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a random journal entry
Journal Entry 3: My Name
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Many names have vastly interesting stories behind them. My name is not one of those names. Rachel Austin [Fakespeare]. When my mother was pregnant with her first child, she had no idea as to what it’s body parts would be. She glanced through a few lists of girls names. The only name she really liked was Rachel. She mentioned it to my father, who really had no care as to what the thing was called. He said he liked it, so it was set. Now, if it were to be a boy, then it was my father’s choice of what to name him. Turns out, it was a boy. Dad named him Robert James [Fakespeare]. Out of some strange coincidence, Robert and James both happen to be highly prominent names in my mother’s family. My mother had a red-headed brother named James. Coincidentally, Robert James [Fakespeare] had, you guessed it, red hair. My mother was allowed to name one of her newborn brothers, and she named him Robert. Robert soon died due to God smiting my mother’s family for overpopulating the earth. Coincidentally, Robert James [Fakespeare] will also eventually die, but not for the same reason… I hope.
My mother was, once again, pregnant. This time, she knew what I was. She already had my name prepared, so she wrapped it in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to wait for me. Sometime near September 16, 1990, they remembered that most kids get a middle name. They chose Austin, which was my Dad’s mother’s grandmother’s husband’s grandfather’s Last name, or, more simply, my great great grandmother’s married name. This was not a coincidence. They did it on purpose.
Now, most names have a meaning that they come from. Very rarely does the meaning actually reflect anything about a person, except, on occasion, gender. Rachel means, “Like a little lamb/ewe”. In other words, I am an innocent, quiet little four legged hoofed creature that is often seen being chased by dogs. If you shave me you get wool. And I taste quite delicious when you slit my throat and let the blood drain out of me, slowly. This description, I most certainly hope, does not fit me at all. I am actually a malicious, loud little two legged creature with feet. I am often seen chasing dogs. If you shave me, you will get a very ugly and angry girl. If you slit my throat and let the blood drain out of me slowly, you get a murder charge. Prison food is not delicious. It is thus easy to see why this name doesn’t fit. Austin has a wide variety of meanings, including helpful, a city in Texas, a descendant of the adopted sun of Julius Caesar, revered, and exalted. I have never in my life been in Texas. I am certainly not helpful, as my mother will gladly tell you. No where in my Genealogy will you find anyone related to Caesar. I am certainly not revered or exalted. I live in the bible belt. They save all that revering and exalting for some guy nailed to a tree.
Well, there you have it. What I’m called, why I’m called that, and why it doesn’t fit.
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 Gertrude  Claudius  Hamlet  and... Ophilia??!? Well, no wonder he liked his Mom! She's freaking ugly!
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