Though my first name (Kira) isn’t rare these days, back when I was born (late sixties) and throughout my childhood it was basically unheard-of. I was named by my father, who thought he’d invented it. Anyway, teachers always mispronounced it and kids laughed. As a ridiculously shy and insecure child, I felt they were laughing at me, and thus hated my own name for not being “typical” and for making me feel separate.
As I grew older, adults always told me how pretty and unusual the name was, but I didn’t believe them. To me it was harsh and ugly, just as I felt about myself. As an adult I’m at peace with it. It’s just a name.
Yeesh what a depressing post. Sorry. Anyway, if the kid has a strong sense of self, I don’t think his name will have that detrimental an effect.
I’ve had the same conversation with Vietnamese people:
“If your sister’s name is Bong, why do you call her Bongm?”
“I don’t.”
Then again, I was led to believe that we English speakers are the odd one out here, with our habit of leaving our mouths dangling open at the end of words like “Bong”. Or so I’ve been told.
There was a kid in my high school who went by J.R., because his given name was something like Joulon Ruiz or something (I don’t really remember). There’s always that option, although the real name got out because the substitutes would read it off in the “legal” fashion.
I do have a “funny” name and I have a song. It’s especially bad at Christmas, when the cartoon is on as well. Damn snowman–I was here first.
People still comment on my name, though now it’s usually positive comments about what a cool name I have. And though my name is what many would consider a nickname, some people still feel the need to go just one step further (Dad, quit calling me Frostbite!).
You learn to have a sense of humor or become an asshole about the whole thing. Now, I don’t even care how you spell it and I’ll answer to almost anything closely resembling it (Misty, Dusty, Rusty, Sunny are all popular with the folks who mishear my name).
If I hear my name, I know you are talking about me. Can’t say the same for my brother Mike.
I don’t know if it makes you feel any better, but one of my heroes is named Frosty Troy. As a frequent public speaker and editor of the Oklahoma Observer, he’s a lonesome voice of reason against the conservative bastions in my home state.
Just so you know you aren’t the only one. I don’t know if it’s his given name or nick name, though.
My first name is a relatively archaic name, at least for women of my generation. On top of that, it sounds like a disease, so you can imagine my suffering in middle school. I got used to my name eventually, and now I am elated whenever I run across people who share my first name, usually immigrants like me. However, I did promise that I would give any children of mine “normal” names. The Princess’s first name, it turns out, has been in the top 100 female names, according to the Social Security website. Her dad and I weren’t aiming for that, though; we wanted something personally meaningful, easy to write and pronounce, and that she would like, and we succeeded on all counts.
I spell mine with an “i” but I hear there a quite a few Frosty guys out there. My understanding is that it is usually a nickname for Forrest (I was named after a Forrest called Frosty). Usually when people say they know someone with my name, that’s the explanation.
Feel free to use my extremely cool name for your children, fellow Dopers! No one ever takes me up on this offer.
