The Film Noir Experience

My brilliant idea of posting every day last week in order to keep up and review the Welsh I have learned crashed and burned on Tuesday. And, I paid for it this morning. There was a new teacher today filling in for our normal Monday teacher. She had a brilliantly Welsh name, Angharad.

Now, how great is that?

Names are interesting. They are these little verbal markers of persons and places and things. Vocal and written reminders not of what something or somebody is, but who they are. They can be a very big deal and getting someone's name wrong, transgressing that little bit by altering or forgetting or somehow misusing that marker can be incredibly unnerving and can cause a tussle.

Ever been talking to someone you used to be friends with ages ago? Ever not be able to remember their name? You knew it, in fact you used to use it all the time. Now, its just slipped right past you. How awkward is that? Now, add a significant other stopping by that you, by the rules of etiquette should introduce, and that awkwardness reaches a feverish level because you could be caught out.

Ever given someone a nickname and have them not take kindly to it? That's happened quite a bit to me since I've moved to Wales. I get called "Kath" a lot, which I don't like. I understand that it is an awful lot of work to pronounce the whole three sllyables of my name, especially when you are busy processing things at 5 sllyables a second but, don't ask me what my name is if you're immediately just going to change it.

But, even worse than that.... "Kathy". I have heard with increasing frequency, "Aww, Johnny and Kathy."

Excuse me? I don't fucking think so. "Kathy" (or "Cathy" as that is how she spells it.) is an overworked, office monkey in a trendy skirt that doesn't flatter her body type who is freaked out about food, work, clothing and men and has on way too much eye makeup. I give you this as an example. Although Cathy appears to be wearing no eye makeup she is clearly wearing some sort of matching shirt and skirt combination that divides her in the middle and makes her look like overly round. And, here, while she is not freaking out, you can tell it is anticipated because everyone is freaking out around her and running towards her aid.

I am not Cathy. Or, Kathy. Or, Kath. I am Katharine. If this is just too much effort, you may call me either Kate or Kat. (See how nice I am providing you with two options?)