On all my thank you notes, I sign off as “FeR”. All my Etsy orders and now, my website’s orders, too.
A long time ago when dial-up internet was first introduced to me, I wondered what sort of cool nickname I could give myself on IRC (anyone remembers that? 🤪 I am showing my age here). I can’t remember if I did come up with anything remotely cool – in the end, I opted for “fer” because that’s what mum calls me at home. Thereafter, it was also what I’m known as to my friends while I was in school.
I remember using ^ to note that “^FeR” was short for something else – this was my reasoning in my head. I remember a boy made an excuse of mistaking me as his friend to break the ice (he admitted that to me later). I remember using IRC to tell someone I liked him. I also remember that was how Roe became a close friend (I am now his daughter’s godmother but I have done nothing for her as I left the country in the same year she was born – I’m sorry, 大姐! 🙈)
So FeR is me. I am FeR.
A name that brings nostalgia, a name that brings comfort (it makes me feel like home) and a name that endears a person to me (because I know it’s only those who knows me from way back when or has some sort of home connection with me, that will call me by that name).
Living in New Zealand and Australia has given me another nickname to remember this chapter in life – Jen. Close friends I’ve made here calls me that and I like it, too. Just not Jenny, please.
I ain’t no Jenny. Never been, never will be.