Zoe. An uncommon and seemingly juvenile name, yet eloquently simple. This is the name that fluttered its way between my tiny fingers on the day of my birth. Its wings were velvety, its flight was feminine, and its title was almost my own. Almost.
Ceilidh. Although it neither looks nor sounds like “Kaylee”, this is surprisingly how you pronounce my name. Ceilidh stems from the Old Irish word meaning “companion” in English as well as the Gaelic word for “festival” or “music”. However, the horrific attempts of teachers, classmates, and coaches to correctly say my name have been anything but mellifluous.
It is terrifically difficult having a name like this. You get to watch all of your friends frolic through life thinking little of their common titles while you endure storms of mockery of for your own. What your parents intended to be unique curses you for life. Mine thought they were being marvelously clever by finding a word so deeply rooted within the Irish language to bestow upon their first little girl. However, there are few things I would not do to reverse my seventeen years solely for a name change to something plain like Emma or Katherine.
In comparison with simple names like Zoe, my name is the kraken. Replace the silky wings with tentacles and the satin sound of flight with a guttural snarl. Step into a world of rude substitute teachers who actually tell you that your name is improperly spelled on the class roster. Bid farewell to any chance of finding your name on the cheesy display of keychains at beachside shops and say goodbye to simple coffee orders at the local Starbucks on icy mornings. A slice of life’s simplicity is essentially stolen from you when people refer to you as “Seliduh” or “Kuhleed”. Laugh all you want and, honestly, be eternally glad that this is not you.
But where would I be without this beast of a name? What sense of humor would I have without thinking of all the failed endeavors to pronounce “Ceilidh”?
The number of arrogant humans who think that they have deciphered my name upon a first attempt could fill a squalid nineteenth century tenement home. I like to think of them crammed in a building searching for space under the smothering normalcy of their own names. People have a tendency to mock anything they cannot understand, and throughout my life, I have learned that my name dwells far outside the category of common knowledge.
It is absolutely sublime having a peculiar name like this. You get to watch all your friends envy the way people slowly beam as you tell them the story of an Irish twilight brimming with celebration . What your parents knew would be something gorgeous benefits you in the end. In fact, there are few things I would not do to go back seventeen years for the chance to help my parents select “Ceilidh” myself.
Simplicity is quickly taken from you when you are not given a name like Zoe. However, if you are lucky enough to have as bizarre of a name as I do, laugh all you wish. Be infinitely thankful that this is you.
