There are a scant few times in our lives when we can easily re-christen ourselves. Over the course of years, I have sat with many a wigged out parent who have dropped children on my doorstep wearing their “Do Not Return To Sender” T-shirts. I quickly reassure the children that we always have plenty of porridge. And I take a moment at the door to ask Mum and Dad to glance back one last time and remember the day they chose a name for their Blessed Bundle. Frequently reconnecting oatmeal-hating children and teary-eyed parents is accomplished in short order. Then they grow up. All of them. And they can choose their Own Names, thank you.
Most readers know I sit in OChills Bar & Grill drinking latte all day. Chatting with the various visitors and pondering where their minds must have been as they were “born” into SL. Think back now. Wasn't easy was it? Picking a name that would chase you through all time and eternity. Establishing your own unique sobriquet – either to reveal or conceal the Old You. Quite a bit like vanity plates for your auto.
“So what,” you say. “I can always dump the Old New Me and get a Newer Improved Me, right?”
Wrong. All of a sudden you have Friends. You have non-transferable favorite pink sheep slippers and Big Hair of enormous nostalgic proportions.. Someone has given you a pet who will follow you devotedly to the grave. Your groups think you are cooler than Ice-T. You've bought a custom made George Clooney or Brittany Spears skin. Worst yet you may have grown rich and famous!
“Got the fix,” you counter. “I will add a Bright Yellow Text Tag Of Reason to my head explaining where said head was when I named myself!”
“Brilliant!” I say with my custom pixel brows aloft. My no-transfer latte extended Northward by my "Proust!" gesture.
The winning tag to date: “My former soul mate dragged me kicking and screaming into this crazy place and I just typed 'IBelong2Roxie' to please her. I really wanted to name myself after my dream car.” Fortunately we have good seating at the Bar for disclaimers taller than the average visitor.
Got a name like that? It's okay. C'mon over, grab some porridge and latte and I'll call your parents. Oh...and your kids too if you wish.Mags
