The Wrong Name Choice

I do have a great fondness for names, whether they are of people I like, people I dislike, people I want to be, or people who are famous beyond belief. No matter who you are, or who they are, there are many names out there that are intriguing, mesmerizing, beautiful, and golden. Yet, on the other hand, there are many names which I would like to forget I ever heard.

At times, I wonder who thinks up these names, who gave these parents the right to name their child. As an example, who in their right mind would name your child Candi, Brandi, Mandi, or Dandi (and yes, I have met a young girl by the name of Dandi). Do these parents think that their daughter will grow up into a sucessful businesswoman, maybe the CEO of Merck with the name of Candi? Would any sucessful businesswoman want to be called Candi, because obvioiusly, she’s had to work hard to get to where she is, and with the name that sounds like some porn model….I just can’t imagine how she does it.

But even if we ignore the stripper names and we jump into the world of “Things to never name your baby” it’s a wild and crazy place out there. There are rhyming names, and alliteration names, and names with apostrophes. Now, why would you want your child to have their name D’ac’ershan or Pl’acny. Can anyone pronouce this? Can anyone understand what it means? For some reason, I think not

then there are those poor souls with names that rhyme. For instance, there is a set of triplets named Kara Rene, Sara Kaye, and Tara Faye. Now please, tell me why these poor girls must rhyme? Does it sound pleasing to here “Kara, Sara, and Tara, get in here right now?” Pesonally, I would just get confused. But if that isn’t enough confusion for you, perhaps you would like to name your twin girls Mallory Kaye and Micha Kaye, or perhaps Jordan Patrick and Jordyn Elizabeth?

But i do love the names celebrities give their children, they’re the best out of all of them. Apple? Pilot Inspektor?  Why don’t we just name our children spot and our dogs Thomas a’ Becket?

It is not to say that I don’t like names, in fact I have a strong passion for them and do spend time trying to find the perfect name for my children to be (since I have none yet.) But there must be some common sense when naming your children, because how would you feel if your parents named you Eazi Candi OatmealPi?

Call me Issac

Title: Call me Issac

Author: G.I.B.S

Rating: Child

Call me Issac, everyone does when they see me wandering the streets with my back straight and a shining top hat positioned on the top of my head. Perhaps the name Tom would suit you better, for that is what I am called when I put on my shabby brown jacket and rubber soled shoes.  Or, you can call me Jonas, because that is my name when I walk into church on Sunday mornings ready to open my heart to the Lord and let the chimes lift my spirits. Call me Franklin, for that is what I am called in the dreams I have early in the morning

My dreams are sullen and melancholy, like soup thickened with tar and muck. It is a chunky mixture of converging ideas and sightly hauntings. It is the rifle in my hand as I look off the snow covered mountain, down into the minuscule and blurry civilization below. On the rare occasion, my dreams are blatant fantasies of kings and paupers, dragons and wild knights.  My throne will sit in all its valor and I will be mighty and powerful and divine.  But when morning comes, I will only be David, for that is what my wife calls me in her half sleep and heavy eyelids.

Call me Samuel as I sit with my crisp newspaper reading it diligently from cover to cover. I soak in the news and the politics and the sports I dare not play. Call me Paul because that is what I’m called when I open my bible and stand to preach the word of God with admiration and awe, I do this in hopes that the people will repent and better their lives.

It is my God who has given me so many names, so many meanings to my life. He has provided me with everything, and yet I have nothing to call my own. My father has given me life, but what life do I lead when I am known to everyone as something different. Who am I and how did I become this? Where am I and how did I get here?

Call me  Bryant, call me Hamlet, call me Percival,  or call me Issac; everyone else does when I wander through the streets, my back straight and my top hat shining in the sun.