Incessant ranting & rambling

I've been given a name that doesn't easily roll off tongues. Liezel, pronounced "Le-zelle" has been often butchered to "Lysol, Lisel (my german counterpart) & Losale"

Every morning, after my morning run, I pick up the Washington Post, and/or hot chocolate or hot tea. The person behind the counter is accustomed to my frequent morning visits. (Not so much on the personal level where we can exchange family issues & intimate details, but more on small talk on business being steady)

Given my name isn't a common one, I'd much rather be Liezel than "Stacy, Michelle, or Beth" --I'm not like everyone else. With my usual round of the Post and hot drink purchases, one can assume I have established a "connection" with the person at the counter. Not necessarily. I'm often called, "Marisa" by said person. Depriving me of my very own name, she effectively erases my existence as Liezel. This only exacerbates my own feeling of disconnection with people.

This reminds me of "7th grade required school reading" of Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys. Antoinette, in her own mirrorless prison in the attic, desires to become a visible, accepted member of the community. In the attic, she constantly looks for own reflection, an adopted need to be visible in a world that neither accepts or invites her. Looking for reassurance of her own existence in a period of time where she was not accepted in society. Mirrors play an important motif in the novel, it underscores the important questions of identity that pull at her and the rest of the characters. She constantly asks herself, while locked away in the attic, "What am I doing in this place? And who am I?"

Great question.

I'm not imprisoned in an attic, but I am in constant battle with my inner demons of acceptance with myself, especially in today's society. The same could be said with my current relationships.

Just who am I? Apparently, I'm Marisa.