The power of a name
When I was a senior in college, I lived in this awesome apartment off campus. High ceilings, crown molding, spacious rooms, wood floors. A two bedroom apartment that cost less total than my ugly (but extremely stylishly decorated) studio in DC.
What was my point again?
Right. Names.
Anyway, despite the fact that the apartment was almost always impeccably clean (no thanks to me, I assure you), when spring hit, my roommate and I found that we had acquired a deadbeat houseguest.
A mouse.
I don’t actually dislike rodents all that much. I had a pet gerbil when I was little (Shadow. Because she was black. Creative, non?) and my friend had three mice (Athos, Porthos, and Aramis) and a rat (D’Artagnan. She was literary). I loved those animals, and loved to let them crawl all over me.
But a mouse in the apartment? Turns out, that’s not nearly so cute. In fact, it turns out that it’s downright horrifying when a tiny rodent darts out from the wall and dashes across the room where you’re sitting by yourself on your horrendously uncomfortable wooden-armed couch watching reruns of Gilmore Girls after midnight instead of studying or sleeping. It turns out that the result of such an occurrence is shrieking and jumping and standing in the middle or the room, eyes darting in every direction to catch a second glimpse of the lurking monster.
Right. So: Mouse = scary. Freakout = happening. Solution = nonexistent.
So I did what any rational person would do: I named the mouse Fred. Fred just wanted to hang out and watch Gilmore Girls with me. And frankly, who could blame him? It’s a damn good show.
So Fred and I watched the rest of the episode, and then we both went on with our lives.
****
I have to admit, however, that I wasn’t thinking about Fred when I gave Jen and Eric their names. I just kind of thought it would be funny. But after my run last Saturday, as I was driving to Philadelphia, I kept stretching out my leg until I could feel the sore spots.
I’ve been thinking about what comes next after this marathon (another marathon? Shorter races? Non-running exercise?) and, in the car that afternoon, I briefly thought, “It’ll be good not to run so much, and not be sore all the time.”
But then I thought, “aw, I’ll miss Jen and Eric.”
****
I really am that demented.
But, seriously, try it some time. Giving a name to something scary or unpleasant? Totally changes your outlook.
Or maybe it's just me.
What was my point again?
Right. Names.
Anyway, despite the fact that the apartment was almost always impeccably clean (no thanks to me, I assure you), when spring hit, my roommate and I found that we had acquired a deadbeat houseguest.
A mouse.
I don’t actually dislike rodents all that much. I had a pet gerbil when I was little (Shadow. Because she was black. Creative, non?) and my friend had three mice (Athos, Porthos, and Aramis) and a rat (D’Artagnan. She was literary). I loved those animals, and loved to let them crawl all over me.
But a mouse in the apartment? Turns out, that’s not nearly so cute. In fact, it turns out that it’s downright horrifying when a tiny rodent darts out from the wall and dashes across the room where you’re sitting by yourself on your horrendously uncomfortable wooden-armed couch watching reruns of Gilmore Girls after midnight instead of studying or sleeping. It turns out that the result of such an occurrence is shrieking and jumping and standing in the middle or the room, eyes darting in every direction to catch a second glimpse of the lurking monster.
Right. So: Mouse = scary. Freakout = happening. Solution = nonexistent.
So I did what any rational person would do: I named the mouse Fred. Fred just wanted to hang out and watch Gilmore Girls with me. And frankly, who could blame him? It’s a damn good show.
So Fred and I watched the rest of the episode, and then we both went on with our lives.
****
I have to admit, however, that I wasn’t thinking about Fred when I gave Jen and Eric their names. I just kind of thought it would be funny. But after my run last Saturday, as I was driving to Philadelphia, I kept stretching out my leg until I could feel the sore spots.
I’ve been thinking about what comes next after this marathon (another marathon? Shorter races? Non-running exercise?) and, in the car that afternoon, I briefly thought, “It’ll be good not to run so much, and not be sore all the time.”
But then I thought, “aw, I’ll miss Jen and Eric.”
****
I really am that demented.
But, seriously, try it some time. Giving a name to something scary or unpleasant? Totally changes your outlook.
Or maybe it's just me.
posted by Noames at 5:37 PM
4 Comments:
Wow, Naomi, I just had an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Do you read Krissa at Petit Hiboux? If not, you should totally begin doing that immediately. www.petithiboux.com (sorry I can't get the HTML in there, too complicated for me.)If you go sometime later, check out the entry for April 13. Cheers.
Hee! That's a funny coincidence. Thanks for the link--looks like a fun read.
You have to keep running. Otherwise we'll miss Jen and Eric too. And you.
Very amusing thoughts!
I've never tried naming things that scare me, but perhaps it might be a good idea. I'll have to give it a try with my running shoes!
Post a Comment
<< Home