In a Name.

From Latin, significare, as sign, has come to be a central term for the semiological question, What is in a name? On a purely denotative level, one's name often serves as a representation of parents' hopes for their child's identity. While being knit in the womb, my parents already opted to name me Rebecca, after the Rebekah in the Bible, in hopes that I too will be a woman of generosity, graciousness, and kindness. As De Saussure says we are "always already hailed" in signification by the doctor's cry, "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!", whereby pegging us into very specific gender roles for the rest of our lives, we are also hailed by our names at the very moment of birth.

But furthermore, this act of signification, giving someone or something a name, goes hand in hand with significance. It is no coincidence that we attempt to constantly define that which is beautiful. And we do this by giving it a name, a suitable name which is representative of its significance. In fact, everything we sense around us -- every object, every organism -- is given a name to signify it as a concept, beautiful or not. Everything is given a name to signify that it exists. Although, arguably, is something non-existent simply because it doesn't have a name? Perhaps not. But can something be significant if not given a name?

That which is not given a name seems to me like a vampire. It is ghostly translucent; it is undead. It is a memory once meaningful, or perhaps meaningless. It almost exists, but mostly only haunts everything else that is given a name. It is, and can only ever be, Anonymous.