I live in a new city now! It is full of Shawarma places, internationally-recognized department stores, raccoons, fat mayors, Universities, parks, and people! There are a lot of people in this city.
The move has actually been pretty great-- I've been helped along by family and friends who have played host to me, given me directions, filled me with promises of lunch and tourist buses and escapes (if I need them) from "The Big City." I live in a Polish neighborhood with a minimum of one fruit stand per city block. I also live right next to a gigantic park, where just last week I had the most intense flashback to my pre-memory childhood.
It's a happy coincidence that I live just a scant 30 minutes from my first ever home-- you know, the place I came to after the womb and the hospital. Parts of it feel very much like I belong here. But I've been mistaken for a very young person a few times this week; someone who's setting out on her own for the very first time. It's a bit unnerving, and tonight I feel a mixture of excitement and defeat. Like I could make a mixed CD full of songs that only use my name as the title, or finish writing a graphic novel, and also simultaneously huddle into a ball, call home in a whiny voice, and finally drift off to sleep watching bad TV on Netflix.
On the bus today I found myself wishing I had moved here a little earlier. Not because I'm not grateful for the time I got to spend with my friends and family, but because if I had already been here for a few weeks, I would have already made all the superficial adjustments. Not having made them makes me a bit of a bad grad student. I am less confident in myself when I am less confident in my surroundings. I can only play the "new kid" card so many times. It's a piece of brutal honesty that feels like it can only come as I venture home at midnight.
So I live here now. I am by turns excited by and afraid of this place. In the past week alone, I have eaten some amazing meals and local snacks, witnessed a fine sampling of Toronto's talent covering Beatles tunes, purchased tickets to see probably my favourite-at-the-moment musician at a small historic venue, sang Korean Karaoke, reconnected with family, seen art I've only ever read about, been swept off my feet by crowds on streets and subways, played on the best.playground.ever (in the dark), seen doppelgangers and style icons, gotten lost in the expanse of almost-natural park, and plotted my way across space that is (right now) mentally immeasurable. Tomorrow I am going to a Vegetarian Food Festival with new acquaintances, and then off to weave an elaborate adventure courtesy of newly close friends (and a few manuals and player handbooks). There is a lot to look forward to. There is a lot to assert myself for.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Things That Make me Feel Good About my Body
This summer, I can pretty proudly say, I feel the best about my body that I have in a long time. This may just be some passing fad, some part of the ebb and flow of grace and confidence and ease that come with being human in different phases, some upswing in the ever-present dilemma of "do I like myself?", but I'll acknowledge that I feel very different in my own skin lately than I have in the past.
I think, to some degree, everyone goes through periods of comfort and discomfort in their bodies. The experience is obviously tainted by expectations around gender and beauty. Being mistaken for pregnant or a street-worker, or confronting the fact that I will make fewer tips in a service job if I wear pants-- these are things I deal with in my gendered experience of the body, based on expectations that women be certain ways when they are mothers/sexual beings/waitresses. And while I share some of these experiences with other women, I also have drastically different ones, from other women, and from men, and from anyone who has a body and uses it in any way.
This is all by way of saying that the things that make me feel comfortable or uncomfortable in my body are incredibly subjective-- but at the same time, in sharing them on the internet, I make the assumption that someone else will benefit from hearing about them (and, in a broader sense, from hearing about my experiences AT ALL, which is the somewhat problematic assumption I make in having a blog in the first place). It's a tough call, but my developing confidence dictates that I share a few things that have made me really happy about my body lately:
1. I Think You're Sauceome: Sarah Becan's Excellent Webcomic
This comic started out purely about body issues and issues around food. It's incredibly autobiographical, and since it began over a year ago the story has become less about weight-loss and more about body-positivity, food journalism/artistry, and conquering anxieties about the world in general. The thing I love so much about this webcomic is that it doesn't pit enjoyment of food and body-positivity against each other. There is no language of good and bad bodies, or foods. It's a language of healthy decisions or a discussion of why the artist has certain relationships with foods or her body. I feel a lot in common with Sarah Becan as a small-time gourmande, bike-commuter, artist nerd, and I think she's got the right idea-- not just about food and body issues and health, but about building a lifestyle. Sauceome is about making decisions that coincide with a self and a system of beliefs. It's about agency and the decision to revel in good things in ways that are mentally and physically healthy. I've been reading it almost daily (the comic comes out every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday), and it's been an incredibly positive little shift in my thinking.
