It's been about a week since my first official day of freedom. You know, that thing, freedom, just another word for nothing left to lose.
I'm actually on no-pay leave from work for awhile, making preparation for what could possibly be the best thing to happen to me in a long time. It's exhilarating, the possibilities. I wake up in the morning filled with purpose and love. I spend my days reading eagerly, absorbing information that is, for once, not being shoved down my throat.
There was a day, a couple of months ago, when I was pounding the pavement, knocking on doors as a good journalist does. It was getting increasingly hard. The night was hot and people were being abhorrent. They slammed doors in my face as if I was selling something or rudely yelled from within that "I don't know. I don't know anything.".
I pushed on, but when one girl insisted on conducting a conversation with me entirely through shouting from her kitchen, my knees knocked with exhaustion.
I don't mind the long hours. I don't mind searching for things for days. But it's hard to be made to feel invisible and unwanted. To be hung up on and derided, snapped at and ignored, when all you really want is a polite decline or a kind word. Dianah said to me in my first week that journalists are treated like dogs.
And I am so ready to be a student, to celebrate my freedom, and to feel human again.
This is a photo an hour from the first day of freedom last week, which comprised buying books from Borders, stuffing my face with a cheese board from Jones the Grocer, lots of window shopping and quality relaxation.
I finished my Agatha Christie novel. I'm getting a lot better at reading them than I used to be, I can now guess whodunit about half the time. My mom claims she can guess every single time, but of course, she only "reveals" her guesses when she's done reading the whole thing.
I am an Agatha Christie JUNKIE. I love almost everything except boring Tommy and Tuppence Beresford. Nemesis is my Miss Marple favourite, and I love almost all the Poirots.
Picking my accessories before leaving the house.
Picking out books from my possible reading list.
We had dinner at Marche, after which Dhany practiced sketching demented animals of some sort. I'm a salad freak and I love that in Marche you just pay for the plate and then pile on a whacking great assortment of greens and potatoes and eggplant. Just thinking about it is making my mouth water.
Started on my new book. It was so creepy, I slept with the lights on for two nights.
Photos of my outfit that day to come.