writing

I’m in Paris, sipping a cafe creme and biting into a buttery croissant in a sidewalk cafe. I've been here for a week - working, seeing family, and walking the streets - but I feel like I've only just arrived. It's taken me days of adjustment to actually get here. The rush of leaving on an international adventure tied my nervous system in knots: Endless lists and an overfull calendar led to restless nights and self-imposed spinning. By the time I actually settled into my seat

I'm standing in a Saturday afternoon improv class in Hollywood that I've been dreading for weeks. I've signed up for a three hour introduction to improv that has my belly is in knots. As a child, I was a musical theater geek, standing on the stage of our local community black box, rolling my shoulders and practicing dictation drills before belting show tunes to a small gathering of my parents and friends. Our warm up exercises became such an unconscious part of the fabric of