Journal entry (no date):
First semester PhD in English literature is over, plum-consarnit. I have nothing to do for 5 weeks besides think about my own thoughts, feelings, insights, etc. I can go Christmas shopping, I can send out my stories and think about this or that. I have a reading list to work on for next semester, but do I have to worry about it right now? Not really, no. It might be best to take those books home w/ me for Christmas so that my mom doesn’t catch me checking out the hippie books. All is well for a whole semester. Yay! Freedom! Let freedom ring, sing a song, sing a freedom song. Ugh, dear God, eighth grade choir. How far I have come since then. How I never thought I would finish, how I remember walking home on my final day, opening the gate to the backyard, realizing I would never have to go back to that terrible place. And I haven’t.