Our dear name

Our dear name

My name, your name and the correct pronunciation can be important to people. “lin” not ”line”; Carolin / Caroline. Some have an easier time than others remembering names. Whatever the case, nothing beats the ability to get someone’s attention and respect than hollowing out their name or using it regularly during a conversation. We are all human and make mistakes. Hence some latitude can be given to those that get it wrong once or twice, but people expect some effort to sort out the preferred pronunciation as soon as possible. Over the years I have made ever greater effort to find ways of recalling names and it pays off.

I called Laura Lauren for many weeks. She never said a thing until I said to Jill “this is my mate Lauren”, upon which Laura lifted her head skywards and set me right, “my name is actually Laura”. She never spoke my name, not once, yet seemed to know everyone else’s. What does that say? We can read too much into it, but it can be significant. Was Laura disregarding me? A little. She was what one might call being diplomatic with me. As said elsewhere I do the same, have done the same, will do the same to others too.

The pain, the pain is real. She has on so many occasions, tormented me. Thirst quenching crimson cream hastily accompanied by the most bitter aftertaste that induces yet more tears. I would not be surprised if some spirit in the heavens thought it would be entertaining to send someone in my direction that could goad me. They selected an optimal device that would grab my attention. Dangling a carrot that hovers close yet forever out of reach. The truth is that this is nothing more than an experiment that has parallels with the animal machine one. A look at emotions rather than at the way the mind acts when changing tasks. I can divorce the pain from real hurt. Pain as an experience rather than true displeasure. If you need to pee you go to the loo. If you are hungry you eat. Here you simply allow the tears to flow. It is not really me that is collaborating with fishing paraphernalia. Laura’s lure has one heck of a nasty hook, with a tasty bit of meat on it, that ends up puncturing a savage hole through your gums and exits through your cheek. Getting it out entails dealing with that one-way barb. More excruciating agonizing sufferance. Thank goodness for philosophy and its practical help that it can provide. One can never win by holding grudges. Forgiveness no, but there is always scope for redemption.

In spare moments I consider the following: I wish I had never met her. Knowing that she exists is a problem. I look around for someone else. None of them are as desirable for so many reasons. This has been going on for too long. I would be advised to let it go and move on. Love would be highly one sided. Even in years to come. That is never good. The story still needs completing. It needs a more gratifying transition.