22 & not a clue

She stood up too quickly as the tube juddered to a halt coming into the station, bouquet in one hand and a kiss on the other blown to a somewhat bemused looking young man. She smiled and bounced off onto the platform. He put his head in his hands, rubbed his face and looked up smiling.

His hair looked unkempt and it appeared he wasn't much of a sleeper. She had had her hair in a pony tail, diamante earrings but a rain coat; the sensible but sweet type. They may have been on a date, his lingering smile told me as much. She seemed abashed, perhaps she knew that she had jumped up too soon and maybe she should have kissed his cheek rather than her hand. The air isn't as sensitive a receiver as skin.

He clutched his satchel, scuffed in a similar way to his shoes both of which he seemed too fond of to replace. His shirt was creased, but then so were her jeans - no one irons anymore. He sat for two more stops, his expression transfixed somewhere between the evening's events and the blurring black hole of a backdrop that lies outside the window of the carriage.

He rubbed his hands together feverishly, perhaps they had been clammy from holding hers all evening as they strolled along the Strand. A cliched date idea but it appeared this had been their first, and aren't we all allowed to indulge cliche when it's the first of anything? Finally he rubbed his hands along his jeans and stood up. Straightening his satchel, his shoulders dropped and his smile fell away as he followed single file out through the sliding doors.

I've been cheating on my beloved blog with copy writing because copy writing pays - What a word slut I am.

I am unemployed, officially. Only it's called 'being a freelancer'. Which is another way of saying I write pieces I am proud of for free, for people I've never met in the hopes that one day, sitting across from a woman in clothes I cannot afford, she will look up and say 'welcome aboard.'

But you know what, I wouldn't change a second of this. Despite the feeling of dread in my gut about the long road ahead, right now this is bliss. I am getting to spend my days writing, reading and researching all the awesome out there topics that people should hear more about.

I get to take the time to do as I please and please only myself. I spent the afternoon in Melbourne's best kept secret Chokolait (order a milk hot chocolate with chilli at a level 6 - trust me) read an inspiring new magazine, made notes, wrote and chatted to an older couple from Perth about life. It was wonderful. Then I walked through Grafitti alley and up Swanston street smiling in the sunshine.

I am now sitting bathed in the aurelian light of Melbourne state library next to a beautiful Germanic bearded man typing happily away with the promise of a Huxtaburger with a girlfriend later. It's a beautiful day in Melbourne. I am happy. This is officially Me time and whilst I traverse the sphere of unemployment for a while I can relax because I am using the time wisely.

I attended a cocktail competition on Monday night on the back of a fellow blogger's +1. I didn't touch on the tram and the drinks were free - I spent nothing, nada, niente & I had a fantastic time. When asked what I did and why I was there I giggled and said 'I'm a blogger - isn't that the most narcissistic thing you've ever heard?'. Well it is.

Don't take yourself too seriously, pay it all forward because what you sow so shall you later reap. As my benevolent Norn Irish mother is so fond of saying. Be the good you wish to see in the world - cheers Ghandi. But really, it all means nothing if you can't take two minutes to laugh at yourself and appreciate it all simultaneously.