I'm the last male in my family? Literally. Well, my dad is 80, but he's not adopting anyone. I'm the last one in the West, and if any in the East are related to us, we don't know about it.
So nobody cares, and I could change my name. My dad doesn't even care. He's past that kind of stuff. Pffft. Flit flit flit.
So I was telling, I think Croc, the other day, that something that might make me feel good (I am into feeling good these days, by whatever reason or cause ethically do-able) ~ something that might make me feel good would be to change my name.
I mean, it means nothing, TO ME.
It is less me than say, "Rusty." Or Anemone.
Actually, maybe than "Gauguin," if I think about it; although "identification with" is not really the reason I selected that one. I think the average person signing up for some stupid internet site isn't really concerned with what name they're going to use. But there are probably some real obsessors out there; who think it's important. That's fine, I don't care; I'm just saying that I don't think people pay that much attention to what to choose or to what anyone else chooses. You know, saying that in 150-250 words, or more.
Anyway, we here, at this house, have a fascination with kitchen appliances. We have a collection. A nice one. I think they represent well-being. Modern America. They're like our most animate and friendly possessions. We use them a lot, and they're kept right there at hand height, on a counter. Enamels, metals, parts and motors. Whirrings. Used, cleaned, purchased, fussed with, jammmed with thousands of pounds of foodstuffs, before these are sent through our bodies. They're much more interesting than bathroom or closet items, imho. Than garage items. (Except lingerie.) (Shoes arer neat.)
But they're not respected. Appliances.
I set out to work on a paper to prove this, a few years ago, when I was on vacation, and also to prove that refrigerators are not respected. That Americans take these devices for granted, like slaves or highways or stoplights. I had a plan. But it's a secret plan, I can't reveal right now. Un fledged-out.
Nonetheless, I would like to, and would maybe feel better about who and where I I I am, if I could change my name to something. Under-appreciated. Like Big Tree. I think Croc knows this feeling. She seemed to, I think. I think one of her relatives changed their name.
Or maybe really change it to Warbler. But this, appliances, is different. Like Red Paint. The first name I liked is Toaster Oven. (I have a list.) There were some good ones. I was driving my car, after a vacation, through the countryside. That really does it. Sets the wheels in motion. Yip yip yap yap. (Gotta stay awake, is part of the motive. Self-preservation.)
If the reaction to this is that it is "silly," that's not what it's about, at all. It means people don't understand. If you could get them to understand it, they might start changing their names.
This understanding, making a rational person understand this, would be the goal or point of the plan. Making them, also, see that the way we do it now, is little more rational. PERHAPS LESS. I'm serious. Dead serious.
I would guess 87% of family names, and maybe 99.99%, of family names, today, have no meaning. Oh, sure, they may be ancestral trackers, but as we have seen, they are not, necessarily. A TON of those names could be dumped harmlessly and changed for something current or relevant or interesting. My name, for instance, as I stated, is not interesting to me, in the slightest. I don't even give a shit who had it before me. It's not heritage, paternity, geneaology, biology. It's not the same as being related to them. It's just a word, a meaningless word; a ~ l a b e l.
A label.
What are labels?
What are they really?
They're things you choose.
Parents get to choose their kids names, why can't I choose mine? What's the big deal?
And if people don't like Toaster Oven, screw them.
Really.
But then I worry they may hassle me ~ and I REALLY HATE THAT.
You know: "'Warbler' is okay, but you can't use Toaster Oven."
"Well FUCK YOU!"
"That's what I'm gonna use! I'm changing my name to FUCK YOU!"
I get really mad, when people tell me what I can do.
That's part of what this project is about, too.
It's a pissing contest ~ I intend to win.
But then I calm down and go back to the appliances. Which would be good, because it's killing two birds with one stone.
I'm sure when I can identify the bird, uhm, I'll be able to explain it.
I bet Croc can.
I just bet.
I bet she can.
You wait and see. |
