It is obscenely late, but I've got some blathering to do.
The reason I'm up this late is not because I drank a whole cup of Big Train Chai - a singularly delightful beverage containing 8,000 calories a cup and about a zillion hours of eye-twitching, caffeinated energy - but because there are ten million great blogs out there which I must review. If they are worth a read, they are also usually worth a comment too, and sometimes - this is rare but still possible - worth following as well. Understandably, this reviewing process takes time. So it's all these other blogs' faults that I can't get to sleep at a reasonable hour. I'd go to bed if I could. Truly. But I'm resigned to my fate.
Recently, I have spent many a happy hour scrolling through baby name websites, recalling the names of favorite book characters and sitting on a log, bashing my fist against my forehead while shouting, "think, think, think!"
Why, you might reasonably ask?
Answer! Daily Double!
Because I recently realized that, if I ever become famous, I will need a stage name. "Need" because no human being on earth can pronounce my last name. At least, not with confidence or without butchering it. Famous people - according to Wikipedia - usually change cumbersome names so fans will be able to say and spell without fear. If I decide to become famous when I grow up - it's either that or own a bookshop with a Starbucks attached, I can't choose - I would probably need a different last name. I can't reliably spell my surname; once, in elementary school, during an SAT test (not the best situation for me to begin with) I suddenly thought, dropping my pencil in shock, "what if I've been spelling my last name wrong all theses years and everyone else is actually right?!" I ended up agonizing over the PRINT NAME section for twenty minutes while all the other eight year olds gave me venomous looks, evil vibes steaming from their pores.