Plockenshpiel

I thought about using some crazy pen name for the title of my blog. C.S. Lyssa was the first one that came to mind, but that name has too much expectation and too much personal shame attached to it.

I got the nickname on a class trip to New York City so that we could have the pleasure of getting acquainted with Ellis Island. We traveled down to Poughkeepsie in a caravan so we could catch the train into the city. The day before, all of the other people in my car had discussed baking something for the road. I had decided on chocolate chip cookies and my friend Meghan was going to bake a cake. We left at 5:00 in the morning so while we nibbled on some of the cookies, none of us were really in the mood for cake yet. At the end of the day, after we had just finished the second train ride, we all piled back into the van. It was one of those half van/half R.V. things with the T.V. and V.C.R. in a cupboard over the driver's seat. We were going to watch Mummy Returns but I had drawn the short straw and ended up in the front seat again, which meant I could hear it but not see it.

"I'll just sit on the floor." I told the driver who was cool and agreed. I moved to the back and plopped down.

"Watch out!" Someone had started to say after it was too late. I had sat right in the middle of Meghan's cake. Fortunately, she had covered it in cellaphance so I didn't get the full blow of frosting on my butt, but when I stood up, the cake was smashed.

I spent the rest of the ride in the front seat, wallowing in my shame, while I listened to the Mummy Returns. My fellow passengers were people who would not let my little mishap go easily. Tim, Meghan's boyfriend, laughed about it for a good thirty minutes. And the rest of my friends in the car managed to think up a nickname that would stick with me through the end of my high school career. Cake Sitter Lyssa which got shortened to C.S. Lyssa.

So, like I said that one is out. In college, my friends and roommates (not that there's a distinction between them) started playing around with my last name. The one that stuck, because honestly it's the most fun, is Plockenshpiel. Now before everyone starts getting jealous that I get such a cool nickname, just remember that for most of my life, when a teacher would say my last name, they would be making the sound that mud makes when it hits a hard surface. "P-LOCK!" To top that off, my gym teacher insisted on calling me "Plocky" (which rang too close to both "Plucky" and "Pocky"). I've born the ills of the name long enough that I think it's about time something cool sprang from it.

Anyway, I thought about calling the blog, "Plocken's Shpeals." Because that would be a funny play on the nickname. (Shpeal coming from the urban dictionary, meaning "someone's repeated talk/jabber"-- which would work well with a blog wouldn't you say?)

However, All That Jazz is the name of my blog. All That Jazz is also the name of the folder I have on my computer where I put all my stuff that is not related to anything in particular. The same is true with this blog. Not everything is going to be profound, and not everything is going to be comical, and not everything is going to fit into some nice little category. But there it is. So, welcome, enjoy, feel free to add your own wisdom or snide remarks ... and all that jazz.