You again.

Your multi-syllable self might be quaking at the moment considering how quickly my patience has dwindled when dealing with you in the past, almost always introducing myself in a way that omits you entirely.

And of course, we can’t forget that my “When I Become A Rock Star” plan includes losing you completely, Beyoncé style.

I don’t blame you for being nervous to hear from me, because I would be too after wreaking havoc for a solid 19 years -- and that’s just with me.

You see, you’ve been quite mischievous for something that is only comprised of nine letters.

You have led to principals mispronouncing my introduction at school events, substitute teachers not even attempting to use you when calling attendance and have given me the duty of re-writing each misspelling, of which there are plenty. You would be surprised at how creative people get with your nine letters.

I have broken your pronunciation into syllables following the expected “How do you pronounce your last name?” during many first-impressions. Then, when that hasn’t worked, I have explained your pronunciation using commonly known words for each syllable -- “Core,” as in the Earth, “Stan” as in Stanley, and then add a quick “j” sound at the end. (People really struggle with the “j”)

You’ve been a mouthful -- pun intended.

But, I’m not here to detail the mayhem in your wake. Instead, I want to send a little positivity your way.

More recently, I have begun to appreciate your odd little self. I’d like to think that I am a bit privileged to have such a unique final moniker.

To begin with, not once have I come across another non-relative that shares you with me. This idiosyncratic quality makes me admire you right off the bat because individuality is always something to be praised.

On that same note, never have I ever -- and I mean ever -- been mistaken for another in conversation. Unlike the John Browns and Ally Smiths of the world, there is zero need for clarity when my name comes up in conversation, thanks to you. Granted, that hasn’t been super important as of late, but isn’t it just slightly comforting knowing that, because of you, I will never be confused for, say, some villainous being that just so happens to share my name and live in the same country as I do? Yeah. It’s the little things in life.

Further, the history surrounding you is just flat out cool, and I am eager to unearth more as I amble through life. You were carried into this country by my great-grandparents, fairly recently when looking at the history of America, and apparently had some difficulty with spelling even back then. I still don’t entirely understand why one half of the family spells you differently from the other, but I fully intend to find out. (Side note: You thought your last name was difficult -- the spelling of mine varies from my father to my uncles. Yeah, try to figure that one out.)

Anyway, back to the point.

I know I sigh and grumble when spelling you out, and I know that probably won’t stop anytime soon, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m glad to be identified by your jumble of nine letters.

If given the choice between an easily comprehended, four-letter title and your seemingly-random combination, well, I’d like to think that I would choose you every time.