Pocahontas

My middle bro came to visit this weekend, and we had a great time.  Growing up, I was the quintessential bossy big sister.  I would always tell my brothers what to do, since I was always right and in charge, and I would always snitch on them.  Yeah, I was that big sister.  It's cool that we're adults now and can enjoy each others' company as friends.

Since we're adults and friends, we talk about things that adults and friends talk about . . . like relationships.

Middle bro is a good guy.  He's a nice-looking guy and has a lot going for him, so it would be easy for someone like him to be a player.  But he isn't.  He's a solid guy trying to stay on the straight and narrow who truly wants a godly woman.  And perhaps there's a situation on the horizon.  While I'm grateful he feels cool enough with me to confide in me, in a way, he has confirmed some male patterns I've noticed.

Here's the first thing he confirmed: "But what if Pocahontas comes along?"

This is what I don't get.  Why would you be willing to let go of something good, godly, beautiful, tangible and real in order to hold out for something imaginary?  I won't say non-existent.  Who knows?  Maybe Pocahontas is sauntering around out there, in her brown, Indian princess glory and long, flowing hair.  But for all intents and purposes, she only exists in your mind.  In addition, you don't even know what it is, concretely, about Pocahontas that you feel would do it for you.  I mean, Pocahontas is stunning, but even you admit that the real life woman is also beautiful and that you're attracted to her.  But aside from looks, you have a real life connection with the real life woman on a deeper level.  Besides, even if Pocahontas were to show up one day, who's to say she would even want to have anything to do with you?

I actually said that last line, and he laughed.  Because he knew I was right.  Just like when we were younger.

Here's the second, oh-so-male thing he confirmed:  "I don't know . . . I mean, I guess if somebody else tried to talk to her, I'd get jealous, but . . . I don't know."

Really, guys?  I say if you know you'd get jealous if someone else tried to talk to her, then you do know.  I guess for some, the prospect of "somebody else" is what it has to take.

I love middle bro, though.  I know the kid is trying to figure it out.  The prospect of making a decision, not wanting to make the wrong one, not wanting to possibly hurt someone or get hurt yourself is scary.  I get it.  But if you're going to indefinitely postpone dealing with it and going for it and taking that chance, justifying it to yourself by using "Pocahontas" as an excuse, it's time to grow up.

Rolling On, Moving On

You're singing with a broken string
Tell me what you really mean
Do you know what you want?
While beating up on yesterday
I was on my rollerblades
Rolling on, moving on

Dear Gov. Jan Brewer

Dear Gov. Jan Brewer,

First of all, who told you it was okay to point your finger in the President of the United States' face?  Really? You are officially, certifiably off the chain.

Look, I don't care what you agreed with or disagreed with on what he had to say about how you portrayed him in your book.  Are you serious?  What's the matter with you?

Pointing your finger in someone's face is the height of disrespect.  I wish you had a grandma who would tell you to go get a switch off the tree in the backyard so she could tear your tail up for what you did.  The kind of grandma who, once you started carrying on, would say, "You better stop that crying 'fore I give you something to cry about."  Aw, shucks.  You don't know nothin bout that.  Else you would have thought twice about sticking your finger in the president's face.

That was mad rude.  Mad unnecessary and uncalled for.  Mad audacious.  Agree with him or not, Barack Obama is the President of the United States of America.  Do you know what that means?  It means he holds the most powerful, influential office in the world.  Whether or not you agree with the man, at least have the decency to respect his office.

I am so glad he walked away from you mid-sentence. Old disrespectful, publicity craving . . . and CNN's John King caught you dead in your contradictory ridiculousness.  You need to sit down, Gov. Jan Brewer.  Sit ALLAWAY down.

Sincerely,

Me

Insignificant, Nerdy Things

Every single time I've been nervous, worried, hesitant, or unmotivated about anything I've needed to do lately, but just kept plugging through, God has allowed me to sail through it.  Every time.

These are little things that don't really matter/make sense to anyone else, but I feel compelled to enumerate them.

1. Last semester, I wrote a paper to present at a conference aside from all of my other work.  I was so nervous about it, afraid that I wasn't going to be able to finish it in time.  Not only did I finish it, when I presented it, I got a lot of positive feedback and compliments about my work and presentation.

2. Last semester, there was a first draft of a paper I had to write.  There was no way I was going to have the draft done (in part, due to the work I put in to the above mentioned conference paper), but I wrote what I could and summarized the rest of my main points, praying that it wouldn't decimate my grade.  I made a 100 on it.

