Unringing the Bell

Montag, 14. September 2009

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My name is Tricia. It is not Patricia. My mother is Patricia, and as she likes to tell it she named me after her except with me she dropped the Paaaaaaaaaaa. Old men love to call me Patricia. In fact, they nearly insist on it. Some friends, (hi, Paul), like to call me Patty because they know I hate it. I liken being called Patricia to what it must feel like to be named Mathew or Kevin or Lance and called Pamatthew, Pakevin or Palance. Or even, (hi, Paul) Papaul. Calling me Patty is like calling someone named Joe, Dougie. But I am really not bitter about it. Some people say, "So Trish--oh, do you prefer Tricia or Trish?" To this, I can honestly say I don't have a preference. I will answer to either and though I almost always introduce myself as Tricia, Trish has a nice familiar feel that I am tending towards the liking of. (Did you like that passive voice there?)
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