Yes, my name is a noun.  And yes, my mom’s name is an adjective. That does not mean that every time you see my name on a sign or hear it in a song, you should feel free to chat me up about it.  I don’t look like a flower, my mom isn’t the most joyful person in the world, and yes, my dad’s name is Steve.  Why couldn’t I have been named a name?  Like Eleanor or Louise or Kayla or Caroline.  I just want a name that can’t be worn out by children’s books or greenhouses.  Although I wish I wasn’t a noun, I’m happy that my noun has no connotations or double meanings.  Poor Molly, poor Cliff, poor Rebel and Hunter and Mills and poor, poor Mary Jane.  I guess maybe I should look favorably upon my noun name.  I am featured in songs of Jimi Hendrix, The Who, Stevie Nicks, Sinatra, Bob Dylan, and many more among greats. The problem isn’t that my name is a lyric or a flower. The problem is just that anytime my peers hear those lyrics or see those flowers, everyone stares at me and expects something.  Like, what do y’all want me to say?
“Hey everyone, my name is Lily, and YES! You did just hear my name in that song! I’m so glad you’re all staring at me and notice that I, like a flower, am alive.”