Naming the Demon

Not some deep, internal devil, but the little red guy with the pen right above here. I have yet to name him and I like to name things. I don't mean pets and children, but lunchbags, mixing bowls, appliances...I give them names.

I don't plan the names. I do not sit and ruminate about the "right" name for the object. I hold off until a name hits me like a bolt from the blue. I let instinct and inspiration guide me. So, some things are left unnamed for an extended period. Other things are named the instant I lay eyes upon them. Regardless, the names are always common.

I am not a grandiose namer. As much as I would love to mimic Tolkien in cobbling names that are awe-inspiring, grandly humorous, etc., I have not the skill. Perhaps skill is not the right word. Perhaps I simply see things with a plainer eye. Maybe I see them as they are laying about the house in sweats with their teeth unbrushed. It is hard to be inpsired to name something deliciously Elvish when you it is looking at you threatening to belch. So, my oven is Claude. My new mask is George. Phyllis brushes my hair, and Spurt washes my clothes. Bucket was my cat. Spelt was my rabbit as a child. When my naming deviates from the common, it deviates towards short and odd.

I do not quite understand my desire to name things. It might be the scientist in me. Nomenclature is a very significant concept in the sciences and, since I was born with a scientific brain, I may carry this drive for classification over to everyday life. But, scientists name things with a system. There is order and meaning. It provides organization and information. Names bespeak structure, function, relationships...I name at random. There are no patterns to my naming that would allow someone to use the names as a classification scheme. They are, basically, useless. They are not descriptive and I don't aim for that. They just seem to "fit." And I couldn't explain to you why a certain name fits a certain object. There are occasions when I can, my car is BabyRav since it is a Toyota Rav4, but these are the exceptions, not the rule. All I know is that I will get a name flash at the front of my brain, behind my eyes, that is forever branded to the object. Nothing will change it, either. I may subsequently think of something more appropriate, but I can never bring myself to dedicatedly use that name in place of the original. I have tried and I always fail. No matter what - the original sticks. I am reminded of the scene in a Terry Pratchett book, "Guards Guards," where an rather pathetic dragon is monikered "Errol" because he looks like someone's Uncle Errol. Now, the dragon had a grandiose, dragon-show name formerly bestowed upon it, but this guy just had a flash and, of course, it stuck. That's how it works with me.

Tomorrow will arrive my new rock tumbler. I am very anxious for this as longer days and, hopefully, warmer temperatures will enable me to get out and about rock hunting. A few days after that will arrive the dehydrator that will allow me to further pursue my Paleo/LowCarb/LowGI eating plan and add more of a rawist bent (better for lower GI and Paleo eating, anyway). Upon opening their boxes, a name might automatically leap into my brain. Barring that, some name will etch its way like a flame through a gunpowder trail across my consciousness as I use the devices and interact with their personalities. Time will tell. But, I still need to name the demon. Nothing defnitive yet. But...that little pen-pusher does remind me of somewhat of my Uncle Larry....