What’s in a name?

I promised you some light-hearted folly after my rant of last week, and it is this promise that has kept me scarce. The debris of the ranting have, however, now been cleaned up and I’m here with a brand spanking new attitude. (Attitude, none the less, so do be warned)


I therefore offer you the next little quest to distract you from your daily doings.


I’ve always mused, somewhat in jest I guess, that I want to change my surname. Not now, of course, but in a couple of years, when I’m old enough to make the right decision, I would like to take the plunge and fill in a couple of forms. I’m the youngest and last of my lineage on both my maternal and paternal side of the family. I am fiercely proud to be a part of my family and I cherish them with all my heart, but this surname has got to go because short of moving to Germany, I don’t know how to get people to spell or pronounce my surname in this country (being South Africa – for my international nationals), and as I’m not in show business, but in a profession where my surname is mostly used as a reference in any matter I’m dealing with, it presents me with a daily struggle. I already have to spell my name letter for letter, so it’s difficult enough as it stands.


I do feel a slight tinge of guilt at this notion of course, as much emphasis is placed in South Africa on your heritage. Rightly so, but is this somehow chained to your surname? My mum (as most women) gave up her surname when she was married, so does this mean that she is completely disowning her background, where she came from and how much she feels like a part of her family? Of course not. I know my proposition is unorthodox, but I’ve always walked to the beat of my own drum and I know that my family, although they do not always understand it, respect this and encourage me in my choices.


The laugh of it is that I cant even pronounce my own surname properly. I have a German friend who corrects me every time I say my own surname. I mean, come on!! (Bastard shouldn’t have an opinion, since he has a killer surname.) I’m not negating the possibility that one day I’ll meet myself a fellar who has himself a stellar surname and we’ll ride off into the sunset after a great party and a white dress, but you know, this is the 21st century and I’m not hanging my hopes on that. Most gals don’t even change their surnames anymore, even when they have the diamond encrusted ring finger to allow it. Distinctly more complicated when I have to cite parties, but hey, it’s your choice.


And so, as I muse about my linguistically challenged tongue that can’t pronounce my own surname, the conundrum presents itself: If I do actually go ahead with this, what do I change it to? If you could change your surname to literally anything, what would you choose? You see what I mean? The possibilities are never-ending. I don’t want something difficult, but I’m never going to be a Jones or Smith type either.


It’s the end of the year, and to induce some merriment into the commencement of the holiday season, I ask you, my dear Readers, what would you suggest?