3. Yesterday, I didn't even get close to finishing the Cortes letters, much less the critical article.  I HATE being unprepared for class.  It just makes me feel like a horrible person and makes me not even want to go.  I know it's an insignificant, nerdy thing to most people, but I really despise the times that I'm in that position.  But I went anyway, sat up front as normal, and it was fine.  I was still able to participate as usual and everything.  Not once did I feel put on the spot.  

4. Yesterday, I also had to complete some additional training for my side job and part of the training was to give an introductory sales pitch of sorts.  I am totally not a sales person and even though I'm a teacher, public speaking still makes me nervous.  I didn't practice as much as I'd wanted to, and I was really nervous about my training session.  But I did what I could and it went over just fine. I even got a compliment about a little personal analogy I included.

I need to chill out.  I need to relax.  Just do what I can, continue to do what I'm doing, and let God handle the rest.

Something I still struggle with is the idea that I'm going to be left out there.  That one day, God (well, God wouldn't do this so, not Him, I guess) or people, or some intangible force is going to wash its hands of me and be like, "Okay, I'm done.  Now you're on your own.  Go ahead.  You figure it out."  I have to recognize this idea for the lie that it is, and keep going.  I have to continue to shut out images of the finality of a cold, dreary world and know that I'm going to be fine.  This thing is a process, and I have to get comfortable with the fact that it always will be.

I Don't Want/I Want

I Don't Want
to read 100 pages of letters Hernan Cortes wrote.  Thanks a lot, you pompous conquistador. Not only did you decimate the Aztec, centuries later, you're making poor Hispanic Studies students like me have to read your overblown, Eurocentric, gold-obsessed ramblings.  Did you have to write that much?  

I Want
Newt Gingrich to win the Republican nomination.  Not because I think he'll be disastrous to the Republican party and Obama will be a shoo-in.  Naw.  No matter who the Republican nominee is, Obama is going to have to campaign as well as or better than he did the first time around.  He doesn't have the same enthusiasm propelling him forward like he did in 2008, and swing voters are always finicky.  I want Newt Gingrich to win because I want Obama to shut him down.  I would enjoy seeing Obama just poke a tiny hole in him and watch him utterly deflate.  I want Obama to slice and dice him with such skill and precision that he doesn't even feel it and doesn't realize he's been cut completely up until he tries to take a step forward and just falls to pieces.  It's because I have zero sympathy for him, in part because he is resorting to the worst tactics ever to whip up a frenzy of support.  And so far (in South Carolina, at least) it's working.

Like, last time, even though John McCain was an old, unexciting, erratic curmudgeon and went from being a buck-the-system maverick to a dyed-in-the-wool establishment proponent, I still had a smidgen of sympathy for him.  Poor old guy, you know?  His party did him dirty back in 2000.  Old boy was just trying to make his mark.

Even Romney, robotic, awkward, political chameleon, I have sympathy for.  At least he's a faithful family man.  I wouldn't enjoy seeing him get owned by Obama.  It would be embarrassing and awkward and just uncomfortable.  I'm not the type that gets enjoyment out of uncomfortable, embarrassing things.  Like, when Rick Perry had his "oops" moment, it was unbelievable, but not funny.  Like, I couldn't laugh because it was so sad.  That's how I would feel during an Obama/Romney debate, for example.

But Gingrich.  He's got such an amazing amount of audacity, it's mind-boggling.  I would love to see him go head to head with Obama and see how fast the bluster gets knocked out of him.  I would say that he needs to go saddown somewhere, but he's going to need someone to sit him down.  Yup.

Now That I Know

I don't feel any different.  I don't.  I don't really look that different.  Seriously, sometimes people think I'm 10 years younger than I am when they first meet me and I tell them I'm going to school here. "So, are you a freshman?" Um . . . They don't realize it until I tell them what I'm doing/what I've done and then feel compelled to ask (despite its social impoliteness of being asked of a woman) "How old are you?"

It's taken me this long to know it for myself.  It's not that I've never known it or conceived of it.  It's not that I never had glimpses of it. It's just that my grasp on it was always tenuous.  I'd let it slip away so easily.  Now, my hold on it is firmer than it's ever been.  I believe it now.  That's what's different.

