Sunday, January 01, 2012
Happy New Year!
You've seen me use this day as a place to publish my intentions for the year — though I don't do anything as hard and fast as resolutions.
This year I'm skipping that. I know my intentions well enough, deeply enough, that I need not write them down. I intend to graduate art school. I intend to get a diploma and finish my thesis project, forging it into final book form. I intend to figure out a way to earn some money.
But I also intend to perhaps bring the other part of myself — the part that has spent a lifetime working out the Food & Body Thing — onto these pages. This is why I drew a running shoe today. I didn't just start running. I started running a long time ago. Then I stopped. Then started. Then stopped. I tried to be a runner and felt I was too slow. I tried to be a non-runner and found I needed to move, and that exercise had to be cheap, simple and something I could do anywhere, which meant I was back to running.
Earlier in fall, I picked it up again, and Katy and I spent Thanksgiving morning participating in the very fun Cleveland Turkey Trot 5-miler. There is little chance you will see me writing about training for a marathon here, because after all we have established that I'm not a runner.
Still, as someone who is also not a non-runner, you may see me write about running. And about food. And about body image. And, therefore, about lower-case feminism. And about my book, "Thick Through the Middle," which you'll read more on later.
That's it. I have a new sketchbook, which pleases me because it's finally something that really fits my needs. I have a newishly regenerated running habit, which also fits. I'm wearing a pair of jeans that fit me, and, perhaps like you, I'm trying to make it all fit — all of it. I'm going for less anxiety, less wishing-to-be-a-changed-person and more aiming-to-be-comfortable-in-my-own-skin.
Oh, and also ... If you have intentions, or thoughts about moving in a certain direction, I'd love to read about them.
So I guess I wrote my intentions after all. Well, it is January 1, and I cannot help myself. I cannot even try.