Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight.

Originally I had “Fill Your Heart” by David Bowie in my head, yet somehow K.C. and the Sunshine Band was what came out of my fingers. What the hell is wrong with me? End of the year enui.

An entire year has passed and seemingly nothing has happened… okay, I know, a few things happened. I got a full-time job after staying home with my daughters for three and a half years, my family moved from our cute home of twelve years, a rowhouse in Baltimore City to a house in Baltimore County. A house in which I now have a room to make art in, yet no time to do so. What I have done in the past eight months, is almost completely unpack a plethora of strange items (why, pray tell, do I have a small bag full of fake ants?) in this studio/office/headquarters. Not only are there curiosities, but years and years of letters and journals and tons of other written material seem to have piled up in this room. It is the physical manifestation of my cluttered and addled mind. Dumped out in front of me when I have a fleeting moment in which to review it all. Or, at least, the juicy bits.

TOTAL MIND FUCK.

Really, do I need to read letters from past relationships, journal entries of misery and alone-ness? Must I? Clearly, there is something compelling about reviewing ones’ past. I mean, there could be something important hidden among the piles and piles of paper. Oh and the photographs. Tons of them. Could there be thousands? At least lots of hundreds. It all ended in 2001, when I got a digital camera and stopped spending money on printed photography. Sad. Looking through old photos is more meaningful, somehow, than clicking through old-ish images on a computer. When Mimi and Beenie look at photographs, they look at them on the little LED screen of a digital camera or on a computer screen. Usually, the images are of them looking cheeky.

Beenie is hacking up a lung tonight, which is a repeat performance of last night and the night before that, when I had to go in her and Mimi’s room and sit on her bed and hold her up so she could stop coughing. Post nasal crap choking her when she lies down. Which means I don’t get any sleep. In about two minutes I’m going to have to go back into her room and do the prop-up again. This is what you do for your children. It would be easier if I didn’t have to go into work tomorrow morning really early. But I do.