Sometimes I'm embarrassed about how long it's taken.  Like, if I had just known it for myself then . . . but then I realize it's foolish to think that way.  I know that if I hadn't not known it then, I wouldn't have a distinguishable, mature, firm grasp on it now.  As much as it hurt then, in a way, I had to go through it.  I had to go through it for my firm grasp, for my gratefulness, my realization of God's sovereignty.

What's changed is that I finally realize my worth.  That's what I finally have a grasp on.  My worth.  I finally possess this knowledge, and it's bittersweet.  It took a long time, I lost a lot, and I subjected myself to a lot because I hadn't always believed it.  I hadn't always believed that I was valuable.  That I was worth it.  But now that I know . . . I have to keep believing it.  I have to never allow it to slip from my grasp again.

Here's what allows me to move forward: I can't expect anyone else to know my worth until I know it for myself.  I can't expect anyone else to value me unless I know that I'm valuable.  And now that I know . . .

This is what He wanted me to see.  It's what I had to see.  This is a puzzle piece that looked fuzzy, and now is clear.  It fits.  Now that I know, the next piece has a place to fit.

Palimpsest

Sitting here trying to get some reading done.  Aargh!  I'm so easily distracted.

When I read and come across words I don't know, I feel that it's a justifiable distraction because even though I get off track with reading when I stop to look the word up, I'm still learning something new.  It's a win-win.

I'm really digging the word 'palimpsest' right now.  It basically refers to a reused parchment back in the day, but it's also used in the context of something having diverse layers or aspects.

I mean, I fancy myself a writer of sorts, and my identity is definitely comprised of diverse layers.

People are uncomfortable with what they can't easily define.  We want things to be familiar, recognizable.  We want to pinpoint it, categorize it, box it up and put a label on it so that we can be sure.  But what about when we can't?  Ooh, you want to put your finger on it so badly, but you can't.  That Oh, okay moment never arrives.  Some things elude boxes and labels and fingertips.  And we have to be able to live with it.  I'm finally feeling okay about living with it for myself.

Where are you from?
Oh . . . well, where are your parents from?
But you don't have an accent . . .
Then, why are you so light-skinned?
Oh, Spanish?  So are you, like, is your family . . . ?
Are you sure there's no one in your family who's like . . . ?
French?  But I thought you were studying Spanish . . .
Do you always wear skirts?
The guitar?  But I thought you played the piano . . .
You listen to that kind of music?
What church do you go to?
What's 'Apostolic'?
You went to Alabama, then Auburn and now Georgia?
So, what do plan to do with a PhD?
Don't you want to get married and stuff?
Are you seeing anyone?
So, what do you do for fun?
How do you get your hair to do that?
You eat that?
Oh, so you must be one of those __________. (Nope.)
Oh, so you must want to be  ____________. (Nope.)

I'm not either/or.  I'm and/yet.  Palimpsest. Look it up, categorophiles.  Palimpsest.  If you really want to know, then you must know that labels don't do it justice.  If you really want to know, then you must know that uncovering layers takes time.

MLK Day

I'm pretty sure I have posts in other years on other MLK Days with the exact same title.  Because I'm just bursting with originality.

I don't want to talk about the dream and whether it's been realized or whether it's still in process.  This is what I know: That when I hear Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s voice ring out, I get chillbumps.  His voice is the epitome of raw, palpable conviction.  His voice is that gut feeling when you just know.

Last night at church, something was said that stuck with me.  That I know I need to know:

How can you expect God to fill you up when you're not willing to empty yourself?  How can you expect God to give you what you desire when you're not willing to give up what you're holding on to?

I want to let go of those things that are riddled with me so that I can be prepared to receive God's best.

When I Was Sixteen vs. Now

When I was sixteen, I would take a dumb handsome guy over a smart ugly one, hands down.  Now, I couldn't tolerate a dumb handsome one for too long and am much more open to smart uglies.

When I was sixteen, I thought turning thirty was waaay, far off.  That by that time I'd be all established, maybe slightly hunched over from age.  Definitely married with kids.  Now . . . I laugh at my sixteen-year-old self SO hard.

When I was sixteen, I had very low self esteem and was extremely insecure.  I internalized everything.  I dramatized everything.  I wanted to fit in so badly.  Now, I am so much more confident in who I am, and know that I don't have to fit in.  In fact, now I wonder if I even want to.

When I was sixteen, I thought I wanted to live in a foreign country forever.  Now, after traveling to and living in a few foreign countries, I know that I would always want to come back home.

