May. 4th, 2006

adrienmundi: (Default)
My walk among the trees every workday has gone beyone something necessary and flowered into something I genuinely look forward to (that poor use of a preposition dedicated to aesthetic for cluing me into the path in the woods in the first place). Stepping between the first tall trees, seeing the path dip and wind through sun and shadow. It's almost like seeing friends who are happy to see you in a place you know you'll find them; even the air feels different, not just cooler, but active, welcoming. In warmer months, I often shed my buttondown, and walk in my ubiquitous black t shirt. It's not just a symbolic act (though clothing is particularly coded, usually in the negative, for me; shedding a mandatory sign of corporate whoredom/genderedness is good); feeling the active air on the skin of my arms is welcome, comfortably familiar.

Today, I eschewed the black t in favor of a grey tank top. Part of it was a laundry shortage, but part of it was a question of fit and comfort; it turns out there are supportive aspects to snug shirts of which I've not previously been very aware. An added bonus is that when I shed my shirt, it exposes my shoulders to the wind, which is a sensation I rarely have, and have recently come to very much enjoy.

Strangely, I like my shoulders. Not so much for how they look (I'm probably a poor judge, honestly, though one of them does carry all of my art to date. This summer will likely see the slow, rightward creep of images with the addition of a sun and a moon), but for how they sometimes feel: high and strong and square, full of potential, as though great things are just about ready to burst from them. (I like strange parts of myself: shoulders, the lower 2/3 of my forearms, my eyes (though rarely both at the same time), and sometimes, with certain pants/shoes combinations, the line from my shin to my foot).

Today as I shed my shirt, I worried for a second about the possibility of running into someone else on the path. This doesn't happen very often, even less so after three trees block the path at various points after a storm some weeks past, but still... The intrustion of the human convention into my sacred grove is bad enough, but the added worry of having a slightly (but visibly, today) different body, makes me contract, sometimes painfully. I didn't worry much, though; it's later than the usual lunch crowd, and threatening an afternoon thunderstorm: silly me. Turning the first blind curve, I saw an office guy down the path, and panicked. I slipped my shirt back on, casually glancing to the sky as if, maybe, the possibility of rain made this make sense. The dumpy guy looked uncomfortable, so I aggressively seized on that, made eye contact early, and grunted out a flat, "How's it going?" in my best imitation of that guy-mode delivery that makes it a declarative statement that can't be answered, rather than a question. As he shuffled past nervously, I hated myself for the awkward cowardice, and the almost bullying act on my part. Still, I made my way to my usual bench, unclothed a bit, and started to read.

Ten minutes later, the same guy shuffles around the corner, and there's no way I can cover up quickly without it being painfully obvious. "Fuck it", I say to myself, and just sit there reading. It didn't make up for my earlier act, but there was something about not hiding or visibly flinching, even if it was situationally spurred. I finished my chapter and grudgingly headed back to the office, full of conflicting feelings that didn't cancel themselves out.
adrienmundi: (Default)
On the whole, I feel like I'm getting stronger. Most of the time, I think this is a good thing, but it certainly makes the urge to smack people (phorically or metaphorically) seem more dangerous.

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