The past few days have been painfully divine.
I love learning. It’s one of the reasons I’ve gotten so far in my career. Learning is a job in itself. I’m not saying I retain everything I study, my father always taught me most humans are educated behind their intelligence.
Still, when you’re the youngest in a house of five kids like I was – you get good at finding ways to entertain yourself. I read a lot. And as I grew up I took every opportunity I came across to learn something.
Over the past two days, and for the next two, I’m at an eight-hour class that gives us exactly 70 minutes of breaks in 560 minute sessions.
I’ve taken 50 pages of notes so far.
Ever since I was a kid, I intuitively assumed I was going to be on my own. I still had the little girl princess, married, mother thing for a second.
Something in me knew it just wasn’t real. So when you mix that with the fact I grew up in a random ass town with like 10,000 people – opposed to my 1.6 million neighbors here on the great island of Manhattan…
I had to figure a way out somehow.
I’m proud of what I’ve achieved, and I know learning has been a big part of it. So hopefully what I’m learning now gets me on to the next one. I’ve already consumed enough information to give me electric shocks, I’m pretty stoked for the next two days.
I’ve changed the beginning of my book like three times in the past week. I’m a tremendous beginning/end person. Novels are nothing like, poetry books, for example – where there’s a whole new story on every page.
I also need to finish putting together poetry book four. Considering there are only 24 hours in a day, I reckon I manage to make pretty good use of them.
“She wanna go, go, go, go, go…”