I'm not done with my name

No,not yet. Welcome to round 2 of the name-bashing. In my other post, 'Whts in a nme?' (still hurts to type words like that!), among other things, I said "Yes,I know my name isn't all that bad". I write today,because I think otherwise.

It all started with a classmate making fun of my name. Strange as it may seem, I've never been made fun of,over my name. Nicknames,yes. Crazy reactions and pronunciations,yes. But no one ever told me "Funny name! Haha!" and went on to deform my already handicapped name.Not until now. I was angry. Why me? Why do I have such a lame name? This frustration eventually led to curiosity(God knows how). I wanted to know more about my name. So I've been named after a Roman Goddess. Which Goddess? Whats the story built around her? And what does an aging teenager do,when faced with questions like these? Google.
I looked up 'Roman Goddess Merin' ,on Google. The link to my previous post(where I've mentioned the whole Goddess thing) sat on top of the result screen. My heart sank. As in, no other site on the www spoke of Roman Goddesses known by the name Merin? More research!!! I typed in 'Origin of name Merin' but apart from learning arbit possibilities of the origin, I was slapped across the face,again,with the fact that 'Merin' is not-a-feminine name. And well, no Roman Goddesses. Now I had just one option left. I called out, "Maa!".

Me: Ma,I ran a google search on my name..
Mom: So? Have nothing better to do now that your internals are over?
Me: Listen! There's nothing about any Roman Goddess with my name!!
..
Mom: *grins*
..
Me: *stare* What?
Mom: Took you so long to figure this out?
...
Voice in my head : WTF?! Does she mean what I think she means?! No way man! This is outrageous! Say something! Anything!!!
..
Me: What? *more of the lame my-last-brain-cell-just-died staring*
Mom: Oh it isn't the name of any Roman Goddess. Your dad and I just liked it.
Me: You mean...?! What the hell does my name mean then?! (Oh a couple of 'em cells were alive!)
Mom: We just liked the name. We didn't know what to tell you,so we thought Roman Goddess sounded nice.
Me: You lied to me all my life?! (No,this is not the effect of watching saas-bahu shows. Trust me,you actually react this way,in situations like this.)
Mom: Ok,sorry. But for me, it'll always mean Roman Goddess,ok?
Me: Who in-the-f'ing-name-of-Lewis-Hamilton cares what you would like to think?! You lied?! However did you come up with this name then? Where'd you find it?!
Mom: The Pandit told us your name had to begin with m and we wanted a 5 letter name. And your dad's name starts with m and my name begins with n. So we just put this all in together.
Me: (After spending 15 seconds trying to digest that) So you just had m---n and you filled in random alphabets in the middle?!
Mom: Look I don't remember how we came up with it, but its no big deal. You're my Goddess,ok? Its just a name. (And walks off,making me feel highly immature).

Voice in my head: No,wait,Just a name?! Hello? Its my name. Its like the frikkin' passport number that your passport bears or the whatever code the processor-chip of your computer has! Only much more important!! Come back!

But that stayed in my head. I felt like I'd been robbed. (Don't you call me dramatic,you haven't spent 19 years being called 'merin'!). My name actually had no proper origin/meaning/gender. This was sad. The pathetic, jump-into-the-path-of-a-moving-cycle type sad. I sat in my room for a while,along with my different personalities,trying to cope with the truth.

It wasn't very long before I went back to Google. 'Merin' has to have a meaning! It has to exist somewhere! I'm a frikkin' Goddess!! And I found a page alright. A page that spoke of a Deity named Merin. And how I wish I'd never looked for it!
So there exists a Deity of the name 'Olori Merin',worshiped by the Yoruba-Speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast of West Africa. Then again, its a HE. He's a God. But that's not the worst thing I was to find out. Here's exactly what that site had to say :

Olori-merin, possessor of four heads, is another god whose worship is nearly, if not quite, obsolete. He was the tutelary deity of towns, and was represented by a hillock, or, if no hillock existed within the precincts of the town, by an artificial mound.

Sacrifice was made to Olori-merin every three months, or four times a year, and always consisted of a new-born child not more than three or four days' old. The child's throat was cut by a priest, and the blood, caught in a calabash or earthen vessel, was placed on the summit of the mound, after which the flesh was sliced up into small pieces and buried in the mound. During this dreadful scene the mother had to be present. This sacrifice was called Ejodun (Eje-odun), "The season of blood."

Olori-merin had, as his name betokens, four heads, with which he watched the four points of the compass from the top of his mound, and it was believed that no war or pestilence could attack a town under his protection. He had the legs and feet of a goat. Sometimes, at -night, he appeared in the shape of a venomous serpent.
(If you think I'm SO messed up in the head that I would cook this up, here's the site. )

Now I have every right to scream, WHY ME?! Couldn't my parents have thought of some other set of alphabets to complete their ever-so-special m---n puzzle?! This flood of self-pity suddenly made way for enlightenment. The truth. Stark reality, if I'm allowed to make this sound fancy. Names are said to affect personalities...aren't they?

Now we know the root-cause of my spooky ideas! Next time I joke around saying "I need to see blood! or I'm going to slit his throat with a blunt knife,Joker style! or I'll frikkin' chop him into pieces,yank his intestines out and feed it to dogs!", you know whom to blame. Its NOT my fault. I was born normal; but over the years, my name worked on a couple of those personalities I shelter. And there was once a time when I thought a couple of disturbing Marilyn Manson songs that I liked made my brain think extreme,when frustrated.

When I reported my findings to my (permutation-combination loving) mother,she walked away,laughing-but I saw shock and a tinge of fear in those eyes. For those of you who haven't dismissed this as a ridiculous post by a jobless engineering student whose life revolves around her name(ahem...anybody?), you've no reason to worry. No,really. Nothing changes but for the one statement I would proudly announce when asked about the meaning or origin of my name. I'll probably spend the next one hour spoiling my soul with self-pity and then I should be back to my weird-er old ways. :)



Meanwhile, I prepared a wish-list(number1,draft1) for Christmas/New Years. I haven't asked for better hair/better genes et all, because they've featured on the list way too often(and have been ingored everytime). I've not asked for world peace and a solution to Global Warming because sane statements have always been a misfit in this blog. Here's what I'd like to ask for:

1. A Ferrari Fiorano 599. Yes, I frikkin' know that's too much to ask for,so how about flight and race tickets to ANY Formula1 race next season? (Preferably Imola or Belgium :) )

2. Hmmm,lets see.. more than 5 exam-less days per semester,in college? Wouldn't that be lovely!

3. A new brain. The last one I bought can't be used as it submitted itself to this disease they call 'rusting' and the one I'm using right now has to be discarded as repeated attempts at defrosting have failed. (This shows not only on the blog but also in my exam results.)

4. Santa/Mom-Dad can choose between a new vehicle, hormone-overpowering grey matter and make-me-a-good-programmer pills.

5.Like duh!, a new name. ( We're not past the one-hour mark yet.)




P.S. To certain members of the society who will find bright opportunities in this post :
Crude jokes about the new found connection this five lettered thing called name has,will not go down well with my system. This entire rant must be enough for you to understand that. If it isn't,I can always call upon snakes-at night. Ha!