"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." - William Shakespeare

I’ve never really appreciated blogs the way a child of the millennium should. I always find myself wondering why people would want to read my ‘diary’. But as an artist, I am a sucker for all forms of self-expression, so I began a simple little blog this past spring to showcase some of my original art. I suppose it has since expanded to include original thought as well. I am just now getting the hang of all the ins and outs of this thing, and as I was perusing my friend Adrienne’s blog,Thick Hair Does Not Tease, I noticed my own link and picture on her page as one of her ‘followers’. I must admit, I got a little excited in that dorky way that I see our fans act when they see themselves on the big screen at our stadium while at a Cowboys game…As my cursor scrolled over my little picture, my name appeared…only it wasn’t my name. Not really. My heart sank. A year after I filed for divorce, there, in black-and-white, my married hyphenated name stared back at me. ‘Emily Nicoll-Miller’. I scurried to my account and spent about 20 minutes trying to figure out how to change it, furious that there was any remaining link between me and my marriage. After finding no solution, I even considered deleting the blog and account entirely- just to have that display go away. I left my office for a bit, and as I sat in my car (which smelled horrendous, a post for a later time) I calmed down a bit, cooled my jets, so to speak….



I have spent the past year, getting my life back from the man who effectively took it away for two years. I have reclaimed my friendships, my faith, my family, my passions- piece by piece, step by step, and the last thing to fall into place was the day that my new license came…the license that finally had MY name on it, not his.


All of this may seem absolutely absurd to many readers, assuming there may be some, but until you have felt what it is to completely lose yourself, you will never understand the importance of not only knowing who you are, but being allowed to express it.


I could waste copious amounts of time explaining, that my two-year marriage ended on Valentine’s Day of last year, after my discovery of not just one but supposedly five other women in my ex-husband’s life besides me, or that the first time I became aware of one of these women was 6 weeks after we exchanged vows, or that the first time he was abusive was when I confronted him about that first woman. The stories go on and on and if you truly want sordid details, I am sorry…you’ll have to wait for my LifeTime Movie of the Week to be produced.


What is in a name? Peggy calls me ‘Sundance’, after the character in the classic film about two best friends who get into trouble together, ‘Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’. Yes, they are male bank robbers, but friendship is friendship, period. Brooke calls me ‘Sassy face’ or simply ‘Sassy’. With Tegan , I answer to ‘Emmy’ or ‘Woman’, depending on the situation. Jordan and Lauren usually stick with my full name, or coincidentally, they both revert to ‘Dear’ at times…I assume this is because they are older (and wiser) than me. My closest friends’ nick-names for me most likely don’t make for exciting reading, but neither do most other blog posts out in cyber space…the point is, with all of these names of mine floating around, I am still me. The name doesn’t make you who you are…it’s up to you and God.