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My Name

 

I have always been indifferent about my name—I never hated it but was not exactly that proud of it either. Now, I know I have the privilege of having a European name that does not get made fun of and butchered by others, or ever see the substitute teacher look at the attendance and struggle to pronounce my name correctly. I would say I have a relatively common name, sometimes there would be another Julia in the class, and with a couple in the grade. I suppose the only thing that bothered me was the Julia would have way more friends than me and I would just be the “other Julia.” People have actually called me this. I cannot ever forget the embarrassment when the chaperones were calling the names on a field trip, and she only said first names. Surely you would recognize that there are kids who share names, right? So, when she said “Julia,” I said, “here,” not knowing that there was another Julia on the bus. Realizing what just happened, I sunk deep in my seat. Basically what I am trying to say is I felt that there would always be someone with my name, and they would be more important than me. Childish, I know.

The origin of my name is not very special, as my mom just got it out of a baby names book, and thought it was pretty. My middle name, however, came from my great-grandmother on my dad’s side who he was very close to. I actually like my middle name more than my first name and would change it if I could. I have noticed that a lot of girls my age have their middle name as Marie also. I guess some names are more popular? I don’t know, thanks for listening to me rant.

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