My middle sister is my exercise coach and I’ve heard her say, “when the moment strikes and you feel like working out, do it right away, before that feeling fades”. This can, of course, be applied to all things. When the mood strikes to write, photograph, make art, do it. The reality is, the mood does not always strike. Sometimes we have to make the mood happen. This is true with so many things, as I’m writing about it, thinking about it, I’m realizing it applies to everything. Making art, baking cookies, creating a new altar, going on a date, having sex. All things. If we waited for the mood, we would get nothing done.

Today was the first day back to school after 2 weeks off. Staring down that first day when I have to recreate my routine and schedule feels overwhelming. It’s like a blank page, a blank canvas. All of that white, empty space is fucking bananas. What do I fill it with? And being my own boss, I have to tell my own self what to do. In some moments I feel like I’ll never be able to fill all of the hours, then just moments later, I feel rushed, like I don’t have enough time to do all of the things that I want to do. There are so many things to do. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with just starting to do any one thing, that I don’t start anything and I get nothing done. Finding the balance, creating structure, creating routine, these are all things that are hard for me, they don’t come naturally, so I continuously work on this, and most of the time I feel like I never find balance.

Being an artist, we have to have thick skins and be OK with rejection. This is so stupid. Obviously, as an artist, I do not have thick skin and I hate being rejected. I hate rejection of any kind. I can so easily let a rejection set me back. For a long time. I know this does not work well for me and my career. I know this.

Today I am making a photo album of my kids, Marisa’s boys, and Danielle’s son for my Dad. My Dad has dementia. He recently asked Margie if he has any grandchildren. I feel like I can’t breathe when I think about my Dad slowly losing all of his memories. I remember my Dad being a superhero. He stood up straight and tall. I knew he could beat anyone up. He was a healer, a doctor, a surgeon. Impressive. Someone to be proud of. None of that has changed. He will absolutely be all of those things. Forever.