Names are a funny thing. Sometimes they seem to fit their person perfectly. Sometimes not. Some are more memorable than others; some, better off forgotten.

Let’s start with the one-name wonders. Those who go by just a single name because they’ve reached such iconic status that a surname would seem superfluous — Beyonce, Oprah, Kobe, Cher, Elvis, Madonna. Then there are those hybrid names, a combination of he and she worn by the ultimate pop-culture couples — Brangelina, Billary, Kimye, and, until last year, TomKat. Nothing like reducing two people to one cloyingly cute identity.

I’ve often thought it unfair that we all have to rely on our parents to choose our name — the label that follows us all of our life. Whether it’s naming kids after boroughs (Brooklyn, Bronx), inanimate objects (Apple, Blanket), or the ethereal (Moonbeam, Rainbow), let’s hope that those children really love those tags. Somehow, I think that anyone named Rainbow Schwartz or Apple McIintosh, for example, might have a tough time of it.

For all the people who give their children such unusual names, there are those who give their pets people names. Some of these, I think, work — like a cat named Cleo, a dog named Sam, even a parrot named Lola. But some people names just don’t make the cut for me — a dog named Gary, a cat named Susan, a hamster named Stephanie. Major disconnect.

In the end, though, we can all either live up to the potential of our names (whatever we might choose that to be) or make a change.

Instead of Brooklyn, I’d take Manhattan.

© 2013 Claudia Grossman