My name. Analyzed.

Felicia Jones – the happy, lucky, fortunate son of John.

Last time I checked, I was the unlucky daughter of Ted.

I always thought my name was bland and simply a mouthful; three-syllable first names are too much, at least as far as I can tell. I would have enjoyed a shorter, more tolerable, perhaps unique name.
I remember specifically talking to my best friend, B, about this, how I would change my name to something more fun. She agreed, saying she wanted a name that started with a Z – I would’ve been happy with something simple like my middle name, which is Rachele. That same night at about four o’ clock in the morning, I got an IM from one of my favorite singers – who still has his facebook? – saying that I had a cool name, therefore I get a free chat. I told him I didn’t think it was all too great, though he protested multiple times and replied, “You don’t anymore, party people!”

…I think it’s pretty boring.

I was named after a song about a young girl’s death – I Hear Leesha by Christian singer/songwriter Michael W. Smith – simply because my dad thought it would be fitting. It tells a story about how death really isn’t too terrible of a thing, and that all is peaceful in mortal tragedy. That Leesha is dead, but the song she sings is comforting, that she’s perfect.