Day three of the flu. Bed-ridden. Starting to feel my creative brain itching to make new connections, to learn. It’s a welcome sensation, after weeks (months?) of focus-on-the-next-task-just-need-to-make-it-to-7pm-when-I-can-finally-collapse daily grind. Writing that out now, I understand why my body has succumbed to sickness. The Process podcast episode is late, I have emails I have to respond to, and I haven’t released my new song yet, but I am ignoring all of that (translation: attempting to ignore all of that) in order to take care of my body. I live here, after all. It’s my only home.
Siena Rose 