What's In a Name...

Today I will talk about names.  Names are powerful things.  In a book I am currently reading, the author draws on old magic wherein the knowing the name of a thing gives one a certain power over it.  Sometimes, this is a dangerous use of dark magic and sometimes it is something more subtle and beautiful.  But always, it is power.  From Rothfuss to Rowling to Rumplestiltskin, there are countless examples from fiction, fantasy, and folklore that tell of the power of names.

For me, it works on other levels as well.  We use our given names everywhere (in Pulp Fiction, isn’t it Bruce Willis’ character who says we are in America, and names don’t mean….well, you get the idea).  I don’t think that’s entirely true, but there is a certain amount of familiarity with the names we carry on our birth certificates.  Perhaps that is why it feels like there is power in the bestowing of a name that is accepted by the one who is named.  The giving of a nickname, a pet name, a role name, or the choosing of a name is not something often entered into lightly.  I’ve thought about this a lot lately – partially due to the need to name the kitten that is currently fiercely battling a stuffed mouse under my chair.  Perhaps because of the Baptism I recently attended or the student I have who was brave enough and strong enough to give himself a male name to better reflect who he felt like inside.  Perhaps I’ve always loved names as a writer and a gamer and someone who loves words in general (who amongst you writers and games doesn’t know what I mean when I say a name must have The Ring?)  My husband is more frequently known by the character name from the game in which we met than he is by his given name.  My best friend is called Raven for a million reasons, all of which are fitting and funny and wise and meaningful beyond what I can explain here.  I tend to give nicknames to my dear friends because it ties them closer to me in some way.  Not to sound proprietary, but it makes them mine.  I hate the way that sounds, but I think my readers will know what I mean.  It is a verbal bond – or a verbal marker of a bond that is far more ethereal, in general.   As someone who has long believed that I’m cursed with finding wonderful people only to then lose them, this is a significant emotional investment.  Names of all kinds have power in my world…and if I give you one, it means something.  If you give me one, it means something as well.

That leads me to verbalizing my curiosity about names I’ve gathered over time.  There are a number of reasons for this and a number of names that immediately spring to mind.  JDB has a slew of nicknames for me, Raven has one, my sister has one.  My brother gave me one long ago that he doesn’t use much anymore, really, but it’s still mine.  My father and mother each have names for me, as do my nephews.  And then there are my students.    Many of them call me Dr. T., which is something I like.  Formal, but not.  Kind of like me.  Amongst the larger group of students is a smaller group who, for a variety of reasons, I refer to as my Minions.  They seem completely at ease with this moniker and they consist of students who take every class with me that they can.  They are students who wear the title with something akin to honor and they seem believe they have to earn it and keep earning it.  They work hard; they go above and beyond as students.  And they have given me a name to which I also feel I must continue to earn.  There was a time when the chief among them called me Teacher Lady.  Later, it just became Teacher.  Still later, it was shortened again to Teach.  And then it spread until all the Minions now use it.  I see it in letters, emails, notes on my door, Facebook messages, in the halls and the random places where we meet.  On some level it may seem generic – it is a verb that describes what I do.  I suspect it means a lot more than that and that it carries a lot of weight behind it.  I think.  I’m sometimes not very good at these things. This may sound completely off the wall, but it reminds me of the days when I was called Fang-sama and Sōke (pronounced so-kay).  Which, of course, begs some explanation.

In the game where I met my husband and the people with whom I’ve held the longest friendships I’ve ever had, I played a character that belonged to one of three races.  One race was vaguely Middle Eastern, one was loosely Western European, and the third was based on a blending of various Asian cultures.  The dress, philosophy, culture, and belief system was an amalgamation of mostly Japanese and Chinese cultures of the past.  I chose the third one to play (I was and still am a fan of martial arts movies and even trained Washin-ryu for a little while.  I claim no real knowledge of anything beyond that, I just liked what little I knew).  Since I was the head of the monarchy, which at its largest was 160+ members, it had those same cultural leanings.  We were a role-playing group and so I was my character for many of its members – and I was never anything else.  When they or I left the game, we no longer really existed for one another.  But while we were there, I was Soke – which roughly translates to something like headmaster, head of the family, or even grandmaster.  To some I was Sensei – teacher.  Some went so far as to call me “My Queen” (one still does to this day) or to add –sama to my character’s name.  This last often caused me some measure of embarrassment – for it is an honorific given to one whom is greatly loved, respected, or admired.

Now, this was, of course, in a role-playing game so some amount of hyperbole is to be expected and I certainly don’t personally lay claim to any of those titles or honorifics, though at the time I loved the feel of them in the context of the game.  I was the head of a monarchy and so it was a good feeling to have so many willing to play that role with me and create a vast network of like-minded folks in a game where interactive story telling far surpassed the graphics and story of the game itself. 

