Actually, now that I stare at the words on the screen, that’s kind of a dumb name for this post. Because, I mean, roses don’t always smell, guys. And when they don’t, I always feel a little cheated, like they extracted the smell just because they knew those dumb roses would be coming to me, and they know that I’m waiting for the day that I smell some roses that smell like magic, if not at least flowers, and they wish to prolong my suffering. It’s unkind of them, I feel.
Who are they? Who knows. Smurfs, maybe?
If you find out, let me know.
Also in the same vein of endowing me with wisdom, will some kind lady please explain to me why the best kinds of perfume I can ever smell here on earth are all from really raunchy stores I do not wish to patronize? It’s like you can’t smell delicious without selling your soul to a store that encourages prostitution. No thanks, guys. But I will buy your PINK for reduced prices under the table. Kthnx.
I was going in a totally different direction with this post. Brain, brain, brain. Why must you shut down in the night-time? It’s half of the day, and I’m going to utilize it when I can!
NAMES! Names. That’s where I was going.
Names are great. I really like them a lot. I mean, I have a billion names that I love more than anything, and I will have to have at least a billion kids to name them everything I want to name them. Or they’ll be like Carmen in Spy Kids, with 17 names all rolled up in one.
Did I just reference Spy Kids?
Someone shoot me.
Names are kind of funny to me because I don’t have any nicknames in real life. I didn’t used to anyhow. And that’s preposterous, because Christina has a million nicknames to go along with it: Chrissy, Chris, Christy, Tina, Chrissy Deena, Aguilera (Someone did actually call me this once. And I was, like, five, and had no idea what she was talking about. She had to explain it to me, and as a five-year-old I really didn’t give a hoot, so the joke was on her. HAHA, AMANDA!! I don’t even know what kind of six-year-olds know who Christina Aguilera is anyhow. It would be interesting to see where you ended up.) . . . but none took. I mean, my parents call me Chrissy or Chris sometimes but no one else, and if they try I give them the evil eye and say in my creepiest, I-will-truncate-you-at-4-am-with-the-sharpened-end-of-a-telephone-pole glare and growl, “DON’T. CALL. ME. THAT. EVER.” It usually works.
But I love Japan, guys. I really love Japan. This is probably a result of growing up on Sailor Moon and the original Pokémon series, but whatever the reason, I do. Anime? Yes, please. Manga? Bring me all 34 volumes, and I’ll see you after the weekend is up.
So I started learning Japanese! Last year. Through the summer, I made my way through Rosetta Stone Japanese Units 1 and 2 Year 1, and I was the happiest girl in the world. Loved everything about it. So I started looking up random Japanese words to use in everyday situations! And you know what I learned? The Japanese form of the name Christina is Kurisutiina, which I think is totally ACE and I love it more than anything I have ever been called before. But people will not just call me Kurisutiina. It’s got more syllables than my name, for one, and my parents don’t really get my Japan-fan-ness, so they were like, “Cool” when I told them and forgot about it.
Although my dad sometimes puts the effort forth and calls me Kurisutiina. He pronounces it wrong sometimes, though. Sorry, Dad. I know you read my blog, and I still love you, even if you say “Hola Kurisutiina” and pair the lovely Japanese with the vile and base Spanish that was the bane of my existence throughout the last five years of my schooling career. Also, I like your mustache. :3
So when I was filling out my Summit application, I saw the little box for preferred name. I wavered. Should I put Kurisutiina? I thought. No, no, no, that’s way too long. But what about… Kuri?
So I did. I scrawled Kuri in the preferred names line, stressed out about it for a week or so, and forgot about it.
When I got to Summit and got my nametag, I started to kind of freak out. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should ask them to redo my nametag and just put my normal name? Maybe I wouldn’t like being called Kuri. Maybe people wouldn’t like calling me Kuri. Maybe I would get in an accident, and no one would know my real name, so they wouldn’t be able to get my insurance card to work and I wouldn’t get medical attention and I would DIE.
I am a beast of a thousand fears.
Actually I’m really not.
The only thing bad about going by Kuri is that NO ONE could pronounce it. And I do mean NO ONE. They were all like, “Curry?” And I’m all like, “Haha, no, Coo-ri” And they’re like, “Oh, Curry?” And I’m like, “DUDE I JUST SAID IT’S COO-RI. COO-RI. LIKE PIGEONS, GUYS. COO. COO. COO-RI. PRETEND LIKE YOU’RE A PIGEON, OKAY?? JUST GET MY STUPID NAME RIGHT.” Only less caps-locks. I’m nicer in real life. Sometimes.
So people eventually got it right. And one girl, my love Sarah Joy, just ended up calling me “Coo” and still does, and shall ever be reminded of pigeons when she thinks of me.
I don’t think that’s a bad thing, necessarily?
I am actually not sure.
Pigeons have pretty iridescent feathers, so I think it's okay. And they live in Chicago, right? So it's okay.
So they all called me Kuri, and it was great, except when people pronounced it wrong or first met me, and then they scrunched their elitist American noses and were all, “That’s an… interesting… name.”
And then I was all like, “Yeah, you’re just jealous cuz your name is TYLER. I know a million guys named TYLER, and you only know ONE named Kuri. HAHA, TAKE THAT!”
I did not tell them my name was secretly boring. Kuri was my spy name. Like a ninja, yo. I am THAT cool. Also, there is a character named Kuri in about every Japanese manga, anime, or game show in existence. It is not that special of a name, except in America, where the boys are named Tyler and the girls named Christina.
When I returned to the sweet golden cornfields and flat splendor that is Indiana, people no longer called me Kuri, and this was a source of extreme dismay in my life. So, in order to console myself, I made ‘—Kuri’ my text signature so people will ask me about it and then I can tell them loudly that it is my favorite thing to be called, and they will call me that and the sun will shine again, just like it did in those glorious two weeks in Manitou Springs. So far, my evil plan has worked on two unsuspecting victims. Hopefully by the time I have taken over the world, the rest of you will be calling me Kuri as well.
So that accounts for three of my names. Christina Kuri [Wiess]. Weiss is not my real last name, but you do not need to know my real last name, for it does not need to be known. Keep it secret, keep it safe and all that. You understand, I’m sure.
“But why, then, do you have a different last name on your blogger? What is the origin of this intriguing name alluding to Greek myth? What could it MEAN?” You are all asking.
This blog post is 1,400 and some more words long. I have work and homework tomorrow, and Driver’s Ed and being civil to people, so I feel I must sleep at least some tonight. But I felt like I at least ought to get this far in the story of my million names, so we will let it rest for now and soon I shall return to educate you on the splendorous last name I have chosen to affix to mine own on Blogger and other things.
But the sheets, they call!
So peace, dudes. You should probably be sainted for reading through this. Kthnxbai.
Christina Kuri [Wiess] Icarus