What's in a name?

This is the obligatory first sentence to let the non astute reader know that I have created a blog. Honestly, your stumbling upon it must have been some indication... But I must go along with formalities and such in order to get onto what I would really like to talk about, and that is names.

Shakespeare is often quoted as having written "What's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet". The Simpsons gives the retort "Not if you called it stench blossom." Names then become very important not only in coming to a consensus as to what it is you're talking about, but also how you view things. Take for example the following list of synonyms: Rad, awesome, cool, neat-o, nifty, and so on all give off slightly different vibes even though they all in a sense communicate that you approve of a certain noun or verb, but the selection of any one of those over the others tells a great deal about who you are. It is your style, your essence, your very tribute to the world. Names, word choices, punctuation --- they all say so much, often literally, about who you have made yourself to be.

& now to explain this blog's name, "The Hour of Repose." In one sense, I wish to make this medium of expression a place to rest from the world I live in. It also happens to be part of a passage from one of my favourite novels, Jane Eyre:

"It is always the way of events in this life, no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired."

I have often found myself quoting this at different times of my life. It just describes me so well... my life keeps throwing events at me at the exact moment when I think I have a handle on everything... My life is filled with movement from one place to the next, never really feeling as though I am 'at home' until I am called to leave.

In the coming weeks, after I finish a health care & economics paper on the workings of the Japanese health care system and the likelihood that the US could implement or copy some of their styles, I shall be going home, to my Claremont home. Yet, I do not wish to leave this place. I was just getting to a point where my shyness had suceded enough to let me talk with people around me and socialize, and then the voice called me to rise and move home... There are so many people that I really wished to have known better, but I will now probably never know more than as a familiar acquaintance. I don't know why I have to go home now; why the events that are to come into my life in the next few months have decided to choose now as the 'right time', but when I hear a theoretical voice telling me to go and do, I do it even though I have no idea why. There are other thoughts, meaning I have other thoughts on this matter, but I must be off to Idaho now. So many journeys...