Sōke and Teach are very different things, but I treasure them for much the same reasons.  They were given to me by people who chose to give me a name that reflected who I was in their life.  It may seem odd to say, but I've always seen a certain level of parallel to gaming and educating.  I play the role of educator, they play the role of learners.  When the game – the class – is over, they move on and so do I.   We all find new games and new experiences and often, our paths diverge, never more to reunite.  I was their professor, but am no more because they have moved on.  They were my students, but are no more, because our time together has ended.  They may never use the knowledge again in a direct way, but I like to think it has impacted them on some level – just as we may never return to the games of our past, but they forever impact the games we play in the future, even if it is a subtle and indirect and obscure a connection.  But some – some stay, the game changes and the characters change, but they remain.  They are the Minions who let “Hey Teach” roll off their tongues with casual smoothness and grins.  They are the ones who still call me Fang-sama and My Queen – despite that we stopped playing the game over ten years ago.

I started talking about names and ended up talking about teaching and students and, to a larger extent, the impact we have on the people around us.  And games.  There may be names I don’t have anymore, but they are in the Record Book of who I am and how I came to be the person writing this today.  So, I will treasure ‘Teach’ for as long as it is part of my current story…and we will see who keeps using it, who finds a new name, and who fades away leaving good memories and a story behind them as they travel. 

Practical Musings...

I probably shouldn't be writing this right now.  I'm at the point in the semester when I have so many things to do and I'm well aware of the fact that time is running out.  I did very little school work over the weekend.  I carry around the guilt of this like a good Catholic -- though I'm not one.  It's funny, I sometimes miss the days of working in an office.  My job now is one where there is never NOTHING to do.  There's always something I should be grading or commenting on or a class to be preparing for.  So, during those times when I take the time to address other parts of my life, I have guilt.  I really am married to my job....so it's a good thing that I like it.  J. assuaged (or at least tried) my guilt by telling me that I will get it done, just like I always do.  I suspect he's right.

It doesn't help that I've been fighting a cold, had company over the weekend, two birthdays to arrange for, and we're still working on helping our new dog adjust.  All in all, my life is pretty busy and crazy.  And I don't even have kids.  I don't think I would have time for them.  But that's another post...and one that's been discussed elsewhere.

I sat down to this blog with no real idea of what I was going to write.  sometimes, that's all I've got.  Just give me a blank screen and a keyboard and see what happens.  I have to reach that 4-post mark somehow.  I think I'll make a list of things that I'm excited about and use that as a place to find energy in the next weeks.

I'm going camping with my parents and various other important people not once, but TWICE next summer.   Thanksgiving is only a few days away and I love this holiday of taking time to be thankful for family and friends and health.  More on that later this week, I expect.  I managed to make a small difference in the MMO I play -- something that will be fixed in March.  Nice to know that my attention to detail (which has much less pleasant names depending on who you're talking to).  The Cone of Power is alive and well -- and needs a blog about it soon.  I have great friends who still seem to be there, no matter how busy and prickly I might get.  I got to play Arkham Horror yesterday and we actually won.  My family is wonderful, as always.  My household is full of crazy happiness -- two dogs and two cats and a gerbil (not going to dwell on the one who left us this week).  My car should be fixed soon.  I have some great ideas for gifts for Christmas presents -- and some of my hardest shopping is done.  My Q-rosters are done.  I have an interesting schedule next semester with some fun classes in it.  The conference I helped organize went really well and the conversation was amazing.  My presentation seemed pretty good, too.

All in all, life is pretty good, despite bad days and weeks full of things that threaten to shake my tenuous hold on happiness, inner calm, and organized productivity.  Now, I just need to keep holding on and celebrating the good.  The bad can stuff it.  I have things to do.

Meeples and Munchkins...

I once wrote about two flaws I have -- which was not to say that those were the only flaws I have ,they are just the ones that stood out to me at the time for whatever reason.  Today, I will write about another.

First, I want to say that I love playing games.  Not just computer ones, but games that involve tables and dice and sometimes little figurines.  Things that require you to determine battle results and how you will plan your strategy.  My favorite games of late are Munchkin in its many forms.  Arkham Horror (this one has everyone working together -- best game ever for reasons which will soon be clear), Carcasonne in its many forms.  And games where I can spell things.  :)  Nothing like spending hours on some random afternoon gathering cards and setting up elaborate game tableaux.

