when i got the winter 2011 emerging artist residency from the field some weeks ago, i realized that this was the perfect moment for me to fall into a deep sleep of creativity and let my ideas -- however lousy and half-baked and simple -- wash over the soul of me like a gigantic waterfall, and gush onto the rest of my world. that's the way the creative impetus seems to work -- for me, anyway. it gets all over everything, it affects everything. it changes me, opens me up. no sooner did i begin to doze and dig into the libretto for the alberta hunter project than the rpm challenge reared it's ugly head. i'd wanted to do it for ages. why not now? i couldn't think of a reason, so i signed up. by the time i really settled in, i decided to pull out the script for my one person show about reparations. so right about now, i'm off to the races.
it's trippy, that long walk through the snow and the cold and the quiet that lives in the darkness to the rehearsal space all the way on the west side. everything is still and the trees are frostbitten and i am alone. and i like my aloneness. i'm adjusting to this process, to writing everyday and working out ideas alone in a wide open rehearsal space. i like this chance.
there's all this other stuff going on -- a gig here and there, auditions, and lots to work on for the next album. and yes, there is boxing and all the work i'm doing physically so i can get good at it, which is a whole other situation entirely. an hour of circuit training makes me feel like crawling all the way home, or at least to the steam room. but creative hibernation reigns paramount.
i intend to emerge victorious when spring arrives -- lean and strong and clear-headed, squinting into the sun, defiant and happy. my script in one hand, my album in the other. a pretty hat on my head. new songs in my heart. more ideas, growing.
until then, i am hibernating like the bear my permanent boyfriend says i really am.