In high school, there was a girl one year older who was quite a good writer, and her name was Maria. It was the old British spelling of "Maria" -- which is pronounced like "Mariah." She once wrote a great poem about how the days of the Romantics were over, and she'd never be a dreamy, swooning delicate English rose; she'd just be a name forever mispronounced.
My deaf neighbor was left a note by our property manager last week. My neighbor has lived here for over two years, and the manager lives here on-site, one of the 15 apartments. The note was left for "Jessica" but my neighbor's name is "Jeska".
I wish I could find a copy of that poem, and maybe it would make her smile!