December 23rd, 2005
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presence, and presents


Time for writing overdue letters to friends and family back home. I don’t know why I’ve been avoiding it, but I have. I think it might be that I feel myself evolving and I worry that others want to old me, (the one that was more passive, the one who didn’t stick up for herself, or the one who smiled and nodded and made everything feel o.k. all of the time). I feel as though I am emerging into a completely different model of myself, and there are a small handful of powerful women in my life who are walking this path with me at the same time. For this I am grateful. (I will some of you soon, in a few short weeks).
So on to the wrapping, finishing up the last of the projects, pushing away the flood of ideas that beg to be written down on a constant basis.
I received a manuscript back from my agent this week and looking at it again I feel it’s potential. The pile of rejections have done nothing to dilute the fact that I think it is good, much to my surprise. It is just a matter finding the right place for it.
Creatively I am exploding at the seams. There is a giddyness that wells up in the middle of my chest, it feels much like just a happiness at being alive. I heard an interview (podcast) last night between Miranda July and author George Saunders (put out by the Hammer Museum) in which he descibes the feeling that preceeds his writing, when he knows something is about to pour out. He too relates it to feeling joyful, or grateful for everything. While this may not be true for all artists, it is certainly true for me. Wanting to explode.
I wish I could articulate it better, but I am distracted hung lights and colors, and christmas music, and food and shiny presents that arrive in the mail.
How I love shaking the packages.
Sometimes christmas is better unopened.
Most often, little packages hold better surprises than the big ones.

 
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