By Holly Georgious
I am a first generation Georgious. (I guess technically I am a first and a ½ but that’s a story for another day.)
Being a Georgious is both a blessing and a curse. I love my name, make no mistake. It is the diamond encrusted needle in a whole heap of tragic Greek haystacks. I could have just as easily been Holly Voulgaropoulos (making my initials HPV), Holly Zika (would have been interesting two summers ago) or even my personal favourite (courtesy of a certain University Challenge contestant) Holly Papaphilippous (* God help me if it was that……unless reader that just so happens to be your surname in which case * – high pitched voice – *it’s lovely!)
Being Georgious has a lot of positives. It is the joke you are always in on, a nickname that brings with it an instant closeness. On the gloomiest of days, it is the sporadic rays of sunshine brought on by people (deliberately or genuinely) confusing it with its adjective sibling. And in a world where everyone seems to be butting heads it is nice for the armistice to be legally bound to you.
It is, in all situations but one (airports), an icebreaker, a topic of conversation, with a guaranteed to and fro. But there are times, few may they be, when being Georgious can be tiring. A name of that stature seldom lets you sink into the background. You can’t be a book worm, or seamstress, a shy and quiet type. No. Georgious is what you’re known as it is who you are. There is no mistaken identify, no way off passing a mistake off as someone else’s, it is you and for better or worse it is known.
Like the perfect red dress, it stands out from the crowd, draws attention to itself, but it is watched. Every slip, dip and stumble forever marked against your name. The name.
And then comes the worst of it – the People who think you are trying to be, whacky, quirky, clever or cool. In situations like these I cannot figure out what’s worse; that people believe I am arrogant enough to actually name myself after a compliment, or that I would go to the time effort of spelling it wrong, just to make it more believable. (And by a stroke of cruel irony my dyslexia prevents me from correctly spelling the word that I my name masquerades as.)
And yet despite all this I love it.
As a Georgious you get membership of the club. The coolest and most exclusive club I know. A place filled with scientists, inventors, and actors. A club where there is culture, there is love, there is determination, generosity and drive. And there right in the middle live the best people I have ever met, the kindest people I have ever known and the only people I could not live without. My family. And I wouldn’t trade that for the world.
So I guess all there is to say is Hi, my name Holly Gorgeous** and I bloody love it.