Same Lame Name
When you google Viloria, http://www.VILORIA.com first tops the results. It’s some Filipino culture site, with a technically neat page. Next goes http://www.ManuelViloria.com and then a cluttered distribution of news and Wiki about the boxer, Brian Viloria. Yes, he’s a distant relative of mine, something I find difficult to elaborate when the counter asks my name and she blurts, “Are you in any genetic relationship with Brian Viloria?”
When you google Barry, a reputable site for a school in Miami appears. Dandy, yes, but I’ve never known that there was some place named Barry University.
When you google Cyrus, The Great appears. He who founded the Persian Empire bearing some expansive influence in world history.
When you google Barry Cyrus, this insensate blog appears chiefly. A friend once verified if my last name is Cyrus, leading to my unlikely connection with the pop singer Miley. Blech. Google-able though isn’t necessarily flattering for what if my relatives (mum, dad, etcetera!) discover it? My mess would make them throw me out of their houses (they live separately).
In freshman high school, our homeroom instructor gave us some exciting assignment to research our own names. I grabbed a huge Merriam dictionary to heed her; there was this latter section where a name is etymologized. Barry meant straightforward. And Cyrus was gotten from a sun god.
It was cool how it went coz obviously and most of the time, names do not reflect the personality of the respective persons bearing it. I’m not entirely straightforward but I could be frankly harsh. And for the sun god, I am a fan of the radiance of that golden star! I love summer and getting a tan for me is cute.
Names can be so friggin scandalous at the same time. Remember Howie Severino‘s documentary on names? I think it was titled “Sa Ngalan ng Pangalan,” or something. There existed Filipinos who had last names which could be victims of domestic jokes like Bagongahasa (meaning, newly-harassed) and Pekpek (meaning, a woman’s crotch area). It wasn’t exactly humorous though, one who went to study marine sciences in Manila was verbally plagued by his classmates so he chose to just go farming back in the province.
On one hand, names could be so amusing. I have an orgmate whose name is Mafoxci, based on her birth date (MArch, FOur, XCI— short for the Roman numeral counterpart of 1991). I wrote a review of the same documentary in my sociology last year, and got an uno, bragging aside. The point is, names are not just smattering that we can throw out of our lives just instantly.
As for me, I love my name. I get to be the champion in the alphabetically ordered schemes of life.