When I was sixteen, I used to think that all decisions were etched in stone.  I thought that once a decision was made, there was no room for revision, that everything was do or die.  Now, I know that changing your mind or quitting or starting something new or trying something else or starting something over or realizing it works better another way is life, plain and simple.

When I was sixteen, I thought that one day I'd figure it out.  That one day, I would have this magic moment and it would all come clear.  Now, I realize that I won't ever have a magic moment.  Things will never come clear all at once.  It making sense depends on trust, and things are revealed in fragments, in pieces that fit together in surprising ways.

Lemon Ginger

I go through tea phases.  The pendulum normally swings between Earl Grey and chai.  When I was in France I was a cinnamon orangeaphile.  I went through a time of honey chamomile when I was at Auburn.  Every once in a while I'll careen off into some blackberry/raspberry/blueberry concoction.

But when I get into lemon ginger mode . . . aw, shucks! It's on then, son.  When my tastebuds get a hankering for some lemon ginger tea . . . it means something's about to go down.  It means I'm kicking it into high gear.

See, that lemon is lemony and zingy.  And that ginger is pungent and spicy.  When I take a sip, it's like, wake up, let's go, let's do this, get up, get pumpin and jumpin. When you want to be chill and cozy, you drink the usual mellow tea fare.  But when it's time to rock it, lemon ginger, hands down.

(SN: This is a letter I wrote breaking up with chai when I first discovered lemon ginger a few years ago.)

Not a Goodbye Girl

Heading back to Georgia this morning.

There are many things I am, but there are a few things I'm not, and one of them is a goodbye girl.

Doesn't matter.  Did I love the place, did I hate the place, do I want to stay, am I ready to go, is my time to leave obligatory or voluntary.  Doesn't matter.  I'm not a goodbye girl.

Give me an optimistic spark and I'll burn the candle down.  Oh, sunshine, sunflowers, guitar music, cute, cozy things, my sudden, ebullient laugh.  But want to shut it down?  Concoct a goodbye and serve it to me on a plate.

This is what makes it:  A dreary morning like today and a road trip ahead.  Want to seal the deal?  Throw in some melancholy British folk rock.  Then it's a wrap.

Rock That Mohawk (well, Faux-hawk)

I got my hair done in a faux-hawk (faux, since I didn't actually get the sides of my head shaved) and on the way out of the salon, my stylist was like, "You can rock that."

Little did she know that rockin' it was my New Year's resolution!  You heard me, 2012.  Didn't I say I was gonna rock it, son?

This Sunflower Day

It's 69 degrees in January.  What that means is that I can go outside in ballet flats and a sunflower in my hair.  Even a little girl at Starbucks noticed.  "You have a flower."  Yes.  Yes, I do.

Trusting God Means Letting Go

During these last few days before I head back to school for another round of action, I've been very . . . I guess the word is 'contemplative.'  What have I learned?  What does God want me to see?

Sometimes we hear the uber-Christian term "let go" in reference to past hurts, guilt, unforgiveness, bitterness, or whatever negative thing you're harboring that's holding you back from a deeper relationship with God. These are all things which need to be "let go" of, right?

But I posit that "letting go" means letting go of positive things as well.  Specifically, letting go of the hope of something still somehow happening the way you wanted it to after God has closed the door.

Even if whatever it is you desired was something perfectly natural and godly.  Even if you are, deep down inside, convinced that the door closing was somehow a mistake.  Even if you feel, with conviction, that the situation was custom made for you.  It had your name written all over it.  How could it not be?  Even if you know that, without a doubt, you would have made a significant contribution, you would have made it work, you would have excelled, you would have been fulfilled, you would have rocked it, had it just worked out.

But it didn't work out.  God closed the door.  And now you have to let it go.

Does God closing the door mean that He'll never open it again?  Not necessarily.  There are lots of reasons God closes doors.  Maybe the timing was off.  Maybe you weren't mature enough.  Maybe He is still preparing you.  I know of situations where God closed a door for a certain amount of time, but opened the same door later.  For all intents and purposes, God can do anything.

However, I still feel that once God has closed a door, your next move should be to allow that particular hope, concerning that particular situation, to die.  Maybe a better way to put it is that you should return it to Him.

It's quite easy to hold out for a deus ex machina of sorts to suddenly appear and right it all.  It's tempting to say that you're moving on in theory, but in practice, you're still hanging on to the possibility that maybe, perhaps, one day . . . still, I say your only recourse is to simply let it go.

