Two and a half years is enough time to make some incredible memories. I started off at Cape Town Magazine.com in September 2014. It wasn’t my first foray into the ‘working world’ but it was the start of building my career.

This ‘real job’ was in the midst of a tumultuous time in my life. I was settling into a new city, we were struggling to find a permanent place to live and I didn’t know when I was going to catch a break.

I walked into my interview holding thumbs that this was the position that would make my life a bit easier. It’s hard to break into the media industry. Harder when you don’t even know what you want to do. My make-it-in-the-big-city -or-else moment. I had just graduated a few months before but the post-grad panic arrives as soon as you get that piece of paper. How was I going to cope?

I remember my first day, even. I sat down at my blue desk, next to the other intern (who would become one of my closest friends) and felt somewhat hopeful for the first time in months.

Little did I know that this place would provide me with a lot more than just a great skill-set. In a few short months, my job and the people around it became a support system when I was Going Through The Most. I made some genuine friends in a city known for “you can’t sit with us” attitudes. University can make you feel like you know some stuff about the real world but in reality I knew nothing, niks and nada.

But eventually, after a couple months, it felt like I was fumbling less, learning more and becoming less unsure of my capacity to create content. I also realised that this was it. I couldn’t go back home to Port Elizabeth and like it or not, the 021 had to work for me. University was the period of time where I let loose and enjoyed being A Youth. My first job was finding out how adulthood it didn’t always feel like a good fit.

In two and a half years, I started off as an intern and ended off as a social media manager for a huge brand. I appeared on a TV show, got to feature on radio for a hot minute and had a photoshoot for a women’s magazine.

All of this was the kind of stuff I could only dream of growing up in my granny’s house. The dreams I had of when we made the trek to Cape Town.

The kind of things that don’t usually happen for a working class gal from Gelvan.

To another fresh start for a bae from the Bay (and some more memories).