Happy Single Awareness Day!

I could very easily use this post to rant about the stupid things said on Twitter about Chancellor Phyllis Wise. In fact, I typed up an entire mock-up post raging against the ignorance I observed on campus, both through social media and micro-aggressions years before this trauma reared it’s ugly head.

Perhaps another day when I’m feeling extra feisty.

I’m in between a lot of things right now. Finishing up college and waiting on Fulbright. Transitioning out of parental sheltering and into the reality that is independent living. On two liberal arts and science degrees? That takes cajones, even for those of us who call the humanities our home. Corporate or academia or homeless? Soulless or soulful? I’m in the midst of finishing a thesis I’m hoping will breathe fire into literary criticism, in the best of ways. On the opposite side of the spectrum, I’m desperately willing it not to flop. In terms of dancing, I’m smack dab in the middle of getting my creativity and technique rebooted….while also not venting my frustration at anything that moves or simply exists, including the ice in our driveway. (Honestly though, CPM, take care of that safety hazard). 

Kind of exhausting, in between a rock and a hard place. Actually, it’s kind of fantastic. It’s not like falling off a precipice but undergoing well-planned mountain climbing. The terror still creeps up but in a measured way. In a “I could die, but it’s relatively unlikely” feeling. 

For that reason, perhaps because I am moving on from so many avenues and so many feats of the familiar, I find myself more untethered. For better or worse, my honesty bursts forth. Some might call it abject bluntness. Whatever it is, the harshness is refreshing. Gritty, difficult to swallow but facing it head on is what I’ve been wanting for so long. No more brushing aside comments I long ago hid away. Perhaps it is opening Pandora’s box, but hope still remains. 

I’m not going to pretend I’m not scared. There have been nights where I literally cry out to God, tears filling in the blanks where words fail. There have been moments in class where I feel ashamed talking about race or injustice, simply because of the sardonic looks I get in return. However, I’m not going to stop being vulnerable. As Ai Wei Wei says in Never Sorry, maybe bravery is a sort of fragility.

So yes, I’m in-between security and insecurity, giving into consent or refusing to compromise. Whatever I do, I refuse to back down from what I believe God calls me to do. That could mean challenging people I’ve long tolerated or even loved. Not in a sense of self-righteousness, but questioning the reason behind things.

I’ve done some really sucky things and will probably continuing doing sucky things. How ever much people call me a sinner, that I know, God calls me to be a saint. That’s all that matter. In the in-between, the doubt and the frustration where I cannot even call my body home, at least I know someone has a place for me.





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