What's in a name?
When you're 20 years old, still living in denial that you're no longer the carefree teenage artist you once were, and see your lover of four years walk out of the bathroom holding the stick with the blue spot on it, there's three things you're going to need to do. The first is to reread the instruction on the box because you can never remember if you're supposed to be looking for a color, or a line, or two lines, or a stork. Next, get a second fast food job that will compensate for your lack of career planning. The third, and most important thing to do, you need to start coming up with clever rare names for your unborn child*. The kind of names that you think are a statement of your own personal creative abilities. As if it gave great insight into what kind of person you are.
"Oh, you named him that? Oh, you must be a great artist!" is what the people will have to say.
Of course some of my readers (hello? hello? hello?) out there are thinking they can't relate. However, this could apply to non-artists too.
"Oh, you came up with that name? What a good Christian you are!"
"Oh, good name! You must be the biggest Red Sox fan ever!"
"I can tell by the name you gave your child that you love independent music, but not that 'alternative' crap they play on the radio, the real stuff that they used to do before they got famous."
So, I started two lists. One was a list of names for a boy child. The other was a list of boy names that my girl child would not be allowed to date.
Ramone, Rico, Pablo, and Raul appeared on both lists. They fall into my latin lover names list. The second list also included Buck, Waldo and pretty much the rest of the Book of Names (which may or may not be a real book, but used here as a reference to whatever the latest popular name suggestion book is). The list of names for my boy looked like it was created by Dr. Frankenstein. I wanted to be sure no one else shared my special child's name, so I started combining names to create a whole new entity.
"Michad, Thomarken, Pablome", names like that. It was ugly, but I had a mission. As much as I wanted the unique special snowflake name though, my wife didn't. She wanted something a little bit more common. Something people wouldn't have a hard time spelling or pronouncing. Something that the child wouldn't have to explain over and over and over again their whole life. She also had a list of girls names.
When we found out the gender of the child, we immediately reduced the number of possible names. On the way home from the ultrasound we drove by this old historic neighborhood of town. I looked out the window and saw a sign that had the name of a park on it. A name that wasn't on any of our lists. A name that just seemed right. I knew then that it was the name we were going to have to give our special unique child. It reminded me of how I was named (my parents got my name from graffiti on a payphone booth that said "I ♥ Kevin"). It was the perfect name. Not too common, not too rare.
"Ender Park" the sign said.
Execpt, you know, it wasn't "Ender" since I don't use his real name here. However, you should know that I am an elite science fiction book reader since the fake names I use here are from the "Ender's Game" series by Orson Scott Card.
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* really you should do stuff like hug and reassure each other and talk and stuff like that
"Oh, you named him that? Oh, you must be a great artist!" is what the people will have to say.
Of course some of my readers (hello? hello? hello?) out there are thinking they can't relate. However, this could apply to non-artists too.
"Oh, you came up with that name? What a good Christian you are!"
"Oh, good name! You must be the biggest Red Sox fan ever!"
"I can tell by the name you gave your child that you love independent music, but not that 'alternative' crap they play on the radio, the real stuff that they used to do before they got famous."
So, I started two lists. One was a list of names for a boy child. The other was a list of boy names that my girl child would not be allowed to date.
Ramone, Rico, Pablo, and Raul appeared on both lists. They fall into my latin lover names list. The second list also included Buck, Waldo and pretty much the rest of the Book of Names (which may or may not be a real book, but used here as a reference to whatever the latest popular name suggestion book is). The list of names for my boy looked like it was created by Dr. Frankenstein. I wanted to be sure no one else shared my special child's name, so I started combining names to create a whole new entity.
"Michad, Thomarken, Pablome", names like that. It was ugly, but I had a mission. As much as I wanted the unique special snowflake name though, my wife didn't. She wanted something a little bit more common. Something people wouldn't have a hard time spelling or pronouncing. Something that the child wouldn't have to explain over and over and over again their whole life. She also had a list of girls names.
When we found out the gender of the child, we immediately reduced the number of possible names. On the way home from the ultrasound we drove by this old historic neighborhood of town. I looked out the window and saw a sign that had the name of a park on it. A name that wasn't on any of our lists. A name that just seemed right. I knew then that it was the name we were going to have to give our special unique child. It reminded me of how I was named (my parents got my name from graffiti on a payphone booth that said "I ♥ Kevin"). It was the perfect name. Not too common, not too rare.
"Ender Park" the sign said.
Execpt, you know, it wasn't "Ender" since I don't use his real name here. However, you should know that I am an elite science fiction book reader since the fake names I use here are from the "Ender's Game" series by Orson Scott Card.
-----
* really you should do stuff like hug and reassure each other and talk and stuff like that
