As of tomorrow, I get my do-over. Officially.

My name change do-over.

The name I have always wanted but persuaded myself not to take two years ago when I changed it.

I have blogged previously about my new name, and how changing my name from the one given to me at birth was my taking a stand, raging against a paternal heritage of hatred and ignorance.

Now, the reason I opted not to take the name I truly wanted was simple: being that my married name is “Lopez,” and that in the Spanish language, “j” is pronounced with the “h” sound, the name “Aja” (pronounced *Asia*) would be misunderstood as “Aha!” It would be funny, but it would get old after awhile.

Despite all its significance to me, I conceded that “Aja” would remain a dream unfulfilled.

Nevertheless, my heart was never fully content with the name “Alexa.” It felt good, but it didn’t feel right. So, after two years as “Alexa Lopez,” my name becomes — get this: Aja~lexa Lopez. I keep my Riál’s middle name as part of my name, and I anchor it to Aja — which has a plethora of significance behind it.

Once I stand before the judge tomorrow to declare that I am not changing my name to avoid prosecution or to run from the law, and the judge signs off, my name changes.

To Aja~lexa.

I’m not afraid of a do-over if it means I’ve learned a thing or two about myself.