Continuing to hold on to the hope after God has already made it clear that it's not to be, is really another way of not trusting Him.  I believe that once you accept things on God's terms, you show that you truly are relinquishing control of your hopes and entrusting them once again into His hands.  You communicate that you believe that He knows best, that He knows what He's doing, that He knows every intricacy of your hopes and dreams and that since you are His child, He has your best interest at heart.  Whether He opens the same door later or never is beside the point.  You trust Him.  And trusting God means letting go.

Kindle vs. iPad: My Theory on How God Does Stuff

I wanted an iPad.  I knew my brother was going to get me an iPad (because he has money and he does stuff like that).  Even when those Amazon boxes showed up at the house, I still convinced myself that they were iPads (one for me and one for my mom).

But on Christmas day, I discovered that it was a Kindle.  A (selfish, ungrateful) part of me was like, "Boy, I said I wanted an iPad!"  But the reasonable, conciliatory side of me was like, "Girl, chill out," and I explored my Kindle and saw what it had to offer.  I totally love it, even though it isn't what I (thought I) wanted.  It does everything that I expected I would want to do on an iPad.  Of course, I know there are lots of things that an iPad does that a Kindle doesn't do, but once I fell in love with my Kindle, it didn't matter.

I would like to offer the wanting-an-iPad-getting-a-Kindle phenomenon as an analogy for what God does sometimes.  You're dead set on something.  You just have to have it.  You pray fervently for it.  "God, please give me X." Then you find that God gives you Y.  And at first you're like, "But God, I asked for X," and you're disappointed because it wasn't what you expected it to be.

Some people stay in that disappointment mode over Y and refuse to enjoy life outside of their predetermined expectations.  If it isn't the way you imagined it, then it's not really what you wanted, and you can't enjoy it or get fulfillment out of it.

But other people accept Y and explore what it has to offer, even though it's not what they anticipated.  Once they embrace Y as is and decide to enjoy life with the Y God is offering them, guess what they discover?  That Y really is X, just not in the way they thought.  They realize that they'd rather have Y that actually is X than their predetermined notion of how X should have been because they're so in love with Y that it doesn't matter.

The Word says that God will give us our heart's desire if we take delight in Him (Psalm 37:4).  I trust that He knows what my heart's desire is.  My heart's desire has a title, but it also has a soul, an essence.  I think it's possible to get the purest essence of your heart's desire and be completely fulfilled, even if it doesn't come bundled in the package of a certain title.  In other words, it's possible to be completely fulfilled with a Kindle, even though it isn't an iPad.  It won't happen, though, unless you're willing to completely let go of your predetermined notion of how happy an iPad would have made you.

Are you still pining away for X when Y is staring you dead in the face, begging to be embraced? People are so afraid that if they take Y up on its offer that they are settling for less when in fact, that couldn't be further from the truth.  God wants you to trust him on Y even though it might not be X in title, and then in the end, well, you might be surprised.

Southern Things I Do and Say

I was born in the South, as a matter of fact.  In Biloxi, Mississippi.  But when I was six, we moved to Italy and didn't come back to the States until I was almost 12.  My speech accentless, my psychosis for college football undeveloped, my mindset unracialized, and my new hometown Montgomery, Alabama, people began to ask me the question that has haunted me ever since: "Where are you from?"

How do I answer?  I teeter between telling my life story and just saying "Montgomery."  Because if I do the former, people might think, "Um, I didn't ask you all of that," but if I say the latter, people stand there looking at me with eyes that don't believe it and have a hunch there's more to the story.  The ones who can't let it go usually end up asking me, "Where are your parents from?" And then I teeter between going ahead with the life story and blurting out, "The ghetto in Philly."

Despite my "proper talkin'" ways, there are still some Southern mannerisms I have acquired:

1. Drinking sweet tea with lemon.  Once you get north of the Mason-Dixon line, it's pretty much unheard of.  Another fun-fact: You know you're at a "fancy" restaurant in the South if they don't offer sweet tea.  In those cases, they only have unsweet and you have to sweeten it yourself with packets of sugar.  But all sweet tea aficionados know that you can't sweeten cold unsweetened tea for real.  All the sugar granules just settle at the bottom.  Boo.

2. Addressing children and a few female friends with names like "sweetie," "sweetheart," and "babe."  That (as well as referring to myself in the 3rd person) was at its worst when I taught elementary school: "Sweetheart, didn't Miss Smith just ask you to put the crayons away?  Thank you, babe."

