Titles are so funny, aren't they?  I'm terrible at them, and of course, math, too.  I always go for the cliche, the mundane, and ultimately, uninteresting.  My titles are often long-winded and don't convey that sense of urgent interest that invites a person to open a book and read it.  Entitled, now that's a different story. 

When I submit my work, I also say my work is currently "entitled" whatever the title may be--probably something less-than-fantastic.  But entitled isn't always about the name of a piece of writing, is it?

Entitled can mean a sense of deserving, a feeling of worth or worthiness, as in : "I am entitled to the bulk of my 401k upon retirement," but it can also be used in negative ways like, "He has a sense of entitlement and that's why he takes what other people do for granted."

Are my stories, my books, not only entitled, but ENTITLED?  Surely not, as the other author who shares my birthdate now has a networth of multiple billions, while I, on the other end of the karma-wheel, am looking toward the possibility of a much less wealthy future for my work.  Hopefully, we're not talking Herman Melville future--like the belated appreciation he received for what is considered the "Great American Novel" seventy years AFTER his death....

I'm thinking about the meanings behind titles, of not just books, but people, too--and that sense of entitlement that comes with just a name.  We take for granted the importance of names, of titles, and the entitled--whether books or people.  My name means noose or marriage--which some may claim is equivalent (though they are sadly mistaken--or worse, probably married to the wrong person).  When I first meet my students, I attempt to tell as many as possible the meanings behind their names.  Michael:  Angel of God; Gabriel: Messenger of God; David: Beloved; Gary: Warrior; Sophie: Wisdom; Robert: Greatness.  All titles, all implications of being entitled to those same traits.  My parents almost named me Raven; I'm glad fate took another turn. 

If we're not happy with our names, we seek to add or subtract from them, becoming doctors, counselors, teachers, salespeople, lawyers, business owners, financial folks.  We marry or divorce, shifting perspectives on our titles and what we are entitled to.  Being a Mrs. can mean you're entitled to protection, love and support from your husband.  Being a Dr. usually means you're entitled to intelligence, respect, and an ability to earn a living.  But what does it really mean?  Not to our everyday lives, but to ourselves, the self that lies deep within our mind, where Vedic gurus claim true reality exists.

And in fact, the truth does lie within the folds of our minds, our souls, our hearts--we can claim or reclaim any title but it does not negate who we truly are.  Same thing with books.  The right title may convey what is truly inside but often, the title only indicates what an editor, agent or publisher thinks will sell--and isn't it similar with us, too? 

Sometimes, I fear our titles (and what is therefore perceived to be what we are entitled) are more misleading than not.
 

Good night you Kings and Queens of New England, you Princesses and Princes of Pop Culture!  Until next time....