My life is undergoing a complete overhaul. I wanted this for a while, so why is it that at the same time I am welcoming some of the most amazing changes and opportunities into my life, am I dealing with bouts of anxiety, minor and major freak-outs and meltdowns?

I am an emotional creature, but I am also a highly rational one. I took a test a few years ago – and the psychologist told me, for whatever it's worth, that she thought both of my brain hemispheres were equally active/dominant. I guess according to that paradigm, most people have either left or right hemispheres running the show and being dominant. Whereas in my case, both of them are constantly vying for attention.

Yes, it can be rather exhausting. As a matter of fact, as of today, I am going back to meditating at least a bit every day, because I quite simply need it – it's not even a luxury – I need to maintain a balance and when it comes to my head and my heart, maintenance is as crucial to my well-being as basic necessities to the body.

I think I know, though, what is going on. As a new leaf is about to turn, I am confronted with the bits of the past I put away haphazardly into the drawers of my psyche, hoping and thinking they would never be needed again, or would not have a chance to resurface. I like to keep moving forward, and I have conditioned myself to be that way, almost to a fault.

But what that means is: I don't spend enough time healing what needs to be healed. I suit up and ride into battle. And now that I am opening up to life on more levels than one, I am realizing that my proverbial 'forgotten drawers' still hold a few feelings, memories and fears I never dealt with.

They are like emotional tax returns you never filed. Eventually they do catch up with you.

Last night I went to see a very cute film by the French director Jean Pierre Jeunet, Micmacs. It happened to be a screening on the USC campus: the college I have graduated from here, in the US. It was a fascinating coincidence of sorts, that I would find myself there again, at this time in my life. Actually, I had avoided that campus for a while. It is still connected in my mind with some of the hardest years of my life: be it in music or otherwise.

As I exited the theater last night, I sat for a little while in the space between two buildings in the School of Music area. I had spent many hours here: waiting for a class, chatting with friends, or – well – having fallen in love, waiting miserably for the object of my misguided affection to walk by. I remember it as a different lifetime: a solitary Russian girl, who brimmed over with music, was slowly growing to detest Los Angeles and kept slipping into self-destructive behaviour. Someone who felt so much and yet kept pushing people away. So unsure of myself, and my place in this world.

Last night, being there, was a moment to remember. I sat there with a new friend – who is fast becoming an important and close one – who could relate to me on many levels. I felt the unreality of the moment, as ghosts of my past kept marching by. I was wondering what the moment was telling me: was it a warning? Or was it something like a graduation: an encouraging gesture from the universe for me to let go of the past? I would like to think it was the latter.

And as I enter a new phase of my life, sloughing off the layers of resistance and cleaning out the drawers of emotions and memories which belong to a different time, I am filled with gratitude. There is work to be done, for sure. But I can do it. I can. And even this city I used to fear and hate so much, has truly revealed itself as a City of Angels to me over time and has become my home. I have learned to love and accept love: be it for my music or for myself. I have fallen in love with music and life, made amends where I could, and learned to give back. And so today is a new day. As I slept last night, I had many fearful and sad dreams, all dealing with the past that got dredged up, ghosts of fears I carry with me in the present. I woke up, went swimming, and as I sit here, writing this, I have a request for you, whoever you are, reading this.

Pick a sad or shameful memory and let go of it. I will do the same thing. Join me for a moment and let's celebrate the fact that we are here, alive, on this blue day. We have all made it this far. We can love, laugh and there is music all around us.

And there are better things yet to come.

We are shooting some special material for you… yes, yes. I am very excited. I have alternately frozen to death, gotten wet, sweated out of my mind, frozen again… but I think it was worth it.

'Beatrix Runs' will be out in a little more than three weeks! How time flies.

I also have three weeks of relative downtime to really work on some things I want to be in place for live shows to come. I have plenty to record, too.

Furthermore, here is a bit of information, as well: 'Beatrix Runs' – my upcoming record – has a story behind it.

It will be unveiled, chapter by chapter, over the course of this year.

It is a story of adventure – in more ways you could possibly imagine.

I really enjoyed writing it. It will become available in various formats – as a traditional narrative, but also as a variation of a graphic novel, and interactive online content, too.

There are clues to the story and its characters on the packaging of the album, which will include a poster.

And now back to work…

I rather think maybe it is a good thing I never met him – well – we were born in slightly different eras. Because if I had, I would have probably followed him around in an embarrassing fashion: showing up at his house at random times, writing him little notes, texting….oh wait. Anyway, I have a huge crush on Robert Frost. Sigh.

“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.” (Robert Frost)

TO EARTHWARD

Love at the lips was touch
As sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much;
I lived on air
That crossed me from sweet things,
The flow of- was it musk
From hidden grapevine springs
Down hill at dusk?
I had the swirl and ache
From sprays of honeysuckle
That when they're gathered shake
Dew on the knuckle.
I craved strong sweets, but those
Seemed strong when I was young;
The petal of the rose
It was that stung.
Now no joy but lacks salt
That is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault;
I crave the stain
Of tears, the aftermark
Of almost too much love,
The sweet of bitter bark
And burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred
I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard
In grass and sand,
The hurt is not enough:
I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough
To all my length.