I have begun sewing pieces of paper together, notes that I haven't touched in two or three years. Old knowledge at this point, I suppose. I lay the blanket of words on the floor in our living room (distinct rooms are the biggest relief!) and decided to drape even more imagery over it. After a few strokes of graphite, I quit and sat on my heels. I am nervous and don't want to obliterate the meaning yet. I am not sure what this really means, either.

Work has slowed down significantly, and I am given time and space to dream clearly about the future. A few days ago my bad habits caught up with me, scaring myself into paralysis again. Instead, I am searching for outside commitment again - building the curriculum I started earlier this year. Learning again how to balance work, life, art...

Last week I heard the need to start hard work again, and my environment has repeated it steadily since Friday. I dream about broken car brakes while the roads turn into downward hills.

The past two weeks I've been making table runners for a friend's wedding out of Harry Potter book pages. My hands immediately knew I could put this method to use in my own practice, sewing papers together to make whole quilts. I call it Theory Quilting, and have only implemented work in laborious daydreams.

We are eagerly moving a bit south and will have 100 more square feet of space. I can already picture a sewing table underneath our bedroom window, pages and pages of thought flowing behind me. Between the yarn store's move to Inglewood, and the new home we found, I have a feeling things are "settling in" and I will be moving forward with my thesis finally. One of my professors senior year in undergrad told me to wait before I apply for my MFA, that the years after initial graduation settle like dust. I'm not quite sure why I was (am) so scared of not knowing what will happen next.