And two weeks later . . .

Ok, so names. I got thinking about names, mostly because of the number of pseudonyms that get created for the Internet. Examples: ddrmaxlegend2006, and loverboifromhell . . . I can't even make a joke here.

Anyway, this got me to thinking about how names are important to an extent. If you say you don't like a name, you can get tonnes of cliched responses, like "What's in a name", or "Does not a rose by any other name smell as sweet?", or something like that. To these people I would respond, "Be honest. If roses were named pukenbile-splattars, how long do you think it would be before someone renamed them?"

Now, lets put this into perspective, my name is Rye. It's not a normal name. I mean, if you get right down to it, it's not a name unless you happen to be a grain or your parents were hippies. At least having hippie parents means that the rest of your family has odd names too. Like a brother named Knoll. Can you imagine what sort of a freak you'd turn out to be if you were named Knoll? Hopefully the kind who can take a joke if ever he reads this . . .

Funny thing is that I've kinda grown into my name. When I was young I got teased about it a lot. Then there were the millions of little rhymes that came along with it. I couldn't stand them, and so I hated my name. Over time though, I started enjoying having the name Rye. It was unique, it stood out, and it was slightly confusing. I get described the exact same way!

Incidentally, in Bulgarian my name means paradise. There's a bit of irony for you.

But really, it's not a name that makes a person. To get back to the roses, the reason I believe we would never leave them named pukenbile-splattar is simply because the essence of the rose defies the name. The personality of the rose demands something simple and elegant, phonetically. It makes it's own name. I like this.

It reminds me that while people may remember my name as an oddity, it is only because I make it so.