My name is…

…Sydney Adams.

According to the indisputable truth giver called Google, the name ‘Sydney’ is of Old English origin, meaning ‘wide island.’ I don’t particularly have an affinity for or against land floating aimlessly in bodies of water, but a wide island? I would have preferred chubby peninsula. At least, there’s no pretense. Lucky for me, most people don’t know much about Old English, or care much about the meaning of names in general.

Still, I’ve gotten several compliments because of my name. Non-English speakers have often praised my feeble attempts of communication with enthusiastic shouts of “Scream! Scream Sidney!”

Oh Sidney Prescott, how you delight people everywhere.

So, aside from the birthday cards spelt with an ‘i’ instead of a ‘y,’ the mail sent to Mr. Sydney Adams, the need to ally my title with Australia so that potential friends don’t call me Cindy, and my irrational fear of being chased by a killer, being Sydney is not a bad fate.

In fact, I rather like it.

For those of us who look at the urban dictionary, being Sydney is the equivalent of having it made.

Here are some definitions:

1. Sydney
Perfection. A beautiful young woman desired by many, but she desires only one other. Fearing love yet wanting it. Amazing. Stupendous. Incredible. What else is there to say?
(Uses: Person #1: “She seems like a Sydney!”)
(Person #2: “Hey, I’m gonna go ask her!”)
(Person #2 comes over and asks then walks back)
(Person #2: “Yup, man! That’s definitely a Sydney!”)
4. Sydney
The highest degree of absolute bad ass and/or righteousness.
Uses:(Cheese enchiladas are Sydney sauce.)
Now that is fun. Following these definitions are a plethora of compliments about the rich personality a “Sydney” has. It’s a great confidence booster…until about page 10.
112. Sydney
A bitchy whore who flirts with both guys AND girls even when she has a boyfriend. Scratches her armpits. claims she’s nice and that shes your “friend” then she goes and talks smack about you. needs mental help and always wants her way and to be the center of attention. thinks shes hot when really she’s a bag of flubber.
She is hella ugly, especially when her hair’s out. it’s very bushy and when she turns around it goes in your mouth if you stand too close. will end up becoming a prostitute and will have a baby before she reaches University(if she can get in that is)
(Uses: Person: She’s such a Sydney.)
(Person 2: Hell yeah she’s a bitch.)
I would be offended if it wasn’t hilarious. Could not stop laughing. If it’s any consolation to the Sydney’s out there, there were 192 dislikes at the bottom.

So, what does it mean to be Sydney? Specifically, Sydney Adams?

Well, based on everything I’ve learned over an extensive research period of 1 hour, I suppose it means that “Sydney” cannot be defined by anyone but me.

Self-discovery appears to be up there with Enlightenment and summoning your Inner Eye. Understanding who you are seems destined,  accompanied by some kind of spirit animal guide, a billowing poncho and a walking stick.Or perhaps it used to be.

Mine occurs when I stand off of 35th and 10th in Manhattan and stare at the people pass by. It’s happening now as I sit on my Twin XL bed, across from my college roommate Sarah Park, as we bend in prayer-like thanks to our laptops. Sometimes it happens when I stare at my parents while they talk, the glow of the television flickering on their faces. (Until the unnerving stare makes the hairs on the back of their necks raise.)

Looks up.  “What?

“Nothing.” Avert.

Oh, and definitely when my sister and I have dance parties.

Sydney is a writer. Sydney’s a black girl. Those things don’t change.  I know I’m learning, changing everyday. There’s always a second chance, a metamorphosis, an oncoming mid-life crisis. It’s a good feeling. It means it doesn’t matter what I’m defined as.

My name might mean something else tomorrow.


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