(by Hex-Girlfriend, visit her blog Hexus-Nexus)
Keeping my memories company and attempting to bind my personality with labels, labels, labels – all bad ones, no less – are these words bouncing around the small concavity in my misfiring mind: Recession, aggression, compression, depression, regression…That is, at this moment, all I’m stuck with. I started giving the world the silent-treatment a thousand years ago. My own head just hears myself better, I guess.
The short-list of my itemized companions also includes my never-fading, forever-precious gift of a name from my father that nobody ever got right the first time. You’d think it was a certified tongue-twister or something with all the variations I’ve been addressed by over the years –
“Gloria, what time is it??” Not even close.
“Lorianne…” Let me stop you right there – please don’t even finish the statement.
“Hi, Lauren...” Oy.
“Y’know something, Lorelei…!?” You’re friggin’ kidding.
“LOREAL, where’s my car?” Aaannd… …you’re drunk.
It did get sort of tiring having to correct folks by way of my own brand of brief-instructional/witty-inside-joke - "It's pronounced like 'DeLorean' but without the 'duh'". They mostly picked up on my knowledge of automobile history which made it funny for me for a while.
Who’d have thought a six-letter, three-syllable name would puzzle so many educated people? "Lorien" is, after all, borrowed from famous AND recently popular literature. Can you guess where it's from? Two minutes on Google and you'll pretty much find out...
It did get sort of tiring having to correct folks by way of my own brand of brief-instructional/witty-inside-joke - "It's pronounced like 'DeLorean' but without the 'duh'". They mostly picked up on my knowledge of automobile history which made it funny for me for a while.
Who’d have thought a six-letter, three-syllable name would puzzle so many educated people? "Lorien" is, after all, borrowed from famous AND recently popular literature. Can you guess where it's from? Two minutes on Google and you'll pretty much find out...
The problem with people is that their brains get stuck on the familiar, common-sounding, easily recognizable fluff. Save for that one nut of a high-profile client who’d actually get it RIGHT while she was sober, but would make me an exotic, French-i-fied cosmetics brand after a few drinks at Morton’s out with her own clients. Had she eaten enough steak and potatoes, maybe she’d have gotten it right. Or, come to think of it, maybe in her Queen-of-the-Music-Industry robes she was just screwing with me – O, she knew how to properly pronounce my name alright, but it was so silly-sounding to her that she just had to make her drunken jabs at me. Either way she loses because in the end (of the commercial, anyway) I’m worth it! Whatever that means…
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