i haven’t updated my blog in months. i have piles and piles of scrap pieces of paper with amazing ideas and outlines. i’ve been planning a website refresh for a minute. a collaborative pop art piece on environmental issues. an exploratory art exhibition. two books of edited works. three short stories. a poetry chapbook. two grant applications and a proposal. two remix culture online projects. a film script. a curated exhibition. a couple of trips. a fairytale. phd applications. plus an entrance exam.

i had felt frozen by everything just piling on top of me. a cluttered mountain of stuff. but i started purging the physical, and with each useless item i throw out, more time magically appears to plan and implement.

i’m removing myself from my social sphere. i can feel it. i’m slacking off at returning phonecalls, sending last minute texts cancelling on plans. i’ve stopped updating this site ten times a day, my twitter feed on the hour, and responding to fb messages. i’m turning selfish, but not really.

i need to take this space more than i need wasted time. there’s a rash on my fingertips from the itch to create and everyday, i vomit stories.

i’ve stopped thinking of new ideas. i’ve finished labelling my files and organising my workspace. i’m just filling up the tank, and soon, very soon, i’m taking off.

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