Some writers’ names have becomes adjectives: Kafkaesque, marxist, Orwellian, sadistic. If your name (or nickname, or blog name) were to become an adjective, what would it mean?

My name? No easy to turn it in an adjective. It’s a popular slavic name with no special meaning. I’m not so haughty as to think I have merits to associate to it. I’m an average woman with a normal life. I had an intense profesional life as a reporter but nothing spectacular.

When I was a little kid I was ashamed of my name because the only other being named like me in my neighbourhood was a dog. A very aggressive guardian dog. Those years I guess that for my teachers my name would spell trouble. “Oh, yes, we got lots and lots a’ trouble,” I imagine them singing at my arrival at school. “Trouble, oh we got trouble” would sing also my former bosses sometimes when we disagree. I was stubborn and I wasn’t afraid to stand my ground.

I Guess I’m exaggerating and I wasn’t so big trouble after all. I finished school with good grades and I worked for 25 years for the same boss.

But the only concept apart for normalcy I immediately associated to my name was trouble. And I reminded the old song from The Music Man:

Trouble, oh we got trouble,
Right here in River City!
With a capital “T”
That rhymes with “P”
And that stands for Pool,
That stands for pool.
We’ve surely got trouble!
Right here in River City,
Right here!
Gotta figure out a way
To keep the young ones moral after school!
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble…

A Name for Yourself.

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