Alex

My name is Alex. Hi. I know what you're wondering, because everyone like you is at this point. Like you? That means all they know about me is my name, Alex. A name tells you almost nothing, normally. It can at least specify a gender, right? but not my name, it has no purpose but classification...which doesn't mean anything. What does it classify me as? Nothing, it's just a name. Now that we've got that settled, that a name is just a name and nothing more, I'll tell you. I am a boy. I am not a girl. I will never be a girl. I have always been and always will be a boy.

I wish names were not important; I have plenty of good reasons! That means they shouldn't be important to me, right? because I can justify it? And because I want them not to be important? Too bad, because I can't get over it. As much as I hate it, and rebel against it, names have a purpose, and they mean something. They mean something? Then what does mine mean? Just a second, I'll look it up....... Protector of Mankind. What? Since when? Alright, never mind about names having meaning! Whatever, if you knew about my... predicament, then you could understand my obsession with names, and why I do not like mine. Tell you about it?! What are you crazy? Well, you're bound to find you sooner or later, so... here we go, I guess.

Alex-my name. And then my friends call me Al; so... Al- my nickname. That's not too weird, right? Just a nickname, not too strange, or weird, or anything, right? Well, over time, things morph, and I guess that's what happened to my name; it morphed. I didn't, but a few friends of mine who're taking French called me Aller. That's pronounced Al (my name) EY (not like the beginning of eye, but like end of “HEY!') It's like saying, “Hey, Al!” but backwards, so like, “Al, Hey!” and then, not pronouncing the 'h'. If that's my name, then I'm a French dude that means, “Go!” ...according to Google translate. That was okay, I was a good sport when the first person called me that, and then when it caught on, and then when everyone started calling me that, including the teachers! And I even played along like a good sport when I was quite unexpectedly hugged by the French teacher (nightmare worthy, by the way!). That makes me a great person.

Then my morphing name took a turn for the worse. I'll give you a sort of evolution progression thing for the pronunciation of my name: a-l-e-x, a-l, a-l-eh, and now it's a-l-a-d-y. A lady! People call me Lady! And it's not just every once in a while some jerk says, “heh, you're a Lady.” It stuck, so now everyone calls me lady. Protector of mankind? More like Lady-kind! So now people call me Lady, so when ever I'm in line at a place, and someone says, “Hey Lady!” I think they're talking to me. I can't go in public without getting whiplash from whipping my head around so fast and often because I think everyone's talking to me! But not in an, “Ooh, I'm so popular, everyone's talking to me, woo-hoo” kind of way, not at all. More in an, “What, man, you crazy? I'm not talking to you, what made you think that?... Weirdo.” It has become much more then a predicament of inconvenience, it's a huge... impediment. Imagine that. Let it sink in. It sucks.