Condemning your flailing and defenseless newborn child to be known evermore as “Vladimir” is admittedly... strange. It’s sort of like calling your daughter “Violetta” in the hopes that she will blossom into a reserved yet wildly creative poet with skin four times more ivory than your own and with dark flowing tresses straight out of an American Gothic. Or like naming your son “George” in an attempt to preemptively protect him from drugs and steer him towards a higher caliber of society where he will make friends with the similarly well-bred James and Phillips. Except it’s worse than both of those because at least Violetta has a certain quaint flair to it and George is still pretty socially accepted, even if it does demand a necessary ass-kicking at some point in the poor guy’s life.
(Seriously. People in this town aren't patriotic because they love America but because they, like, detest England. When I was in fifth grade, our Revolutionary War unit coincided with Halloween. The boys in my class forced this kid George to dress up as King George III just so they could be American Rebels and shoot him with Nerf guns. Tragically, the rebels wouldn't accept a white flag from him until our teacher - she was dressed as Sandra Day O'Connor - intervened and made everyone sing him an "I'm Sorry" song.)
(We're also big on creativity.)
Personally, I think my parents' chose name for me is currently contributing to my slight narcissism problem. Some people (my mom) call it being conceited, but I swear I'm not. I mean, I'm not obsessed with my hair or anything. That would be a total waste of time, considering my face does what it wants whether I give a damn. It's just that every time I visualize a “Kelly,” I see this soccer mom with a bad blond dye job inhaling jelly doughnut after jelly doughnut. Then I have to go look in a mirror and make sure I'm still sixteen and childless.
Anyway, being a Vladimir sucks. The weird thing is, his parents are totally normal. You would think that they're into creepy underground vampire cult shit, but they're not. They're Unitarian Universalists for God's sake. They've let me know that overly pale skin gives them the "heebie-jeebies" ("No offense," his mom quickly added, looking down at my undeniably pasty complexion). It's just that they have this name fetish, and one early morning in May when a hospital nurse came knocking on their door in the maternity wing, something possessed them to take in their baby's curly blond hair, his chubby arms, his cherubic face, and write down "Vladimir Phillip Rankin" on the birth certificate.
"They're taking it out on me," Vlad told me once.
"What do they have to take out on you?" I asked him. "They're in love with you. If incest wasn't illegal, they probably would have proposed to you by now."
"That's disgusting," he said. "Also, no, because they don't want a suicidal son. Also, polygamy is illegal, so I couldn't be married to two people at once. So basically, no."
I shrugged at him and gave him my best gloomy eyes look, which involves me pretending to be a sad puppy. He flicked a paper clip at my head.
"But seriously, think about it. They've dealt with being called Raleigh and Gladys their entire lives. I think they, like, subconsciously hate everyone with a better name than them. They probably made me a Vladimir to make themselves feel better."
He had a point, though. I've seen them at my parents' parties. Even if Raleigh and Gladys were in a corner snorting Ecstasy, people would ask them why they aren't happy. "Aren't you supposed to be really glad?" they inquire, barely concealing their smirking mouths, thinking they're being original and clever.
This is why I hate people. People are never original or clever. They're usually just annoying.
---
YO YO YO! Right, well, that's a sort of "glimpse," if you will, from my brand-new novel type jaunt. It doesn't really have a plot yet? Or anything else? But that's okay? And I'm going to stop writing in question form now.
Basically it's about somebody called Kelly, who I have kindly drawn for you in Paint, and her potential boyfriend Vladimir (I mean "potential" as in "I haven't figured it out yet so for now we're just going to say they're dating"). Also it's about how we perceive people based on their names. And stuff.
(Don't give me that look. I'm only about 1,000 words in. I have time...)
Haaaaa so sorry if it's not very good right now; it's 12:19 am and I have been awake for far too long today/yesterday so I don't really have a filter right now, but um, yeah. Just wanted to share that with you/I'm too lazy to write an actual blog post today/yesterday.
P.S., I can't draw in real life and drawing using a touch pad on a laptop is even harder, so please don't judge my lovely lovely picture KAY THANKS. (Just kidding; you can judge it, I won't mind. I mean... it's sort of like a Picasso, except instead of being awesome and abstract, it really just sucks. whoooo)
:)
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