Writing – or the profession of writing – can feel brutal sometimes in some of the smallest ways.

I needed a binder for one of the projects I’m stepping into (and indeed am behind on.) I realized I could finally evict my opera papers from my good folder in favor of the new-project kid on the block.

So less than 24 hours from closing curtain, this script that was nearly nine years of my life was speedily replaced with the New Hotness of what is to come (millennial reference for ya.)

It’s not a sadness I feel in the act, as I’m excited about quite a few projects I have in the works. And while I’m not ready to stop SEEING/HEARING the opera, I am quite happy to give the libretto a rest.

But it does feel a bit sacrilegious in the moment. Or inhumane maybe. The work has a lot of life in it – my life, artistic life, collaborative life. I feel in need of at least a graduation ceremony or something before it is reassigned to the dusty archives of the attic.

But it’s also fun to look at the past too, even so recent a past. Pictured are some of my favorite notes from this production, immortalized on colorful sticky notes.

More poignantly, a few weeks ago we were given some of the remaining items from my dad’s desk (he never made it back to his office after his diagnosis.) It makes me smile to see his sticky notes with Tlingit history on it in much the same way my own sticky notes with Tlingit history present.

So happy graduation day, gunalchéesh to grown-up(ish) Kutulagaaw, greetings all you new project babies, and welcome Next Chapter.