Yesterday I had a look at the calendar, and realised it was a very important anniversary for me: six years ago I graduated. I thought it was the end of something, of course, but especially the beginning of something else. I was full of hope and enthusiasm.
Unfortunately, it didn't work exactly as I thought: it was 2001, right after 9/11, a very dark period for the media. One should think that, since people were eager to have the latest news, and reports, and know everything about what was going on (which is true), the media should flourish. Wrong. Because the media depend a lot on advertising, on sponsors, and sponsors didn't feel at all like investing, just as anyone else didn't. So, newsrooms closed, journalists were fired and I found myself (me, who had always worked some way or another, since I was 15) jobless.

It was the darkest period of my life. No exception. I mean, there were objectively harder periods, but that was subjectively the hardest one, the first time in my life that I actually got suicidal. I think I was just too cowardly to put it into practice. It doesn't really matter that in the same period my boyfriend (if I can call him so) and I broke up. Actually, when I realised that at least I could still work with or for him, this helped me a lot. No, it was just this sense of end of the world, of my world, that was breaking me up. A sense of uselessness, with my mother trying to convince me that I might as well go and work in a supermarket. I have nothing against supermarkets, or humble works, I have done many in my life, but that wasn't the point, of course.

Anyway I'm here, and I'm alive, and in a way I can even say I am happy. So what happened these last 6 years?
A lot happened, but I can't say the results are as good as I hoped, if there are any. I must blame myself for that, but not only. Actually, I'm quite proud of the way I got out of my crisis. I must also thank someone.

I decided I had to get out of my own environment to understand what I really wanted and could do. So I travelled. Not far away, just to Lyon. At that time I was still living with my parents in Milan, but I had already worked for EN. EN was struck by the 9/11 effect too, and that's probably (but I'm not sure) why they didn't call me for work. They didn't confirm almost any of the contracts expiring in that period. Included my friend A.'s. Who, incidentally, had broken up too with his girlfriend. At the time he was hosting a German colleague who speaks a funny Neapolitan, since he lived for a while in Naples, but he had no problem in hosting me as well for a few days. We spoke a lot, he helped me find new ways to keep going as a free lance, and eventually I convinced him to go with me to Turkish Kurdistan.

That was the real turning point: my first visit to Turkey. I can't express how devastating - in a good sense - that experience was for me. But I think it's obvious for anyone who knows a little my interests: since then, I have gone to Turkey almost every year, in one case even twice in a year, and once for one month. And I decided to write a book about it.

This brings me back to the first question: what have I done these last six years? Well, for about a year, after that experience, I was a pure free lance, and it was the funniest and happiest period of my professional life: I met interesting people for interviews, travelled a lot, but I never earned enough to emancipate from my parents. So, in the end, since the crisis at EN had ended in the meantime, and I had started again to work for them, I decided to move to Lyon: there, rents were much cheaper than in Milan, I could have a flat in the centre of the city, and I hoped I could work for some of the websites and magazines I was working for in Milan. But, there again, things didn't turn out as expected: EN started filling up most of my time, and it was much more profitable for me than going on working with the other contacts. A pity. Add to that the two years of a disastrous love affair which brought me almost nothing. Two years wasted, when I couldn't really concentrate on my objectives. All my fault, I'm aware of that.

And then, there was a year of holiday. It took me one full year to recover from that experience. I don't regret it, I really needed it. But it took away more time.

So, well, what can I say? No results so far. I'm quite frustrated. But not unhappy. Because I'm working a lot on that. I'm working to have results - concrete ones - next year. What results? Well, the book, to start with. And, especially, starting to get known. I don't mean celebrity, I mean being taken seriously in the subjects I work on. Sometimes I feel as if I was still considered like a young girl coming out of school, while I have ten years' experience on my job as a professional. And I have things to say. I've had enough of having to convince editors in chief to get published and then get paid peanuts. I just want what I work for, is that too much?