YOM KIPPUR

I mean here's the thing. I appreciate taking the time to "atone," and reflect on the previous year and what you did and how you would change.

I'm all about reflection.

And sure, it's cool that the Jewish faith gives you this week where you can get your apologies in quick so that your bad deeds won't get marked against you. And yea, the clause for the apology is that it must be done in sincerity.

But, like, isn't that a little messed up?

Because what if I don't want to forgive you? What if I have spent this whole year in misery, but because you decide last minute to apologize, I have to forgive you for your HORRIBLE actions?

BECAUSE THAT'S THE DEAL ... If someone comes to you and apologizes you have to forgive them. Or else, let's face it, that will be your bad deed going in the book.

So instead this year.

Don't even bother apologizing.

BECAUSE APPARENTLY I NEED TO FORGIVE YOU ANYWAYS.

SO...

Happy Yom Kippur.

Don't f*&* up next year like you did this one ;)

Who am I?

For a very long time people have called me Mim.

Most likely I have introduced myself to you as "Mim."

And then went into a long awkward explanation that went something like

"Not Ma'am, Mim. It's short for Miriam. Like Mad Madam Mim. From 'The Sword and the Stone?' No. Like, MIMS. Music Is My Savior. But instead MIM."

Usually by now, my face is so red, my armpits so sweaty, and the other person so disinterested that I don't continue on; and I just hope that my nickname made me look cooler than my real name.

Not that my real name is so terrible. Miriam. It's nice actually. Not so common in this generation. Because it makes you sound like a grandmother. Who likes to knit. And is sometimes grouchy. But always has candy.

It's just in middle school my friend Sara and I started replacing our r's with w's and Miwiam sounds stupid. So she called me Mim.

As it turns out, it is a pretty common nickname for people named Miriam. I thought I was unique.

As a child I was told by my father that nicknames were not allowed. Your name is your name. I would not be called "Mimi" and my sister would not be called "Tammy." Because these were in actuality names. Other people's names. Nicknames from our names, but in actuality "real names." (ya' follow?). But, Mim, for some reason was allowed to pass.

For years now that is what people have called me. They have variations on it: Mim, Mimzer, Mimtastic, Mimsical, Mimalicious, Mims, and Mimjob (which my old manager called me, out of the utmost love, but rhymes with something that need not be mentioned in my blog).

But now I am coming to a crossroads in my life. I am trying to become an adult. Or rather take myself seriously. Or rather. Be Something. Or rather. Be Someone.

And I don't know who I want to be.

Miriam or Mim?

And I know you are saying, "Hey Mimiriam, you are both. They are one in the same." But that's not true. It can't be true. Because you are different when you are Richard and Dick. And Liz and Elizabeth. And Miriam and Mim.

I remember as a child thinking that I wanted to give my own kids names that had the most potential for fun nicknames. They would have so many great options of what people could call them. Options are annoying. It means there is an element of choice and freedom. Gross.

Mim or Miriam. Miriam or Mim. Or I could just go as Chana, my middle name and call it a day. Except that only 1.2% of the population could properly pronounce the CH and I would be constantly explaining how to make that noise and would probably develop a very severe throat disorder.

You tell me.

Mim or Miriam?