The Class of Dimes

When speaking, what we do - or don't do - with our hands is significant. Are you an all-hands-on-deck communicator? Or do you prefer to let your words do all the talking? I'm definitely the former. Even as I sit in my apartment, noshing on cookie dough and writing this blog post, my fingers have the urge to flee the keyboard and gesture wildly in the air.

Silly, I know. 

In high school, did you and your friends have a sign y'all threw up in the air at pep rallies and graduation? We did.  Class of '06.  Pretty standard double-handed zero and six combo.  My roommate CM and I chatted with a friend earlier tonight about various hand signs for different years and I started thinking back over 2010, this time as a college grad.  Since this spring, I:

graduated from Florida State [go Noles!], interned with Tallahassee Woman Magazine while simultaneously job hunting all summer, packed up my apartment in Tally and moved home, found a roommate and an apartment, the job hunt continued, landed an interview in Virginia, landed the job [not in the order most people do it], found second roommate, packed up my blue Corolla, said goodbye to family and friends, boarded the auto train to Virginia, slept on friends' couch for several weeks, started my job, and then moved into the apartment. It's been a bumpy, unexpected, and at times hectic and spontaneous journey to here, but I'm grateful for every blessing God has brought into my life.

To everyone who graduated in '10, I don't know what kind of year you've had, but Class of Dimes, here's to you.  To believing, achieving, and succeeding.  To saying, "Screw you, Economy," and getting the job.  To listening to and following God's will for your life.  To putting aside your pros-cons list and following your heart.


Cheers,

Lorin

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