A-l-e-f as in Friday

I made up my name, by the way. It's a fake last name.

I heard alefhi, alefhi in some Arabic song in like 1995 and it stuck in my head.
My friend Megan had changed her name, just like she'd gotten a nose ring, and I copied her on that too, so I thought, what the hell.


I started using it when I left for Ireland and got real used to it during the 6-month trip. Started using it with friends who would never need to see proof of it when I returned, and then officially changed it when I'd gotten divorced in 1999. My justification was that I had never changed my name to my husband's when I got married, so it was delightfully ironic to change it to reflect a change in myself with a name I simply chose.

The entire process from conception to the trip to Portland City Hall to changing my Social Security card went off without any doubt or second guessing on my part. But I have to laugh when I look back and realize how every engine of my life is a consistent and systematic lunge with %100 inspiration and %0 research.

The name. So I heard the word in a song. I didn't know how to spell it and therefore couldn't divine its meaning. I picked it because it actually sounded more Arabic than my true Arabic last name (which sounded Italian because of Welcome to Ellis Island). I found myself unprepared for questions about where the name came from when challenged. Mostly I would say 'it's Syrian (read: I'm Syrian and you probably don't know any Arabs so fuck off) and that would suffice, I would get the usual rye smile that exoticism brings to the American and conversation would continue. But occasionally people would ask me what it means. "I have no idea", I could answer honestly.

I have now come to learn that actually, my name is pretty damn close to the Hebrew letter aleph. And there it is.

Here's something I never bargained for back in 1999 when the legal change seemed like an awesome idea: SPELLING. Well I guess when you make up a name based on nothing it is not going to follow the rules of spelling. I spell my name into a phone several times a week. With email and the internet I do it now much less, but I am scarred for life. Hurry up and marry me Jon so I can have the name of a white person that I will never have to spell again.

"Alefhi".
"What?"
"It's a wierd name. A-l-e-f-h-i."
"L-a-e -"
"A-L-E-F as in Friday H-I"
"(attempted respelling"
"(third attempt)"

This is no exaggeration. I now understand I will spell it an average of 3 times and that I should go very, very slowly. But what I will not do is use 'F as in Frank'. If I wanted a boring fucking Frank I never would have changed my fucking name! You people are lucky I don't say 'F as in flashdance' or 'F as in francois'. I tried a few different F words and settled on Friday and so far, so good. Fabulous.



I also once sold a car and accepted a personal check that bounced me into a negative balance because I couldn't be bothered to get a cashier's check instead. Or a name, address, phone number perhaps because 'it'll be OK, man' (read: the Simpsons were on TV and the guy had already been here too long).

And to think that for one semester in junior high, I was in Honor's classes.