Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Cami.
That’s actually a lie.
My name is not Cami.
No, Cami’s blog hasn’t been taken over by some crazed lunatic blog taker over-er…
It’s still me… Cami Kaos.
I’m Cami, there’s no doubt about that… Since the day I was born, maybe even before that, I’ve been called Cami. If you had a peek at my birth certificate though you would see that my name is like no other. At least I’ve never met anyone with my same first name.
I set out a great campaign to get friends and family members to call me by my proper name for about a year. Then I added a vowel. ADDED ONE. I tried to get people to call me that. It didn’t take (which I am glad of because I really like being Cami. I think it strangely suits me).
Very few people ever use my first name. It is not ugly or necessarily unwieldy. Actually it’s a lovely name, I think.
But still the number of people who use it?
So few in fact that my own mother and father do not rank in the number of people who use my full first name.
MY MOM AND DAD… you know, the folks who named me.
The tale goes that they chose my name because they wanted to be able to call me Cami but they didn’t think it was a proper full name so they sought out a name that “Cami” could be short for.
I would imagine they exhausted all the traditional possibilities… Not that I can think of more than a few… Can you?
I’m sure there are more?
What’s in a name? Would I be the same person if they’d named me Camdyn instead? Even if they still called me Cami?
What is all the existential name bull crap?
Nothing… I’m just thinking about a secret involving my name…
okay, it doesn’t really have anything to do with my name… that is unless I was really egocentric…
which I am.