That said, however, I'm a poor loser.  It's awful, really -- I try so hard to remember that it's just a game and that I shouldn't take it personally or as if the fate of the free world depended on me winning.  Sometimes -- most of the time, sadly -- that intellectual, rational thought will not stop me from getting upset when I'm losing.  I don't ragequit or cry or anything, but I do tend to get really testy with whomever I'm playing.  The worst part is, I can HEAR myself doing it, and yet I cannot always get myself to stop.  The dilemma of emotions not having on/off switches for most of us.  My poor opponent(s) gets to be subjected to petulant Gemini and I get to dig myself into worse holes because it's really hard to play better when you're feeling sorry for yourself.

I'm not a bad player, either -- sometimes I just get a bad draw of cards or my opponent gets really lucky.  Sometimes I make mistakes (don't we all?) and sometimes the other player is better.  In any event, sometimes I whine like the dickens, only to end up winning.  It's horrible.  I can laugh about it afterwards, but what I really want to to find the magic 'Whiny Loser' button somewhere in my silly head and give it a toggle.  And then break it.

Sometimes I can fight it by just being melodramatic in an exaggerated way and just be generally goofy -- telling my opponent to leave me alone or I'll haunt his nightmares.  Begging for mercy.  Casting aspersions on his ancestors.  That sort of thing.  I have found this sort of goofy hyperbole can stave off the frustration of losing and, by extension, losing all my confidence.

I also tend to stick to games that, while they have one clear winner, tend to rely more on luck or on personal accomplishment than specifically 'Crush your Opponent' as the main objective.

So...to everyone I play games with...thank you for your patience in the face of Whiny Loser and I promise you that I will continue to work on it. In the meantime, just leave my meeples and munchkins alone.

Please?  :)

The Only Way…

As most of my friends and family know, I'm pretty much always on the go, always doing something, always working on a project of some sort. It's frustrating to them quite a bit of the time, I'm sure. They tell me I make them tired, they tell me I should learn to say no, they demand I tell them when I sleep. And that last part is what leads me to the purpose of this blog. It's to show just how deep the geek in me really goes. When I finally decide it's time to shut out the lights and get some sleep, I find myself lying in the dark thinking about all the things I am currently in the middle of and wondering how classes will go the next day and what I want to do over the weekend, and what my next blog will be about, and…well, you get the idea. I find it horribly difficult to shut my mind off. Sometimes, it's terrible. As Calvin once said, "night time is dark so you can imagine your fears with less distraction" which means that too often, I start to worry (77). My insecurities, emboldened by the security of darkness, come on out and run rampant. So, my night times are often spent wondering, planning, worrying, or being too eager for the next day. They say it takes, on average, 7 minutes to fall asleep. But that's only when you can stop thinking long enough to actually shut down. Over the years, I've developed techniques to distract my mind with a project that requires no notebook, pen, computer, conversation, or calendar. I've developed things to do to keep tomorrow at bay and allow me to get some sleep so I can have a clean reboot to start over the next day. Here is my confession.

I play word games in my head.

I give myself a challenge that involves the alphabet – think of ten words that start with 'A' and are five letters long, then 'B' and so on. Think of ten actors whose first name starts with 'A' and name a movie each is in. Name ten adjectives that start with 'A'. The games run over several nights – sometimes more nights than I remember. I probably do the same letter more than once because I can't remember where I left off. I'll get stuck on the same letter and spend two weeks trying to think of a ninth and tenth word of four letters that starts with 'O'. I lose count and have to start over. None of those things matter, really – what matters is that I'm not thinking about Middle States or how many papers I have left to grade, or how the laundry needs to get done and the gerbil cage needs to get changed. I'm not thinking about how I'm going to reach that one student in the back who is continually disengaged or whether anyone remembers that dumb thing I said at the last department meeting. Sometimes I move through the letters quickly, but then I always hit that one letter where it slows down just a little, and I'm so dedicated to finishing what I started that my whole being slows down as I try to think of the next word, and then the next. Eventually, instead of the next word, my mind finds sleep and peace. I will pick it up the next night…

There is something soothing about words…they are steadfast and powerful, limited and amorphous. The games remind me of how much I love words and how this helps me relearn the joy of them in a world where the 10 second email takes precedence over a well crafted sentence much of the time. When I was younger, I did myself a disservice by limiting my external vocabulary in order to limit the repercussions of being too smart. I was, then, a nerd. Socially awkward, I spent my time reading and doing crossword puzzles and not much caring for the basketball team or the latest television show. I couldn't shake the words completely, though, for I still wrote poetry and worked on the high school literary magazine. Much of my love of words stayed a private thing, helping me get through my days and the now-trivial drama of youth. And that love is with me still.

My words and my love of language never really left me, and here, in the quiet of the night, is one place where joy of words finds its voice – serving me in yet another way and keeping my mind sharp even as the edges of my consciousness grow fuzzy and fade into sleep…



Watterson, Bill. The Indispensible Calvin and Hobbes. Kansas City; Andrews McMeel Publishing, 1992. Print.