"Uhhh..Could You Spell That?"

Who should be studying for her giant geology midterm tomorrow morning? This girl. Who is pinteresting/facebooking/blogging instead? This girl. (Don't worry Mom, I'll get it together).

Quick: pop quiz time!
How do you pronounce my last name, Arceneaux? (even blogspot doesn't believe that it's a word...)
a. ahh-sin-no
b. are-sin-ox
c. arson-ee-oh
d. are-suh-no
e. I try to never say your last name for fear that I'll mispronounce it or spell it wrong. In fact, you are only Taylor A. in my phone. I'm too intimidated.

Now for the best part: what do these answers say about you? (I'm like a Cosmo quiz! But without inappropriate questions: BONUS!)
If you said A...you are probably Paul. That's how he says my name when he wants to annoy me. Which is all the time. 
If you chose B...you are in good company. 97% of people that attempt pronunciation decide this is correct. 97% of people are wrong.
If you went with the ever-popular when in doubt pick C...you are a rarity. Consider yourself unique! But still wrong.
If you picked D...we are probably friends. But if you are a stranger and chose D I am in awe. Gold star. If I knew you I might bake you cookies for that accomplishment. 
If you said E...grow a pair (pear? Ke$ha confused me forever) and pronounce it now with confidence. We'll work on spelling next.

I first recognized the weird-ness of my last name when I was maybe 6 or 7 and checking out books from the church library. There I was, clutching my latest Amelia Bedelia thriller and inching my way towards the checkout. I eyed my idols in line in front of me and longed for the day that I too would have hair down to my butt (because that's clearly the sign of adulthood). Finally, it was my turn. I swiped a butterscotch from the candy dish on the counter (minding Shari's strict instructions of "just ONE, Taylor" even though she was still in Sunday School #gooddaughterpoints) and hoisted my haul to rest in front of the librarian (another idol of mine). 

She smiled at me from behind her thick glasses and placed the books in my bag, before asking, "and what name are these under today?" I innocently piped up, "Taylor Arceneaux!"

I've seen her expression many times over the years. On new employers, new teachers, substitutes, dentists, doctors, potential friends, etc. It's the panicked look of someone desperately trying to remember every spelling rule that they ever learned in school, but of course none of them apply here. They hate to ask, but finally succumb to their lack of French knowledge and simply inquire, "could you  spell that please?"

I'd be happy to. 

With a name like mine it's hard to blend in. When it's announced heads swivel, looking for it's owner (obviously hoping to meet some exotic French woman. Nope, sorry to disappoint), but I plan to be unforgettable for my actions, not for my name. So, the name is Taylor Arceneaux, but you can call me A Very Lucky Girl.


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