Right In Front of My Ears

I have agonized, re-agonized, post and pre-agonized for a very long time about what Hebrew name I would choose when I finally formally went through conversion (oh, how I cringe at that very concept, to convert to something I already am and believe I always have been...but there I go again.)
I toyed with Batshere (but cutsy Mr. Smith repeatedly voiced a rude mispronounciation of it; what a wag!), thought about Chana (but "grace" I am not...), and landed on Miriam for awhile (meaning: sea of bitterness, how about that to define myself forever?! Plus, I'm no dancer, although I can resort to rock and roll flailing when the occasion calls for it.)
So. I was downloading some music into my iPod yesterday and saw it.
"Tzena, Tzena, Tzena" made famous in 1950 by the Weavers with Pete Seeger, one of my heros. It's been one of my favorite songs since childhood, one that I always sing fragements of or hum its melody. My name had been right in front of my ears my entire life.
Exuberant, saucy, has many meanings, layers, versions, and interpretations.
Call me Tzena.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyX-Rc8A1cg