hello.

when i was in ninth grade, my world history teacher had us create a poem "in praise of" ourselves. the format was supposedly taken from African tribal culture, from the rituals of claiming adulthood. we were to compare ourselves to an animal or object, something swift or powerful, something majestic (think: cheetah, gazelle, the ocean at night, Emmett Smith at the peak of his career with the Dallas Cowboys). each poem began with the following words: 'here i am, a XXX."

i remember watching my nearest neighbors--a popular sophomore class leader and a baseball player--quickly dash something off to satisfy the assignment. for some, this was an easy exercise. for those who loved high school, who felt young and powerful and lithe and free, who thought these just might be the best years of their lives--well "here i am, a cheetah" indeed.

my problem was that i was the new kid and i felt about as powerful and free as a speck of sand being yanked back and forth by the tides of that old ocean at night.

it didn't help that when my teacher asked what i thought i might compare myself to, i told him the truth. a tea cup. and then he proceeded to sing i'm a little tea pot with hand motions in front of the whole class.

starting to blog reminds me a little bit of that old assignment. there are people out in bloggy-blog world who know themselves already, who can speak with an authority that i find hard to claim. and yet, i find myself clearing my throat to add my voice to the throng of women who have found a place from which to speak.

here i am, i guess i am saying. again.

more than a decade later, i'm still a tea cup. still a little bit ordinary and a little bit fragile. still ready to pour myself out.

wonder if you ever really change?