What's in a name?

On this, the presumptive week of Shakespeare’s 450^th birthday, it seems apropos - if not the least bit trite - that my first ever blog title bow to the Bard.  The “name” to which I refer is Curls Gone Wilde - the official name of my brand-spanking-shiny-new blog.  Now those who know me well will most certainly flinch, if not chuckle, at the name.  Curls? Check.  That piece is undeniable.  Wild(e)?  That one will be harder to sell, but bear with me.

 

The fact is, I’m a detail-oriented, arguably (but undiagnosed) OCD, prone to bouts of excessive nail-biting lawyer and mom.  Typos cause me physical angst and crumbs on the kitchen floor have lives cut short on my watch.  I’ve long postponed the idea of (gulp) non-business-related writing, for fear that I could never be/write/think/express as clearly and perfectly as I intend.  A blank, white page is - arguably - perfection.  There has been no mistake made, no reader offended, no comma misplaced, no long-held secret shared.  The prospect of a blank page and a clean slate is, after so many years of schooling, working, parenting, living, and making (truly innumerable) mistakes, a delicious prospect to be savored.  At least that’s how I felt for the past several years up until about 20 minutes ago. 

That’s when I did it.  I named this blog and started writing.  The me of 20 minutes ago would have obsessed about the name of this blog for a long, long time.  The me of 20 minutes ago would have checked and double-checked (maybe triple-checked) that the name wasn’t already taken,[1] that it was the perfect fit, that it didn’t make me seem too dry or too bizarre or too anything, really.  But as of 20 minutes ago, I’ve gone - WILD.  (Relatively speaking.) I’m going to cover this page - and pages to come - with words and mess. I’m likely going to offend someone and definitely going to add extraneous commas and hyphens - but most assuredly going to let this mess take whatever shape it darn well pleases, grammar and consequences be damned!  WILD, I tell you!

This morning, I did everything in my power to get the details right:  breakfasts, clothes, lunches, teeth brushed, suntan lotion applied, on-time drop off, on-time arrival at work.  As part of that routine, I endeavored to tame my own head of unruly curls and attempted to tame two additional tiny heads of curls. It’s a process no one enjoys not only because of the knots (oh those armies of angry little knots - where do you come from every night?!), but because - let’s face it - curls like ours, they just don’t WANT to be tamed.  And so I sat.  And I opened this page. And I ripped out that god-forsaken, always-slightly-too-tight hair band.  And just as I sit both challenged and hugged by an unruly, messy, not-always-aesthetically-pleasing, but nonetheless natural and freed head of wild curls, so too will this writing adventure both challenge and free me as I breathe, and create, and just be.  Thanks for joining me, knots and all.

---

[1] I should have known. No need for internet research when Google won’t let me choose a name already taken. "Wild" was snapped up.  But "Wilde" - a playful nod to a brilliant playwright known, in part, for his guilty pleasures?  Works for me.