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Date Posted: 11:14:21 03/01/03 Sat
Author: jared
Subject: The bastardized Scribblings

The Secret Life of Javier

With bachelorism once again draped across my shoulders like a velvet dressing gown I managed to meet my Mum for dinner the other night. Like all mothers she offered be sympathy in generous doses before ripping it away with a slight comment.

"You know I actually wanted to name you Javier, but the nurses at the hospital couldn't pronounce it right so I settled for Jared."

"Whuh?"

"They kept saying 'Jay -vee - er' instead of 'Ha -vee-air'. They managed to get the hang of Jared rather quickly, but I was always slightly disappointed."

The news settled like a quarter-pounder in the base of my stomach. And I began to wonder. Wonder about blonde-haired, blue-eyed Javier Wilkins. How would his life and been different from Jared's? Is my current status and place in life the result of my name? Can I, to paraphrase Milli-Vanilli, 'Blame it on the name'?

I had been thinking of escape a great deal lately. Escape from just about everything. Life was on the offensive and I wanted to kick out its kneecap, punch it twice in the head and then run into the night. Javier, I knew, would be fitter and taller. Javier would be writing for a living. Javier would be in politics. Javier would be able to maintain a relationship. Javier wouldn't be allergic to cats. Javier could match a tie and shirt. Javier is everything I am not. Javier is, quite simply, a cop-out.

I can't blame what I am on a name. Even though I look for a scape-goat to assuage my own guilt I can't blame it on my mother's choice for my name. I have made my own decisions. Javier can't save me from them. I am pulling myself back up, dusting myself off and settling into the velvet dressing gown. Things are different. Not better or worse. Playing the 'What If?' game isn’t good for anyone.

Javier Wilkins. What was my mother thinking? That name wouldn't have helped.

Now Elvis on the other hand……………

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