The good itch.

I imagine you've noticed things have been a little rough lately. My brain has been going to some pretty dark places, even more than usual, and I haven't hesitated to dump it here. Sorry for that.

When I was raising my daughter, I would hear experts -- the ones I trusted -- say that when your kid seems impossible all of a sudden, it's because they're in the process of growth. Something big is in the works, like starting to walk, and they're working through it.

Maybe that's what this is.

Because I've had this itch lately. It seems to be irresistible and I'm not sure where it came from. It's always been there, but now it seems that no combination of fear and self loathing will relieve it.

This is harder to share with you than all the bile I've been spewing lately. Until now, I've only told my therapist.

It's about being creative, and it's really weird. I just want to create in every way I can. I'm writing again, that's good. But then I think, Acting! Singing! Photography! Podcast! YouTube! 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Is it a second childhood? Or my first? Maybe I'm becoming aware that time is going to run out. Or maybe it's just winter in upstate New York and I'm bored.

Whatever it is, it's outrageous, and I'm deeply, profoundly embarrassed to share it. 

And yet, the Universe is swirling and opportunities are falling in my lap. My playwriting class this semester is in a dance studio and involves acting and improv. The library's only podcast and video expert has moved to DC and somebody needs to learn and teach the technology. And the college recently gave me free access to some pretty fancy media software.

The wind is blowing in every direction. I'm told I should follow it.