You'd think a troupe of plucky geographically challenged pre-teens were after me. One day this month I woke up in Toronto, travelled to Montreal, and went to sleep in Ottawa. I don't know what day of the week it is anymore. This is my new normal.
I'm taking acting classes and writing workshops. I promised myself I would go further deeper in my work as an artist. What better time than a new year to begin again? This has meant throwing myself completely out of my comfort zone. Push through the resistance. And there's been a lot of resistance. I'm living out of a small suitcase and showers are a pretty luxury. I haven't slept in a real bed or had a drop of alcohol in three weeks. There's been no time to think, to stop and build up excuses and defences. I'm tired, I'm unsettled, the walls are down. I'm vulnerable and emotional. My heart is open. And art is getting made.
What will come of it? I don't know. This isn't about result, it's about process.
Don't try to find me right now. I don't want to be found.
Just know that I'm happy.