What? My name is

19 Oct


Dictionary.com is like my old trusty running sneakers I’ve had since my freshman year–of high school. Wikipedia is the sexy version of dictionary.com. But when shit goes down, who would chose designer pumps over their ol’ sneakers? Only an Idiot. If you need to make an emergency call, only a moron would reach for a cell phone over a land line. So when I let my mind wander through an infinite number of rabbit holes tonight from overdosing on caffine and study guides, it’s not suprising i ended up appeasing my inquiry at dictionary.com.

Oh, what’s in a name?Honestly, I’ve never been fond of mine. Emily. It’s common, it’s average, it’s boring, it’s docile. Emily. It doesn’t roll off the tounge. It takes effort, like swallowing peanut-butter. It’s the eyesore, plaid Scottish print of Names, traditional but not proper,sufficient but not elegant. Painfully generic, defining adequacy. Emily neither soothes the ear or pleases the tounge–it is white noise. It is the Wonder Bread in Caucasian Culture, the 21st century Jane Doe of the American Sheeple. There were 6 Emily’s in my 6th grade class and about 9,800 babies named Emily for every 1 million births in the US the year I was born. It lacks creativity, uniqueness and orginallity, and apperantly, so do the parents of Emily’s nationwide.

So I somehow justified wasting time on an internal rant instead of studying for a good 10 minute chunk of valuable time, when I realized: I don’t even know what Emily means. Maybe it’s something cool, like scottish for female warrior or latin for balloon. Dictionary.com came to the rescue, and now I finally know what my name means.


And i hate it even more. What a sly,backhanded way for fate to tell me to get back to work.

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