"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

Yeah, Juliet, but would you want to stick your nose into a plant called stinky pea?

Names are important. Why would Wal-Mart line its counters with baby names books if they weren't?

Some say your name determines your personality. Maybe guys named John have put up a cot on the fourth floor of Wyly Tower because they are always there studying anyway. Maybe girls named Stacy have their own stool next to the bar at Rabb's because they're rarely seen outside of the bar's music rattled walls.

Your name can even determine your fame. Let's face it, Britney Spears would not be as desirable if her name was Jane Doe.

When you meet a person, the first question out of your mouth is "What's your name?" Your response will determine that person's impression of you.

I know all too well the awkwardness that follows when someone gets your name wrong. Say I bump into a friend of a friend.

FOF: Ê"Hey, you're on The Tech Talk with ::insert friend's name here::. It's Wendy, right?"

ME: "Well, actually it's Rindy. Like Cindy but with an R instead of a C."

FOF: "Right! Well, I've gotta go Wendy. Nice to meet you!"

It's OK. My name is so unusual that even I had a problem with it at first. My mom remembers when (as a toddler) I would flip out when some lady with rollers in her hair pushing a buggy in the grocery store would ooh and ahh over my cuteness and then call me "Wendy." As if I didn't know my own name. Of course, it could've been my speech impediment that caused all the confusion. (In my defense, Rs are hard to say.)

On the first day of kindergarten, my name was once again defamed when the principal listed me on the roll as "Randy." To add insult to injury he put me in a boys' physical education class! Besides replacing her Barbies with G.I. Joes, that's probably the worst thing you can do to a 5-year-old girl.

Since then I've been called everything from Brittany to Wendy and anything else that rhymes. I'll answer to pretty much anything that ends with a Y just to keep people from feeling bad about it.

As I write this I am staring at a pizza box that reads "KEENY HALL ROOM 138 É RIENDY." I forgive you, pizza man, because you delivered fresh, hot pizza in under 30 minutes just like you promised.

Even though I'm a little disgusted by the fact that a co-worker of four years still calls me "Randy" and that I'll never find my name on the customized pens and pencils at Wal-Mart, I wouldn't change my seemingly difficult name for anything. I do kind of actually enjoy when people tell me that my name is "cute" or "different."

Besides, it's famous, you know. I was named after the lead singer and saxophone player of an '80s group called Quarterflash. Don't feel embarrassed if you don't know that Rindy Ross's heartfelt crooning can make you cry. I've only heard one song by the group, but still I feel obligated to love it. What kind of namesake would I be if I didn't?

When "Harden My Heart" comes on I dutifully get the attention of the room and shout "Hey! That's me!" and tell whoever is listening about the origin of my quirky name.

Rindy Metcalf is a junior journalism major from Bossier City and serves as associate managing editor for The Tech Talk. E-mail comments to rdm018@latech.edu.