When I was in grade school, I would fantasize about changing my name to something more exotic. I longed for a glamorous name like Isabella, Josephine, Madelyn, or Natasha. A grand name with a lot of letters that I could sign with a dramatic flourish of my grape scented, unicorn eraser-topped pen. (My name just didn't have the autograph quality that I was looking for back then.) And, to make matters worse, most of my friends' names came with unique variants, making their lives seem significantly more important and way cooler than mine: Angela was Angie, Melinda was Mindy, Miranda was Mandy, Melissa was Missy, Leticia was Tisha, Antonia was Toni, Jennifer was Jenni. And I was, as usual, just plain... Lisa.
I specifically remember one day in the fifth grade when, as an assignment, we were all supposed to use and call each other by our middle names. For one entire glorious day I was Marie. (I made my parents carry on the assignment at home that evening.) Wonderfully different, beautifully exotic Marie. Needless to say, it quickly became one of the best days of the year.
These days, I don't really mind my name. Is it exciting and different? No. But thankfully I've gained some perspective since grade school and have come to realize that a person is a whole lot more than what he or she is called. It's what we choose to do with our lives that shows the world who we are and not, fortunately, our names.
** And, just for fun, here's a little muscial treat from Noah and the Whale to brighten up your Friday... Enjoy!
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"Name is a fence and within it you are nameless." -- Samuli Paronen
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