Pride is a sin, I know. My great-grandmother reminded me of that all the time. Anytime I get ready to feel the tiniest bit proud of something, I shrink back and say, “No, it’s okay if I don’t say anything.”
This year has been ridiculously absurd and strange, like some alternate reality or prequel to a dystopian novel. Among all this weirdness, I have managed to be productive IN SPITE of the state of things. In spite of quarantine depression. In spite of regular depression. In spite of anxiety multiplied by 100. In spite of being considered “non-essential.” In spite of everything, I still created.
As I reviewed the number of works I had made this year – fully expecting it to be a smaller number than normal – I realized I had created 178 unique works of art. More than 40 of those were self portraits.
I also self-published two books. The first in May and the second just now. (No really, I hit the publish button about an hour ago.)
The first, a collection of FaceTime portraits and interviews about how quarantine has changed us.
The second, poems and underwater images about trauma and healing.
So while pride is a sin, I am indeed somewhat prideful in the light of my accomplishments in spite of 2020. I never claimed it was going to be “my year” but I had set goals for myself and I accomplished most of those.
I won’t claim 2021 as mine, either. Years can’t belong to any one or any thing. It’s up to us as a collective group of humans to make them livable.
Hope your 2021 is a good year. Let’s all be good humans.
Somebody's Daydream 