Please never call me a man’s name.

I have 2 names. Even though Marcy is just a nickname, it has been around long enough, and I’m called Marcy by enough people, that I consider it, well not the same as my real name, but close. The problem lies in shortening it, which often happens. Well, I guess just shortening it in writing is the problem. For example, shorten Marcy to one syllable in your mind, sans the –ee sound at the end. Now think about how you would spell it. When you see Marc, you want to say Mark. And when you see Mars, you say Marz. I could spell it Marss, I guess, but that looks weird and still doesn’t necessarily get the point across. Plus, I generally don’t write it-- it’s usually other peeps writing to me, for example in an email that says, “Hey Marc, how’s your day?”
Oh well. What’s a girl to do?

So my real name is Melissa and I feel like most of you know that. And if not, you obviously haven’t clicked on my e-mail address on my profile page. There are several nicknames for Melissa and I have been called all of them.

Missy: My family calls me this and I like it fine. I think it is sweet. I am not the kind of girl who would ever go by Missy though.

Melis: I like this one also. I guess I just like nicknames in general, unless they are masculine.

Ed and Amy in my office are always calling me Melis. My boss has never used it, but obviously he has heard everyone else using it. Amy told me that once she was in with our boss when he was on the phone. He told the woman on the phone that she needed to contact me, and said to her, “Oh, you need to talk with Melissa in our office about that. Just give her a call. Actually, she goes by Melis. That’s M-E-L-I-S…”

Mel: I hate this one. I think it has to do with the masculine nature of the word, similar to Marc. The only person who has ever called me Mel when I didn’t cringe was Rudy. And that was years ago, and he was handsome and from the Dominican Republic. So unless you fit those criteria, please refrain.

That reminds me of a wooden carving my grandparents used to have hanging in their kitchen. I remember when I was really young, maybe 5 or 6, always reading it and trying to figure out what it meant. It said, “If you don’t like someone, the way he holds his spoon will drive you crazy. If you do like him, he can dump his plate in your lap and you won’t mind.” I remember asking my dad what it meant, and he explained it to me. But I didn’t truly understand until years later.

During that time I was home schooled, just for a about a year and a half, then I went to public school, then a Catholic school, then back to a public school. Anyway, the other day I stumbled on a blog by a homeschooler, “My life as a Teenage Partial Insomniac” by a 14-year-old in Missouri. In my tradition of bookmarking teenage blogs, I did so. What I found so strange is, only after reading this blog for over a month, did I realize I had been mistaken the entire time in thinking it was a boy writing it. It disturbed me that I had made this huge mistake and I wanted to go back and re-read all her blogs and see if I had missed any major clues about her gender.

Speaking of teenage blogs, I was sad to see today that The Alex Morrisse has decided not to blog anymore.