2011: A year in posts
2011 marked my second year as a blogger, but it was also one of my least active and most conflicted. I was not nearly as prolific as I had been in 2010. I would blog in bursts, between breakups and grad school deadlines. While I accomplished more this year in grad school (a landmark paper for my Ph.D., for instance), I lagged in blogging. When I did blog, though, it was often heavy and rarely light.
The year of the Indian man:
The getting over the breakup:
Where I praised the get-over-him kiss. A few weeks after breaking up with Rafael, easily the biggest heartbreak of the year, I wrote about hope, then took a solo road trip. To Yellowstone, via Utah, Wyoming and Nevada. This was so immensely cleansing, it took me months to finally understand what happened on that road trip.
Meta-posts (blogging about blogging):
This year’s Valentine’s Day was an active one that involved a friendly love triangle. But when one of the men found my blog and confronted me, I had a choice: to move forward with the blog or to halt. I knew this wouldn’t be the first time I would discuss my blog with a boyfriend, so I made a pivotal decision to continue blogging:
I let go. I am proud of this blog. I am proud of who I’ve become through a year of writing this blog. I will not retreat. This is my mouthpiece, my foghorn, my “beating heart on my ever-present sleeve.” I will proceed to write, and as I do, I will protect – sometimes successfully, sometimes not – those whose hearts are also divulged in the lines of this binary code.
In August, September and November, while going through a new and healthy relationship with an Indian architect in Los Angeles, I didn’t blog once. I also dropped off of Twitter. After those two months had passed, I wrote again, only to say that I was:
no longer interested in the page hits, or number of comments I receive on blog posts, or number of friends I meet on Twitter, or even which of my exes are still reading. Because I’ll write this blog the way I wrote it in the beginning: for me, a couple of my friends, and whoever else stumbles over and decides to read. No advertisements, no Tweets announcing its arrival several times a day, and no guarantee I’ll even blog that frequently as graduate school demands more of me.
The post I can’t neatly categorize:
The time I dated and fell in love with a paraplegic. I still can’t see stairwells or handicapped parking spots the same way
Finally … the funnies:
A blog post on kissing that I still re-read with great mirth. The winner of worst kisses, if we can call it a “winner,” was the “Face Bath” kiss.
That time I went to a nude beach with a blogger who, after applying spray sunscreen to me, complimented me on my “nice ass.”
Another blogger’s (friend’s) recap of 2011:
TurnJacon: “Reflecting on 2011“