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.