strangely paralyzed these days. desperate to write something, anything. I suppose this is my something, my anything. my feeble attempt to bust out of this whackadoodle holding pattern. the truth is that I have a hundred things to say, am busting at the seams with all the shareable things. new work, new words, workshops in exciting places. lists, there are a few lists, there are always a few lists. I think maybe I don't know where to start.
and so I think maybe this is how I start. this is how I break out. with this and well, these two words.