her. I resented both her and my sibling. I was convinced that the only way to save our relationship—and for me to be fully happy and comfortable—was to move out.

By some stroke of luck, I found a housemate who was literally just looking for someone with a bed, non-stick pots, and who could split groceries. That was me.

A few months after I moved out, I went back to my therapist, and that’s when he said those words. Within a month—maybe even less—my relationship with both my mom and brother transformed. I wondered if it’s just because they missed me or something.

Fast forward to 2025—it was a random Wednesday. My boss walked out of her office and told us all to go home. Heavy rains and floods were making their way in, and things were looking intense. As I slowly made my way through the chaos and traffic, phone battery low, anxiety high (because I hate driving in these conditions), my brother called me—not once, not twice, but three times.

On the third call, he convinced me to turn back. “Are you really trying to drive to Tlokweng in this?” he said. He told me to come home instead. And I listened.
That night, I ended up sleeping over. I didn’t have a bed there anymore since I’d taken it when I moved, so I slept with my mom. When she came home later, she told me to take a bath to warm up. She even pulled out a moisturizing Sanex and told me I could use it.

For context—anyone who follows me knows I only use Sanex. Zero, to be exact. And although she didn’t have that one, she offered me what she had. So her daughter could warm up and feel taken care of after a stressful day.
We stayed up talking and laughing until almost 2 AM—even though she had to wake up at 6 to be at work by 7:30.

By insisting that I come home that day, my brother had no idea what that small gesture did for me.

I’ve always been aware of my mother’s parenting style, and for a long time, it frustrated me. But recently, we had a candid conversation on WhatsApp. She confirmed what I had always known—but hearing it from her hit differently.

She explained that because of how she was raised, she struggles to give hugs and kisses. (To be fair, she did hug and kiss me before work trips.) She says “I love you” now more than ever since I moved out. But she still finds it hard to say comforting things when I’m sad or grieving.

This conversation came after the funeral of my estranged dad’s sister. I’d been mad at her for days for not comforting me, and eventually, I told her how I felt.
She said she’s never been able to give me everything I emotionally needed—but she promised herself that she would always provide for us. Anything and everything we needed—or at least, almost everything.

And I still envy my friends whose families rally around them emotionally when they’re low. I still wish I had that.

A friend of mine, Larona, once told me, “Diphuka, you’re too emotional. Nna tota ke tsaya batho jaaka ba ntse.” I think I’ve been applying that more lately, even with my family.

I have a mother who indulges me when she can, who encourages me to bath when it’s cold, and who offers me the closest thing to my favorite body wash.

And that matters too.

Pictured here with my two twins after church.

09/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #8: Friendship, what a beautiful concept

So many elements of your upbringing influence how you relate with people. As a woman who grew up with an absent father, I used to think daddy issues were the only ‘master’ shaping my relationships. But as I’ve explored deeper parts of myself, I’ve realised that many layers of childhood experience shape how we love, how we hold people, and how we show up.

Did you know that if your father left without a word and you never heard from him again, that act — as heartbreaking as it is — can teach your nervous system that it’s normal for people to leave without warning? Did you know that if you weren’t hugged or comforted as a child, you might withdraw into a shell when life gets hard? It’s called self-soothing, and while it has its place, healing also requires the bravery to be vulnerable, to reach out, to say I need someone right now.

I’ve been a sucky friend before. Not once, not twice — a few too many times. Often, I only realised it when the damage had already been done. But I’m learning, and I will make amends. Right now, I want to take a moment to celebrate two women who have shown up for me.

Navigating a new season — especially a walk with God — is no small feat. Some friendships fall away. For me, it’s made space for Z and Shazzz, two sisters in Christ who have stood by me the past few months. I’ve outgrown a lot of old things, and it brings me so much joy to have people I can grow with.

On the top is Shazzz and I at the Tebogo Moloi concert this weekend. At the bottom is Z and I, 13 years ago, the day she helped me open my first Facebook profile… after my mum specifically told me not to. Lol.

I really didn't expect for us all to be here, together.. but that's a reflection for another day.. for now, I'll just be grateful.

08/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #7: There are facts, and then there's what's true

Last night I watched a movie called The Life List. Lately, those Netflix Original movies have not been great at all, and although I have a strict no-Netflix-during-the-week rule, I decided to just switch off my mind and indulge, especially because I was PMSing, hard.

That movie was so good. It had quite a few themes I related to, but the one I want to talk about in particular is around closure. Spoiler loading – do not read if you’re planning on watching the movie and hate spoilers.

After her mum died, Alex, who had always had a difficult relationship with her dad, had dinner with him to reconcile – only for the dinner to end with her dad telling her that he wasn’t actually her real father. Her mum had cheated, gotten pregnant, broken up with the guy, and then decided to raise Alex with her husband alongside her siblings.

Alex, who had felt rejected by her dad for years, suddenly began to make sense of things. She hired a private detective to search for her biological father, hoping that she’d reach out to him, they’d click, and she could, I guess, kick the other dad to the curb.

They eventually met. The man told Alex that he once visited them and saw her run outside to hug her dad, and in that moment, he knew she was okay. He felt it wasn’t necessary for him to be in her life. Given his career and lifestyle, he knew he couldn’t give her what she needed.

She tried to argue, saying that she and her dad weren’t even close. But he ended the conversation by saying, “There is the truth, and there are facts.”

When I thought about it afterwards, I’d like to believe he was trying to say that, beyond how much her frustration was twisting her view, the truth was that her dad – the man who raised her – had always been there. Although the facts say the biological man is her father, the truth is someone else showed up for her.

My aunt from my paternal side recently passed away. We hadn’t been close since before I even hit puberty. For reasons only she knew, she became a stranger to me, just like my biological father.

A few years ago, I tried to reach out to him. And without giving away too much, the once hopeful young woman I was had to eventually make peace with the fact that, he is only my biological father. I remember one day, my mum walked into the kitchen while I was cooking, and heard me playing and singing along to a Lauryn Hill playlist. With a look of surprise, she said, “Your father really liked Lauryn Hill. This must be biology.”

The facts are, yes, biology says he’s my father. But the truth is, I have never experienced him as one. I do not have to attach that role to him. I do not have to force that identity on him, or expect him to become something he never was, and cannot be for me.

I’m grateful that I was able to discern quite quickly, after one or two attempts, that he could not be what I needed him to be. And I did not allow him to further break the heart of the little girl in me.

“I’ve said all I needed to say” is often a line people use before they walk out of someone’s life. And sometimes, all the closure you need is someone saying all they needed to say.

07/04/2025

28 Reflections of a 28-year-old ̶g̶i̶r̶l̶ woman
Post #6: Is procrastination is the thief of joy?

I’m a chronic procrastinator. I will procrastinate almost any given task.

Some years ago, I read in How to Be a Badass that creative thinkers are often procrastinators because they’re spending time collecting information. The author posed a question that’s always stuck with me:

Would you rather enjoy a week on the beach, sipping your favorite cocktail, knowing that you’ll get to the assignment on the day as you usually do, and it’ll still get done well?

Or would you rather spend the entire week making yourself miserable and still end up doing the assignment at the very last minute?

Lately, I’ve been choosing to take my almost 30-year-old ass to the beach.