So we are trying to come up with a name for the company.

Mooktak likes Latin. I also like Latin. But does the public like Latin? Dead language Latin, not the vibrant culture Latin.

Naming is no joke. One of my stumbling blocks when writing fiction (and non-fiction with protecting the innocent) was naming. I dove deep in, etymology style, meaning style, making sure the name was precise with the character, theme, symbols, etc I wanted to convey. Days were lost searching for a name for a minor character. It was heavy-handed. Seams showed. And even when they didn’t, it was too much effort for little return.

Naming conventions are easy because there’s a standard with degrees of quality. There’s the fun camelCase. There’s order, sorting, referencing, efficiency, productivity implied. You and anyone who touches that code benefit from choosing an appropriate name.

Oh. And when my daughter was born. You have the length of your hospital stay to name your child, else you’re buried in red tape and trips to the government. Imagine 9 months, give or take, of searching for a name that would be fitting for your progeny, your future, your unconditional love, but also fully knowing that it would all change once you saw the baby, or once the baby saw you and winked at her favorite name as you said them aloud.

Sure, we had a short list. We also had a long list. And a medium list. And a list we would show people who kept hounding us, so they could criticize and pick their favorites, a list that did not have names we were seriously considering.

In the end, once our baby was born, we realized none of those names fit her, and we just riffed on her looks and personality. We blended words. We watched her wink. We named her, and renamed her, and still every day we rename her, and she renames herself.

Where was I going with this. Oh yeah. Naming is hard. It gives something an enhanced life, a residency in this world, an official greeting. But you can always change.