I’m Katie. Yeah, I know about three inches above where you are reading this I am allegedly “Kate” but to be honest this name/identity situation continues to be a major work in progress on more than just a metaphysical level.
My parents called me Katie when I was a kid and despite directly associating those two syllables with my entire existence, for some foolish reason I decided it was no longer suitable for my adult form. Some time ago, I started going by Kate because I thought it was a sharper, sexier version of myself. Very quickly, the truth dawned that “Kate” isn’t any of those things, but it was too late as the domain name had already been purchased for an irrefundable $19.95. Related: if you’re named Kate Fustich and looking to score this internet property, please contact me for an exciting business opportunity.
Sometimes I go by Katherine–what it says on my birth certificate–if I’m trying to gain employment at a large and evil corporation or I want some old academic man with ironic facial hair to take me seriously. Maybe someday I’ll transition to being a full-time Katherine when I have white hair and have expatriated to dedicate my twilight years to hosting a literary salon in Montmartre.
