back in the U.S.S.R. you don't know how lucky you are boy

(The Beatles)

One big confession, my first of 2011. I'm turning 27 in two months. Not the confession. The confession is that the older I get, the more my rebellions have contracted. I no longer kiss strangers or drive too fast in the middle of the night or even fully express my road rage. I don't eat cookies for breakfast. I avoid getting into political debates on Facebook and Twitter. I bite my tongue. I try to be graceful about constantly being exposed to other people's bullshit.

In the parking garage yesterday, I accidentally cut someone off. She was not happy about it. She raised her eyebrows and totally mouthed something at me. And I... I stuck my tongue out at her. Because I am all of five years old, apparently. It was... pathetic, really. But it was also probably the most responsible response I could have mustered. I'm sure my uber-Christian workplace wouldn't appreciate me giving the finger to a co-worker.

Responsible. But unsatisfying, to be sure. So I have my tiny rebellions. I paint my toenails neon purple and wear sandals to work. I sign petitions. I listen to my music too loudly. In short, I have reverted to being 16. It doesn't really sit well with me all the time. I'm a fighter by nature and sometimes, even though I know it's best not to, not fighting or speaking up or giving that lady the finger... makes me feel like a hypocrite or a failure or that I've sold out to the man.

But you know... grace or patience or some other virtue that I'm trying to possess.