A few days ago the importance of names was discussed in an e-group I belonged to. And just now, I read that a very unfortunate girl was named Talula does the hula from Hawaii. What were her parents thinking naming her that? The girl was so embarrassed by her name that she refused to let anyone know what it was. Even close friends do not know her name as she's always say to call her K. Events have fortunately turned to her favor, as a judge allowed her to change her name. Which was not released anymore so as to protect her privacy.
When I was younger I disliked my name. Maria Carla was often mistaken for Maria Clara. And I'd often be the butt of jokes because of it. (fyi, the ladylove of Jose Rizal's famous novel, Noli me Tangere, was named Maria Clara) I also disliked my surname. I don't know why, I just do. But as I grew older I learned to love my name. I like my name's meaning. Pure Strength. Plus my surname is also synanymous to strength. I guess I've lived up to my name because believe that I'm a very strong person.
Although I love my name, I hate it when people call me differently. Earlier today, when I got my postal ID, lo and behold, Maria Clara was written on that little piece of paper. Hmp! Another mistaken identity.
