Wednesday, August 28, 2013


Almost done with 33.  My Jesus year, and I wanted to make it mean something.  I wanted to feel changed.  I wanted to feel invigorated.  I wanted to feel new.  I wanted the relief that comes from shedding the shells of old selves.

I moved, painted, and made changes to my daily life vis-à-vis the mess.  I learned how to make Char Siu.   I learned more about intersectional feminism.  I participated in a positive, healthy, romantic relationship, with open communication and self-awareness and love.   I ended same relationship in a positive, healthy, manner.   I became better at understanding, expressing, and enforcing, personal boundaries.  I lost, grieved, said good bye, and recovered from the death of a friend.   I did not get fired from my job.   (I had a job evaluation that began with my boss saying, "I don't know HOW you do it!")  I sent out stories for publication.  I got another tattoo.   I danced in a ballroom dance competition.   I went to Duluth and Minneapolis for the first time.  I swam in Lake Superior.   I attended a national photo education conference, and a feminism in SF/F conference.  I went to my sixth year of the Iowa State Fair.  I have now lived in Iowa City longer than anywhere else since I moved out of my parents' house. 

I look at this and I try to tell myself that it's a respectable list.  I try to be proud of it.  But I feel like all I did this year was tread water.  I look back at a year's worth of blog posts, my most prolific to date.  All that splashing, all that effort, and I still feel like I'm in the same place where I started.

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