Names. I’m sitting at home in my “office” with a hard cider, some music, a bag of
blue corn chips and an entire bowl of guacamole. My house is empty save
for one sleeping babe on the other side of the door, and I have this entire
stormy night to myself to draft an amazing blog entry for my newest great idea. So per usual I’m toiling
over some detail instead of producing the brilliant piece I imagined, sifting
through dictionaries and thesauruses and searching terms like kickass blog name generator, gimme a good name, and what not to call your blog. Three of my
precious Me hours whisked rapidly away into no one direction particularly, kind
of like my trash cans in the intense wind storm happening just beyond the
rickety rolling garage door. Errr, ummm, walls of my office.
The only difference, of course, is that I will settle on a
blog name eventually (ideally—and likely—before you read this) while I will
probably never find my trash cans again. I suppose I’ll likely settle on a nice
pair in the selection that will inevitably gather down at the end of the tortuously
steep street I reside on so I guess that counts for something. My neighbors
will curse me under their breath and call me names, but they will still
appreciate that I have eggs whenever they need them. Life is obviously a very
delicate balance.
Names are so important. Blog names. What we name our pets.
What we call our kids. Chosen name changes in the courts to signify a new
future or to get away from an old past… The cards we play in the Name Game
identify pieces of ourselves to those we encounter though they may never
question or learn the significance behind a given selection. For example, Mr.
Muffstache is not a dog I want licking my face; Shit on a Shingle never sounds like
an appetizing answer coming out of my mouth when I’m prodded for the evening
menu; and no matter what kind of pudding may be inside that can on the grocer’s
shelf, I don’t think I could ever bring myself to eat Spotted Dick.
Hopefully you don’t find my blog name as repellent as
something like SOS or Spotted Dick. If you do, it might be a good time to go
ahead and leave because I can assure you it’s only going to be more of the same
from here on out. If, however, you are among the more adventurous among your
friends and family—either in the culinary realm or in life in general—this
might be a fun place for you to visit regularly. You can’t change what I’m
calling my blog, but feel free to save it under whatever name you choose in
your bookmarks.
UPDATE: I’ve
decided on a name for the new baby. It
has been holding me up for days, but less than a week after leaping from the
iOS platform to the Android one I was growing increasingly frustrated with my
inability to move forward with the setup of all my newfangled gadgets and
widgets due to my indecision and so I chose one that fits. I registered the new
online spaces with the name a palpable
paradox. Why? Well, that’s basically what every story I have to offer now
and in the future is likely to be: something so raw, inspiring, true and seemingly
absurd, impossible or illogical that you
can feel it confusing your marrow deep inside as you read it. I assure you
every word is true according to me and my experience.
How delightful!
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