“Name that… YOU!”
I have so many things I want to say. So many things I should have been saying. I know I always apologize to you guys when I take a hiatus as though I actually have people who follow this blog and give a damn. But sometimes it’s just nice to get away. I had the most amazing weekend dancing with my gay men and embracing “my inner queen” – in other words, becoming more sassy than anyone should ever really be and forcing my friend who may be working his way back into the straight best friend position to put up with it. I think he may actually enjoy it, honestly. God only knows why he would enjoy me being so sassy with him, but he called me sassypants the other night and then just kept going. It’s pretty wonderful. I do tease him about being a masochist because he runs cross country and was supposed to do ten miles yesterday morning, though. And he seriously said, “pretty much,” in response to my declaration that runners are masochists. So maybe that’s why he puts up with my sass so much. In any case, he’s wonderful, and supportive, and I’m glad I’ve got that friend back. And my friends that I spent time with the other night are wonderful and serenaded me with N*sync music. Life is good (usually).
I came here to talk about love, to tell you guys that I need to remember to talk about faith, to consider the other things I should be posting. Those posts are being delayed, though, because I found the daily prompt.
My naming process was a fiasco in my own personal opinion. There’s a reason: My family life is really screwed up. I have never lived in a house with both my biological mother and father. Instead, I mostly lived with my biological mother and at the time quasi-stepfather (common law marriage – it works); he’s my adoptive father now. Sometimes I lived with my biological father and supposed stepmother – I’m confused as to how they were married when I remember hearing my mom talk about the drama in regards to the divorce and custody battle that lasted until I was like six, though. So it feels like if we had to fork out money time after time because he kept refusing to sign the divorce papers he couldn’t have been married to someone else, right? Who knows. When I stayed with him her kids were also there. I had two step-brothers and a step-sister. HAD being the key phrase. And I don’t think I spent time there once that my sister wasn’t also there for. She, however, was “alone” at his place for years before he decided to cause more drama by deciding he finally wanted visitation now that my sister was able to take care of me because I was old enough. Great dad, right? I honestly referred to him as Sarah’s daddy growing up before finding out he was mine too – and then he became Bill, that one got me in a lot of trouble.
So here’s the thing: My mom was planning on leaving him before she even became pregnant with me. It made sense. A LOT of sense. I’ll leave it at that. I don’t resent her for leaving him – if anything I resent him for the detrimental impact he had on my life. And then, she was pregnant. She left anyway.
At some point during the pregnancy she and my adoptive father decided that they were going to live together – I think it was originally supposed to be a roommate situation maybe? I vaguely remember hearing that once. But I was SUCH a Daddy’s girl when I was little – back in the days when Terry was considered Daddy. If my mom gave me a bath and got shampoo in my eyes I went running crying to him. I used to curl up behind his legs on the couch and we would eat cottage cheese and watch TV together. Those are some of the few memories I haven’t blacked out from my childhood.
So let’s think about it: Here’s my mom, pregnant, and not living with my “real” dad. Do you THINK there might have been some naming drama? Oh, believe me, there was. I always tease my mom about how she used to be a hippie – here’s some of my evidence: She wanted to name me Summer Daisy. I wish I were kidding you. The hilarious part of that is that “Dazy” was ultimately my nickname for a while and daisies are one of my favorite flowers. There’s just something I love about them and I can’t figure out what it is.
I don’t know what Bill wanted to name me, but I promise you it wasn’t Summer Daisy.
There was a blowout. Of course there was, did you expect anything less? The result wound up being that my sister got to choose my name. Keep in mind: My sister’s sixth birthday was three days before the doctors finally allowed my mother to get the c-section to have me. And even nearly two weeks late I was still a tiny little 4 lb 3 oz baby. Oops.
So my sister was FIVE when she got to take on this responsibility. As a five-year-old she promptly asked if she could name me ALF. As in ALF the alien life form ALF. She got SHUT DOWN pretty promptly. At that point she must have taken it upon herself to outsmart my parents, or at least think she did – my mom still insists she knew what my sister was up to, I’m not sure she did. My sister’s mission apparently became to find a first and middle name that started with A and L respectively so that I was still ALF because of my initials.
I don’t think she had any reason other than coming across the names and deciding she liked them or thought she was pretty to choose Angela and Lynn as the names that fit her initial criteria. But there it was – instead of being a summer daisy I was an angel. I have a friend whose dad KNOWS my name is Angela but calls me Angel anyway. It’s sweet.
I think the need to be an angel may have affected my behavior just a bit, although I’m not sure if it was a personality trait to begin with for me to be innocent or if I started trying to fit the meaning of my name as a child. I just know that aside from having a vocabulary that could make a sailor blush and having become a little more corrupt over the past few years I was most definitely an angel. I never got grounded as a kid because I never did anything worth grounding (unless you count the vocabulary but with everything else going on in our lives that was nothing).
So this post was a little random, I honestly wasn’t planning on it but I saw the prompt and couldn’t help myself. The reality of the situation is that it’s somewhat relevant to the other posts I’m planning on, though. You’ll get it eventually, I promise.