In the remaining weeks before the USA’s, I ran at dawn and then again at dusk. I had a routine: run one time around the block of apartment buildings on my side of a major street, which constitutes phases one and two, and then cross the street and run around the entire section of phases three and four of the same complex. Most of the apartments have multiple windows. Seeing that I live along a corner of the building, I personally have three windows in the living room, French doors in the dining room, one in the kitchen, and a sliding glass door in the bedroom. I try desperately to remember to close most of them, but there are moments when I find myself in various stages of undress as I meander into the dining room or living room and then realize, “oops.” Most likely, the same occurs for others in this complex because, for the second time this year, I discovered another naked person.

It’s not as though I’m on a hunt for them either. There I was, 6:30 in the morning, sun beginning to make its daily trek towards the top of the sky, my legs on fire, my iPod blaring (by the way, it’s broken now, and I’m utterly devastated, but more on that later), and my eyes wandering. I’m a voyeur, I guess. I like to observe, and I look to do it unnoticed—incognito, if you will. You get a true feel for someone’s features, choices, mood, etc. And so, in my state of observation (and general nosiness), I peered into window after window, opened blinds after opened blinds, and there, before me, was a naked woman applying make up at her bathroom counter, of which I could see through the French door with the open blinds that led into the living room, which led into the bathroom with the light on and the door open. Her view from the living room was that of brush and trees—no buildings—so there was no reason to close the blinds when the sky was still dark and the lights were on inside. What freedom, huh? To walk around naked in the privacy of your home and not be concerned with others poking their noses in your business (except for crazy runners like me who happen to charge by while the moon is still in the sky).

My site is kind of like that, in a way. Here I am. Naked for you to read and observe. Even when I’m not aware of your presence, you might still be there, peering in my windows and seeing what you can catch a glimpse of. Sometimes I mean for you to see things, and other times, I reveal much more between the lines than the average passerby is aware of. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel a need to do all-out nudes for my galleries. My words reveal my nakedness. I bare much of my mind. I bare much of my soul. Must I bare my body completely too?

See, if I were to ever meet the naked man from across the street or learn the name and occupation of the naked woman in that apartment along my run, then the image in my mind would change and the impact would lessen. The mystery allows the memory to remain just as it came in…with a bit of awe, shock, and general appreciation for the human form. So maybe, if I too revealed all, whether it is mind, body, or soul, then I would lessen the impact I might have on you. I guess what I’m saying is that when I disappear for a few days or a few weeks or when I don’t allow that piece of fabric to fall from my breast or when I don’t share what I did on a Friday night, don’t be disappointed. Instead rejoice in the curiosity you may feel and appreciate the suspense you may experience. It’s only fair as I don’t know all there is to know about my readers and viewers either, and I don’t know that I’d want to. Some things are better left unsaid and hidden.

Then again, maybe I'm assuming too much, and you don't even notice when I'm gone or when I don't display a nipple. Or am I assuming too much there as well?

Jodi