Changing.

Change is good. Change is really good. But we can’t wait around for it, -I- can’t wait around for it. It won’t come to me. I need to press the button and take the initiative.

Correction – I will press the button. I am taking the initiative.

I had, in simple terms, a really good weekend. The world’s really beautiful, you know? Not always, but we can make it a nicer place, for ourselves, for other people.

And so. Yes. It’s been on my mind for quite some time and I am, yes I am, changing my name. Probably legally, though not for a while. But I wish to be Jordan no more, it’s really not me, doesn’t suit me, doesn’t sound right or natural to me. Jordy, I can do that for a while. I connect that name differently, and only hear it from people I love. But as of now, and hopefully as soon as people can adjust, I’m Danny. Dannison, as it were, and now already to those I know and love, Danny. Not for anyone but me. My name, who I am. Me.


I went to a party, yes, me. I climbed out of my hole that is a house and waded through my anxiety to be with my Beamish lovely Anna and I went and had a great time, surprisingly. Strangers and people I didn’t know, and as soon as the anxiety faded I enjoyed myself immensely. And I introduced myself once, as Jordan – it just tasted bitter. Felt, like plastic (not plant). I discarded it. Each new person, next fresh face, out it slipped – Danny. Danny. Effortless, slight, but not insignificant. Smooth and good and exactly where and what it’s supposed to be. I spelled out my name – /my/ name for someone, questioned of Danny with an i or y. Dannison, I said, Danny for short. She said it was pretty and she’d never heard it before and I smiled, and Anna smiled, and she said, “It’s her name.”

Small steps. One leave uncurls at a time. Sometimes you uncurl. And sometimes you bloom.