Every end has a beginning- how do you start?

As I am sitting here with plaster underneath my fingernails, slowly making it's way to the crevices of my laptop keyboard, I know exactly how I got to this starting point. 
Following a nerve-racking pecha kucha presentation I called my friend to to complain about how terrible I am at public speaking. After hanging up, my feet made their way to 114, and a long sigh of relief came out of my mouth when I sat down in my studio chair. This is where I start. I start when I am in the worst place and it seems that nothing can better my mood unless my hands are moving and a good song is playing. From that point on it's easy and I remember why I am an art major, and more importantly why I make. 
To me, art has always been some what of a release. It has always been something that calls to me if I have been neglectful of it for a while. It reaches a threshold until finally it boils over and I need it. Almost like emotion. 
There are those people who bottle stuff up until-they-absolutely-cannot-stand-it. One thing happens and their whole body is flooded with emotion that is pleading to be noticed and listened to. I suppose thats how art is for me, a metaphor for emotion, a way to release with out using my words. I start right here.