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my laundry list of labels hangs above my head and trails behind my heels. the entries are daunting, extensive, calculated, and forced. i had no choice in the matter and no vote in the deliberation.
i simply was, i merely am. when i was nine, some of my nicknames frightened me. as i grew older, they emboldened me. an abbreviation of who i am or a subtle joke to who i am becoming. a quaint and affectionate disposition murmured from a loved one.
i am learning to embrace it all. i aspire to be honed into a singular, titular syllable. maybe a vowel. a sound that mimics the feelings my personna evokes. i am drenched in headlines and overwhelmed with paraphrasing - yet i encourage those that befall upon me.
what will you call me? will it roll off the tongue and past your teeth playfully? will those around you know the story behind it? the label, the noise, the creed. it won’t define, but it sure will shape. i plan to enjoy it thoroughly and turn my head in affirmation when called upon.
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I don't think we realize how important nicknames are to our society. When I was a wee lad I thought my name was un-nickname-able and my hopes and spirits were crushed. Years later I have earned a nickname so well that it has replaced my actual name. I think everyone deserves to feel the joy of having a nickname. The community and bonding attached to giving and receiving a nickname is unmatched. Truly a life altering experience.
Mar 3, 2025
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back in school i used to help or hinder my teachers based purely on their first impression when they did the first registration call.
they'd get to about the middle of the list and just pause. and i knew. i knew it was me.
if good vibes - i'd raise my hand and put them out of their misery
if bad vibes - nothing about my expression would betray my position even in the slightest. you would think i was under the impression that i have the most straighforward, easily pronouncable name in existence. and then i would make them guess. guess until they got somewhere close enough for me to go "oh, i think thats me?"
good times
Apr 16, 2024
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perhaps it was a desperate need to fit in, but i used to tell kids in school that my real name was actually emily. i genuinely don't think i fooled anyone with that lie, especially when my accent was still very noticeable whenever i spoke back then.
regardless, i thought my first name was too long and it was a pretty common name to have in colombia, so i always sported it like something that was mandated, assigned, but not something i actually appreciated.
throughout the years, i met a couple of emilys, each very lovely, who fit the name very well. and that's when it clicked: i couldn't actually picture myself carrying that name for the rest of my life and truly feeling at home with it.
valentina still felt like a mouthful, but i realized it did actually feel like me. anyways, that was a pretty long time ago and i cherish my first name in all its nine-character glory.
i hope you find comfort and feel at home with your first name/chosen name– it's so important to how we view and present ourselves.
Nov 21, 2024
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i am taking back my day by morning.
i want to see people, hear people, smell the coffee being brewed. i don’t wish to interact.
i walk with no purpose, undazed, lost in the agredious hour of cold. i am a victor of escaping my canopy - my bedsheets, my boredom. the internet awaits me. my mind humbles me.
i have to work today even though i don’t want to. i long for my journal and a cold covered novel. i think of kafka, i dream of bukowski. i scrub the shower, i bask in a pastry, i weep with dried lips.
i am vigilent. i hear the crack of ice under my feet. i push my brown boots forward. i feel my gloves bundled in my pocket begging to be used. my hands are maroon and moist. my bed is made, hospital corners tucked, back in my abode. i jangle my keys between my fingers then sit mindlessly. lingering for tomorrow already.
Jan 22, 2025
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outside my window the world is quieter but more awake. there is a startling rattle in the bones of the workers clutching the garbage bags lining the sidewalks and a sympathetic plea from the pups whose pads are cold and impatient.
one more day before freedom. an easy day, a slow day, a day of understanding perhaps - friday. on fridays, the day eases past. half of the office works harder, letting the tasks flow by as if exerting effort makes minutes deteriorate more quickly. the other halfs eyes strain and wait. breathing in with a sudden movement only every few minutes simply lollygagging the time away.
i find myself on the latter today - or possibly somewhere trapped in the middle. regardless the mantra rings out. thursdays are easy. they are forgiving. maybe even hopeful.
Jan 23, 2025