3. Using the adjective 'sweet' to mean 'nice' or 'thoughtful' or 'polite.'

4. Using the adjective 'ugly' instead of 'rude.' (i.e. "Yeah, she was really ugly on the phone.")

5. Saying "How do you figure (that)?" instead of "What makes you think that?"

6. Saying "How about" instead of "What if"  or "Why don't  . . . " (i.e. "How about we go to the mall and just eat at the Food Court?")

7. Addressing all adults older than me as "Ma'am" and "Sir."  Sometimes, if someone says something to me and I didn't hear or understand them, instead of saying, "Excuse me, what did you say?" or some such thing, I'll simply say, "Ma'am?" or "Sir?" in an interrogative tone.  Just that one word in a certain tone of voice communicates "Would you please repeat what you just said?" in the most polite and Southern of ways.  The funny thing is that I didn't grow up talking to my parents that way, so I never address them that way, but in the South all children who were "brought up right" address all adults, as well as their parents, that way.

8. Expecting men to hold the door for me.  Those who don't weren't brought up right.

9. Nodding my head as a greeting/acknowledgement to a male stranger.  Like if I'm passing by you and you're looking me dead in the face and I don't feel like saying anything and I plan to keep walking, I'll give you a demure nod and keep it moving.

10. Saying, "You're fine," in response to someone who thinks they are in my way/being a bother. Like if I'm in the aisle at WalMart and someone starts to scurry away because they think they're blocking me or whatever, I calmly say, "No, you're fine," so that they'll know they don't have to move for my sake.

Anyway, I'm sure I could think of a few more, but it's sort of fun to consider the Southerness I've managed to acquire despite myself.

2012: Rock It.

Imagine you're on your Kindle or your iPad or whatever mobile device with a touch screen and you're looking at the beginning of 2012 dead on.  Then you use your fingers to zoom the image out so that you can see part of 2009, 2010 and 2011 as well.  Here's what you'd probably be able to see on my timeline:

End of 2009-2010: Dug yourself into a spiritually and emotionally bereft hole.

2011: Began gradually emerging out of the hole by making explicitly better decisions until you were totally out, thanks to God's grace and mercy, and went on to a place where God confirmed you were back on track.

Now, at the beginning of 2012, I am filled with gratitude.  Just pure thankfulness for God's grace, mercy, love, provision and leading.  I am still learning how to trust Him.  But I can honestly say that in this past year, I have trusted Him more than I ever have before.  At times, I still struggle with that maddening feeling that creeps up when you realize that you're still in a world inhabited by unknowns, you're still looking down at that churning ocean of uncertainty.  I've learned to still it through worship, by continually turning it over to Him, refusing to pick the burden back up.  It's not yours.  It was never yours to begin with.

This is what I have begun to accept about the uncertainty: It will always be there to some degree.  My brain thinks since there are still some biggies I'm uncertain about, that once those are settled, it'll be all good.  Oh, brain.  I know why you think that, but it just isn't true.  The realization that I'm going to always have to refuse to pick that burden back up is finally starting to sink in.

This is how I want to see the uncertainty: Like it's Christmas or my birthday.  Like my life is littered with a wealth of surprises that I get to open up.  Some of them will be just what I asked for.  Some of them will be less exciting.  Others, I may wish I had the receipt for to take back immediately.  But they're all for me, God-given, and for my good.  I want to bask in the uncertainty.  What does He have for me next?  Waiting for it with expectation, living in it with abandon.

This is what I want to be able to do:  Rock it.  Not just steel myself, passively waiting for whatever to descend upon me and then amble along, keeping a stiff upper lip.  I want to be able to rock it. When I say rock it, I mean, give it my best, confidently getting in there and giving it my all.  When I say rock it, I mean enjoy it, living in the freedom God has always offered me.  When I say rock it, I mean embrace it, accepting it for what it is and thanking God for it.  Doing it and doing it well.  Living it and living it with flair.  Knowing it and knowing it with confidence.

That's my New Year's Resolution.  I will rock it.  I will rock this PhD program.  I will rock turning 30 in a few months.  I will rock whatever hairstyle I don.  I will rock my quirky t-shirts.  I will rock being single for now.  Whatever I do, whatever comes my way, whatever state I'm in, I want to be able to rock it.

Come on, God.  Surprise me.