"What's Your Name?"

Dante, Carlos, Stephen… all great names, if only I knew mine.

As someone with artistic values I never felt the need to define myself with a name. Many have been confused by this concept, and through the years I think I have too. Of course, when I was born my parents gave me a name, and I was called by that name since my birth until high school. The whole idea of becoming nameless started around 10^th grade. I wanted to stand out and I had a pretty generic name. I wanted a cool nickname, something like Duke or Beast. None of them stuck. Even so, I was still determined to have a unique name to call myself.

 In an act of ignorant rebellion, I told my family and friends to call me Anon, as in Anonymous. For a while I thought I was this super mysterious guy that no one knew what his real name was. It worked for a while. People started calling me Anon. If I met someone new, I would introduce myself as Anon. My parents were the only ones who could call me by my real name, and it was only to be uttered in the privacy of our home.

Throughout my high school life Anon wasn’t the only name I had. They would call me ‘John Doe’, ‘Bod’ as in Nobody and my favorite one, ‘Hey You’. Some people just did not understand where I was coming from, and I couldn’t explain it to them, or maybe I didn’t know how to. I thought I had resolved in myself the idea of becoming this anonymous being, but through the years I guess I forgot. But it was already too late. Everyone had forgotten my real name and I had already gotten used to being called Anon. So, I decided to change my name again.

I dreaded having to come up with a new name to call myself after it took me so long to come up with the gem, Anon. I needed something that people would remember and pronounce correctly. It needed to stand out too. Growing up my parents always left me to my own devices when it came to expressing myself creatively. I always drew inspiration from them. My mom was a photographer and my dad was a sculptor. My dad had a studio where he would make his sculptures and my mom would photograph them. Sometimes they would take me to the studio, and they would let me make whatever my mind came up with. They always encouraged me to think outside the box. They always kept everything I made, and it didn’t matter if it looked like something a dog ate and then threw up. I never understood why such creative people would give me such an ordinary name. So, I decided to draw inspiration from these experiences,

I decided I wanted a real name not some nickname. I had gotten suggestions. Good ones like Eric, Gordon, Lincoln. Then there were the terrible suggestions such as: Burp, Doofus, Weirdo. (courtesy of my young cousin). Then I finally came up with a name. Well not really came up with more like stole. Cy, as in Cy Twombly. My favorite artist. His style was abstract expressionism. I totally could relate to that. Many thought his paintings looked like a bunch of scribbles, but when I looked at his work I felt as if I understood what he was trying to say. It was decided. My new name was Cy. I was very content with my new name. I stuck with it for many years, when I graduated high school, they even announced me as Cy during the ceremony. And as I entered college I was known as Cy. It suited me.

But as the years went by, I couldn’t shake this feeling of trying to be someone I wasn’t. I felt like a poser. I had convinced myself that I was this progressive person who didn’t need a name. I guess at times I felt silly. When people would ask me my name, I told them to call me John. The most ordinary, simple name I could come up with because I didn’t know what to call myself. During this name finding process, I think I lost who I really was, even if I didn’t know who I was in the first place. I tried being all these different people instead of being myself. All the trial and error of finding a name only confused me more. This brought me back to reality.  And here I am about to start my life and I still don’t know who I am. To be honest I had forgotten my real name. I couldn’t for the life of me remember who I was. Who was the person my parents would only call me? So, I called my mom and I asked her “Mom what is my name?” she started laughing in my ear, told me my name then she just sighed. After alI this time of trying to find the perfect name for myself I had never even thought about my parents and how they felt. She told me something that snapped me out of it, she said: “Through the year I have seen you struggle trying to figure out who you are, but deep down you have always known. You just got lost and forgot. And I don’t know why you had such a problem with your name it’s a great name, I should know since I’m the one who named you.” I chuckled. I knew she was right.

At the end of the day my reasonings had become irrelevant. I ended up being nameless and without purpose. What my mother had said made sense. I really was lost. Then I started thinking of my birth name. I asked myself, why did I have it out for this name. Maybe because I though it was so boring or not cool enough. Or because it could rhymed with another word that people used to make fun of me. Then I looked up the definition of my name, and my name means ‘manly or brave’. I wouldn’t necessarily use those words to describe myself, but it was a good meaning nonetheless. Then I wondered why my parents gave me that name. they must’ve had a good reason. Then I started to think about the time when I was only called by my original name. the kind of person I was. I am reminded of the times in the studio with my parents making unrecognizable sculptures or trying out a new instrument every month. I even went through a thespian phase. As a kid I knew who I was but why is it that as I got older, I lost myself? I was me the whole time and it only took me 24 years to find out.

I wouldn’t recommend that you go your whole life without a name and as a man of many names I wouldn’t recommend doing that either. There are better ways to get to self-discovery. But I finally know who I am, and I can say with full confidence I really like my name. I ended up asking my parents why they gave me my name they said that in a world full of sameness I would need to be brave to be who I truly was. That was deep. I now go by original name now, the one given to me at birth. Everyone can remember it, pronounce it correctly and I make it unique. So now when I introduce myself to people it goes like this

“Hi what’s your name?”

“My name is…”