2. Running!
I have been training myself to run 5km over the past 6 weeks, and I am very close. Part of the reason this makes me feel so good is obviously endorphins (not a small factor, actually), but the other reason is that my general fitness level has improved in a serious way, without any major changes to my body size or shape. This tells me two things: that my body shape is largely dictated by my biology, and no amount of guilt can change that, AND that having a reasonable/good level of fitness does not "look like" any one particular thing.
I've been following the Podrunner Intervals training program, in case you're interested. I've found that having a dedicated schedule of workouts and a separate set of music to run to (rather than my own music which has a zillion other associations) are really helpful, and I think the slow starting pace and gradual build-up have helped me actually stick with it.
3. Leah Horlick's Bellydance Class
I signed up for this class with a great deal of anxious anticipation, but I've found all the ages, fitness levels, and body types represented in this class seriously inspiring (which is a word that I hate and therefore do not use lightly.) Leah's been so encouraging and body-positive, and I know that she's taken pains to be this way, creating really inclusive names and visualizations for techniques, and promoting a really healthy, body-loving atmosphere. The amazing thing about bellydance (and about bodies in general!) is that bodies move in all different ways. Bellydance accentuates that, and it means that everybody has something really cool they can do with their particular shape that will not look that way on anyone else.
The other thing that comes just from taking any kind of dance class is that I have this heightened awareness of where parts of my body are... It feels strange to describe, but it's like I've suddenly figured out where my hips are and become conscious of the anatomy underneath. I have this very slight new understanding (and I hope it grows) of how to control my joints and muscles, how to isolate parts of my body, and how to keep good posture not just in dance, but in everyday activities.
The thing is: none of these feelings are related to other ways I have felt about my body. They aren't rooted in guilt or shame or a desire for more willpower. It feels intensely personal to mention the ways I feel in my body at all. But right now, it also feels less personal and less invasive to talk about my body and body issues because I have some new-found equilibrium. This also isn't a how-to guide, just some things that have made me feel really good-- not because my body is any different, but because my sense of self is different.
And while I veer between saying things that are celebratory and positive, there is this lingering feeling that they sound like cliches, or they sound cheap. The reason I say these things is that there are no other words.
I say these ones with sincerity.
I think, to some degree, everyone goes through periods of comfort and discomfort in their bodies. The experience is obviously tainted by expectations around gender and beauty. Being mistaken for pregnant or a street-worker, or confronting the fact that I will make fewer tips in a service job if I wear pants-- these are things I deal with in my gendered experience of the body, based on expectations that women be certain ways when they are mothers/sexual beings/waitresses. And while I share some of these experiences with other women, I also have drastically different ones, from other women, and from men, and from anyone who has a body and uses it in any way.
This is all by way of saying that the things that make me feel comfortable or uncomfortable in my body are incredibly subjective-- but at the same time, in sharing them on the internet, I make the assumption that someone else will benefit from hearing about them (and, in a broader sense, from hearing about my experiences AT ALL, which is the somewhat problematic assumption I make in having a blog in the first place). It's a tough call, but my developing confidence dictates that I share a few things that have made me really happy about my body lately:
1. I Think You're Sauceome: Sarah Becan's Excellent Webcomic
This comic started out purely about body issues and issues around food. It's incredibly autobiographical, and since it began over a year ago the story has become less about weight-loss and more about body-positivity, food journalism/artistry, and conquering anxieties about the world in general. The thing I love so much about this webcomic is that it doesn't pit enjoyment of food and body-positivity against each other. There is no language of good and bad bodies, or foods. It's a language of healthy decisions or a discussion of why the artist has certain relationships with foods or her body. I feel a lot in common with Sarah Becan as a small-time gourmande, bike-commuter, artist nerd, and I think she's got the right idea-- not just about food and body issues and health, but about building a lifestyle. Sauceome is about making decisions that coincide with a self and a system of beliefs. It's about agency and the decision to revel in good things in ways that are mentally and physically healthy. I've been reading it almost daily (the comic comes out every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday), and it's been an incredibly positive little shift in my thinking.
2. Running!
I have been training myself to run 5km over the past 6 weeks, and I am very close. Part of the reason this makes me feel so good is obviously endorphins (not a small factor, actually), but the other reason is that my general fitness level has improved in a serious way, without any major changes to my body size or shape. This tells me two things: that my body shape is largely dictated by my biology, and no amount of guilt can change that, AND that having a reasonable/good level of fitness does not "look like" any one particular thing.
