What's in a name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet."

--From Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

It's a good quote, but names do seem to represent things in some meaningful way. If we decided to change 'rose' to 'gumbellin' (to pick something totally random), surely it wouldn't seem as romantic. "A dozen gumbellins for my love." It's just not the same.

Names seem even more connected to people. Who am I? I'm Larissa. (Or online or sometimes in real life, I'm Lara). That's who I am. Well, it's not all of me, but it represents me in some way. And the name 'Larissa' means 'hilarious' or 'playful' which is, of course, absolutely true. My jokes are indeed very funny. Just ask anyone who knows me in real life - I'm sure they'll agree!

My father's family has had a rather interesting tradition of referring to themselves by their middle names. For example, my grandma's name was Olive Grace, but she was always called Grace, never Olive. My uncle Norman Jack is always Jack, and my aunt Eileen Jean is always called Jean. And my dad is Frank. I can always recognise telemarketers because they ask for Arthur!

Cats have three names. The first poem in T.S. Eliot's Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats is about 'The Naming of Cats'. I'm going to put the whole thing here, because Eliot is my favourite poem and I like inflicting... er, sorry, sharing his poetry with others!

Oh ok, I'll give in. I'll put the first and last stanzas here, and a link to the whole poem here, but only because there are funky cats on this page!

The naming of cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm mad as a hatter
When I tell you a cat must have three
different names.
...
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought,
of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

Now we can move on to consider yet another type of name - the name of a blog. My blog, in particular. I don't know if anyone has actually noticed the new name - "Talking to my sock" - but you'd better have a look now, because it will soon be changed back to the original "Talking to myself". The reason for the change was that my brother misheard me when I told him the name, thinking that I'd actually said "my sock" instead of "myself". You can read his thoughts on the matter here. I still don't see how he won anything. I don't think it's a better or more appropriate name, and I certainly intend to change back. I've never talked to my sock in my life, but I do talk to myself, even if I don't always listen! Besides, the title of my blog was supposed to be a reference to my favourite Guns n' Roses song, Estranged:

When you're talking to yourself
And nobody's home

So, now you all know the story of my temporary blog name. It'll be back to normal soon.