Maybe its the mounting holiday frenzy, or the recent tragedies, or the distraction of teaching, or my own peculiar mood swings, but I find myself in a creative quagmire, shoveling at a constantly sluffing muck of mediocre unformed ideas, hoping to find a bright jewel. I keep beginning projects only to dismantle them in a state of agitated dissatisfaction. The ideas that come to me in the night, as I lay churning and tossing in un-sleep, reveal themselves as they are in the light of day. Like the spork or the snuggy, these ideas feel frivolous, irrelevant. I want to make something that rocks me, that sends ripples out into the world around it. I suppose the only thing to do is keep digging.