I know I haven’t been very good at updating this blog. Haha… two updates since I arrived in NYC?! I must confess I’m a little ashamed. My relationship with writing has been on the rocks for years. In exploring my limitations as a writer I’m beginning to discover that the blocks I’ve experienced go hand in hand with my relationship to my inner artist. That also has been on the rocks for years. I have always been the kind of girl that won’t go to the party unless she can have her cake and eat it to. One of my acting teachers says something about your life being your party. “This is your party baby, what are you going to do?” Yes he calls us baby. All of us. What have I been doing at the party? Sitting by the hors d’oeuvres table waiting for someone to ask me to dance, that’s what. Well those days are done. I have always struggled with creating without having the end result in sight. If I can’t see the project going the way I want, then I’ve put my creating on the back burner until I have time to completely pour all of my energy into a project and it can be completed exactly the way I wanted it. Gosh, I started this blog sounding like Elizabeth Gilbert, and now I’m sounding like Julia Cameron. When I was a kid, I used to spend hours in my room creating. I don’t ever remember having a structured plan…hmm on second thought maybe I did. Maybe this has been going on longer than I thought. Well then, here is my opportunity at 25 to really give myself the space and will to fail creatively. I really wanted to write this blog when I moved, and once I did I quickly got overwhelmed (as habit had it) and quit. Well I am challenging myself to commit to five minutes a day. If I can commit to sit down for five minutes every day then I think I could conquer something huge. Of course, once I get going I most likely will end up writing for twenty minutes or so which has scared me to death for months. Haha, I hear you all laughing. Challenge huh? My roommate told me that when I came back to Vancouver, I would realize how much I have adapted to the big city rat race. “It’s like moving to New York puts you in a fourth dimension and being in Vancouver is the third dimension.” I’m not sure how that makes any sort of logical sense, but I get it. New York is some sort of fourth dimension. I have had the hardest time just chilling out here. My body just doesn't do that anymore. Coming back to Vancouver has been very surreal. It's as if New York was a dream or a movie I watched. It feels like I never left. And whenever I have come home from somewhere, I have come home to be home. I’ve never come home for a holiday before. But where is home? I have an apartment here. That’s home to me even though I am not currently living there. I am staying at Adam’s apartment, which also feels like home to me. And then of course when I stay at my parent’s house, then I really feel at home. Because of course that is where I grew up. It’s funny how you resume your old habits when you return to a space. When my mom was cooking dinner the other night, I sat on the stool at the counter and read the newspaper as I have thousands of times, feeling no need to make light chit chat but just comforted by each other’s presence as we always have. I love that house. I love the quiet and darkness. Suburbia in all its glory. More like the country really. My dad called me out to the porch off the dining room to listen to the coyotes in the power lines. “Here’s something you won’t hear in New York.” Nope. Is there any wild life in New York, besides pigeons and rats? I definitely have been soaking up the essence of the pacific northwest with all my senses. But come on, is it really going to rain the entire time I am here? Merry Christmas everyone. I hope you will all give me a second chance at this blog. Love and light, Rebecca.