Upon my birth, my brother wanted to name me “Pipsqueak,” and my dad was leaning towards “Rosalita.” Fortunately, my mom followed her instincts and ignored them both. She chose Karly, with a K, so both Spell-check and my dad say it’s wrong.
I’ve also begun thinking the name isn’t right. It’s a derivative of Carl, meaning “Strong One.” Anyone who has ever watched me try to open a soda bottle knows this is a misnomer. The name Karly doesn’t sound strong at all really. Sure it starts out strong with a hard “Kuh,” but it quickly gets swallowed back, and ends with a squeaking, “eek.” In this way, the name fits like a good sweater. I’m known for talking big, planning big, and then not following through. I get scared, fear my ambitions are too high and hide in a corner calling for someone to help dislodge the foot from my mouth.
The biggest problem I have with my name is the K. It always seems to throw teachers, receptionists, and anyone else required to write my name. When I tell them they’ve made a mistake, they suddenly become unsure of themselves. They were going along so confidently, ready to tackle my last name phonetically, and now this error has been pointed out? Suddenly self-conscious, they falter. If I am so bold as to upset their harmony with a K, what else is up my sleeve? Perhaps I’ll surprise them with an “e-y,” a punk “i,” or several ostentatious silent letters. It strikes me now that this reaction reflects me as well. Any new information forces me to completely re-contemplate my universe. My life’s dogma is in a constant state of flux so I approach everything with an air of caution, waiting for my next mistake to be pointed out.
My mom says she chose the K version of Karly because it seemed creative, and I would then have the same initials as my brother Kelly. The idea of stretching one’s imagination while simultaneously wanting nothing more than to blend in with surroundings is a struggle I deal with every day. My brother and I have grown and found our own paths and I feel myself favoring individuality, not needing to blend into the crowd, but choosing to blend in with my family.