Lately, among twenty-something relatives and friends the main topic of conversation is baby names.
These people, whom I love to pieces, have named all of their unborn children, and share the names with warning in their eyes, suspect that the listener may be secretly plotting their first pregnancy and listening to the possibilities only to file them away for future use. The twenty something who finds themselves in this conversation, and is nowhere near welcoming babies into her life (me) is listening intently, but behind the smile and good intentions, can't help but think--
IT'S A FUCKING NAME.
Does it really matter if your bosses daughter's step cousin beat you to birthing a daughter and calling her Lola. Seriously.
Now, I've heard the line, "what's in a name," but now I actually understand that picking a name, is a very painful process. Absolute fear of picking the wrong name, or worse a plain bad one, has kept me from writing a blog for months.
Finally I threw caution to the wind, and googled 'name my blog."
It suggested a massive brainstorm, to rhyme your name with other words, to smash different words together, to think of where you spend all your time.
Since nothing rhymes with Kristan, the rest is history.
The title has something to do with being in a backseat, which for those who know me makes perfect sense, since it is the place where I spend a lot of my time.
The actual definition of 'backseat,' calls it a position of inferiority. Please. When does the driver of a car get to puppy watch, or frantically change radio channels? does the driver get to eat cupcakes while on the road? No, but I do. Because I am always in the backseat...passenger side, if you want to get technical.
Check back for general pop culture ramblings, interesting tidbits of news, and sometimes self indulgent chatter.
Cupcakes! :)
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