this year, again

What I started this post to say, was that my birth control pill is caught in my throat, dissolving like a Cherry Tylenol. I wondered what this meant, how it made my taking it three hours late worse. And then I remembered what I was feeling.

I have failed. This is part of the new year, this whole acceptance of my smallness. The fact that the blog will not have followers, that it is for myself, that my writing here is a way to hold myself accountable, to prove to myself that I can do it. And here "It" is.

I am tired. I am still chewing on moments of my past six months that I know are the times I will one day say we made it through. I am coming to terms. I have been writing it as fiction and disseminating the information and loosening my attachment and saying this is what I believe, this here, this moment of perception, this way that I feel defines me.

When asked what my foundation is, where I rest on issues and what defines me, I find myself a feminist, a socialist, a firm believer in the desire to help a Society that is failing, because if I don't help who will and what am I living in?

I accept this. That is what I am doing this year. In the resolution to do yoga, to pick this blog back up for myself and post to la francofile for ourselves, to write To Aim for instead of To Do, in all of these things is my acceptance that what I really want is peace.

I want to breathe and appreciate it. I want to aim and accept that there will be time tomorrow to finish what I attempted. And if there is not time tomorrow, then what the fuck anyway? I started this post to say that I was choking on protection. I began typing this blog to say that I will again be typing on this blog with a regular irregularity, which actually mirrors what I was going to write about, the choking and all. And then I wrote this blog, and I ask for your forgiveness in this meta piece that is a confessional, like the true Catholic I am in many ways, a reminder to myself that I am trying. And for the first time, I am happy to be not-quite-making it, not all the way.