Les is more (more or less)

I don’t know when it started, but at some point in my life I started to hate my name. Just my first name, I actually quite like my surname (go James!). I know it’s not rational, but I can’t help but think, what kind of name is “Leslie?” It’s a boy’s name, first off. Secondly, it has no good short form, unless you want to be called “Les” (which I am, by pretty much everyone who knew me before 2005, when I became Ellie). But “Les” is just less. Less than what? Less than whom? I don’t like “Les.” Thirdly, “Leslie” doesn’t mean anything cool. The two definitions I have for Leslie are low meadow and gray fortress. In contrast, my brothers are named after the God of War, and the Angel that slew the dragon. And what do I get? Gray fortress. A pile of bricks.

My almost-life-long hatred of my name has caused me to be obsessed with names. That’s why I enjoyed this article in the Wall Street Journal so much. I especially loved the following expert:

“France passed a law in the early 1800s that prohibited all names except those on a preapproved list; the last of these laws was repealed in 1993. In Germany, the government still bans invented names and names that don't clearly designate a child's sex. Sweden and Denmark forbid names that officials think might subject a child to ridicule. Swedish authorities have rejected such names as Veranda, Ikea and Metallica.”
Bitchin! I so want a law in Canada that prohibits a) made-up names and b) stupid spellings of real names. These horrible, misspelled names aren’t helping the kids any. They’re going to grow up hating having to tell people, “No, I spell Joshua ‘J-o-s-h-a-w-a’” Or constantly repeating their name to people who thought they misheard it the first time. “No, I said Toolyne.” (Or something. I don’t have a knack for making up stupid, fake baby names).

There are thousands of names, you’d think people could find one they like without having to make it illiterate, or making one up from scratch.