I've been following the Podrunner Intervals training program, in case you're interested. I've found that having a dedicated schedule of workouts and a separate set of music to run to (rather than my own music which has a zillion other associations) are really helpful, and I think the slow starting pace and gradual build-up have helped me actually stick with it.
3. Leah Horlick's Bellydance Class
I signed up for this class with a great deal of anxious anticipation, but I've found all the ages, fitness levels, and body types represented in this class seriously inspiring (which is a word that I hate and therefore do not use lightly.) Leah's been so encouraging and body-positive, and I know that she's taken pains to be this way, creating really inclusive names and visualizations for techniques, and promoting a really healthy, body-loving atmosphere. The amazing thing about bellydance (and about bodies in general!) is that bodies move in all different ways. Bellydance accentuates that, and it means that everybody has something really cool they can do with their particular shape that will not look that way on anyone else.
The other thing that comes just from taking any kind of dance class is that I have this heightened awareness of where parts of my body are... It feels strange to describe, but it's like I've suddenly figured out where my hips are and become conscious of the anatomy underneath. I have this very slight new understanding (and I hope it grows) of how to control my joints and muscles, how to isolate parts of my body, and how to keep good posture not just in dance, but in everyday activities.
The thing is: none of these feelings are related to other ways I have felt about my body. They aren't rooted in guilt or shame or a desire for more willpower. It feels intensely personal to mention the ways I feel in my body at all. But right now, it also feels less personal and less invasive to talk about my body and body issues because I have some new-found equilibrium. This also isn't a how-to guide, just some things that have made me feel really good-- not because my body is any different, but because my sense of self is different.
And while I veer between saying things that are celebratory and positive, there is this lingering feeling that they sound like cliches, or they sound cheap. The reason I say these things is that there are no other words.
I say these ones with sincerity.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
This happened
Yesterday while I was biking to the printmaking lab, I was in a ridiculous situation involving another two regular cars, myself, and one of those frequent-stopsy parking vehicles. The driver waved us past, I yielded to the two other cars coming towards me, and then proceeded to bike past the parking vehicle like a champ and give its driver a little wave to say thanks.
At which point, my weird linen yoga pants caught in my waterbottle cage, propelling me forward (while still on my bike) that I was sitting on my bike frame, with the seat jabbing into my back, and my pedals at my knees. I flailed around a bit and managed to get my bearings and sit on the seat again. So, like any reasonable person, I said, out loud, to myself: "That was embarrassing."
There's a part of me that thinks that this story would be more funny if one of the two cyclists behind me that I hadn't noticed had chimed in at this point and said, for example, "Yes it was." Instead, when I went to look behind me at the driver who could reasonably have been laughing, I noticed two now really awkward, totally silent cyclists.
Maybe not a qualifying story for my next stand-up comedy routine, but I hear a lot of angry cycling stories this time of year (from cyclists and drivers), so a mostly harmless and perhaps funny one can't hurt.
At which point, my weird linen yoga pants caught in my waterbottle cage, propelling me forward (while still on my bike) that I was sitting on my bike frame, with the seat jabbing into my back, and my pedals at my knees. I flailed around a bit and managed to get my bearings and sit on the seat again. So, like any reasonable person, I said, out loud, to myself: "That was embarrassing."
There's a part of me that thinks that this story would be more funny if one of the two cyclists behind me that I hadn't noticed had chimed in at this point and said, for example, "Yes it was." Instead, when I went to look behind me at the driver who could reasonably have been laughing, I noticed two now really awkward, totally silent cyclists.
Maybe not a qualifying story for my next stand-up comedy routine, but I hear a lot of angry cycling stories this time of year (from cyclists and drivers), so a mostly harmless and perhaps funny one can't hurt.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
So it begins!
I am splitting myself in two! It's appropriate. One of me tries to be professional and accessible, and the other is a little excitable and wants to tell you about her life. This is the latter.
I once had a blog about things I made, which sort of devolved into a blog about things I thought and did and listened to and read. These things are important, too, so you're granted access to them here if you like.
I once had a blog about things I made, which sort of devolved into a blog about things I thought and did and listened to and read. These things are important, too, so you're granted access to them here if you like.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)