The name's Carmi, with an i

With a name like Carmi, I was destined to spend a lifetime explaining the origins of my moniker. I was also destined to have more nicknames than most people I know.

For the record, Carmi is a contraction of two Hebrew words:
Kerem, which means vineyard; and
Sheli, which means mine.

Hebrew lets you scrunch words like this together to form Carmi...which means "my vineyard" (such a surprise!) In its original language, the second syllable is stressed. In the anglo-centric world in which I live, the first syllable kinda rules. Carmi, like Army.

This is my full name, as it appears on my birth certificate. It is not short for anything.

There are very few terms of endearment for a name that already seems like a nickname. The single-syllable "Carm" is likely the most common. I can count on one hand the number of people who call me Carm. They're all direct relatives, and only ones I really, really like. One's my wife.

In my past lives, individuals have popped up here and there who feel an instant familiarity with me. Why they feel this way I do not know. I'm a pretty friendly person who always seems to find the good in people - even if they really don't deserve it and others would have written them off long ago. But some folks I just can't get to like. I'll tolerate 'em for the purpose of getting the job done. But beyond idle chitchat, I have little desire to spend any kind of quality time with them.

Right about now, you're all likely thinking that I'm a terrible person. Please don't think ill of me. The only folks who fall into what I like to call the Go Away category are the really self-centred, odious ones who we all wish would simply walk off the edge of the planet. In other words, you have to really suck as a human being to fall into my wish-you-weren't-in-front-of-me gang. Trust me, you would hate them too.

There's also a more pragmatic reason: the less time I spend yakking with airheads leaves me more time to hang with the people who matter; namely a woman who staggeringly wishes to spend her life with me, and the three little people we've created and are trying to raise into well-adjusted, bigger people.

So, to bring my circuitious ramblings back to where they began, I noticed a number of Go Away people over the years have assumed they can call me Carm. I have always wanted to open my mouth and say they simply don't deserve to call me by that name. In my head, while they're blathering away, the voices scream at me that I should put these losers in their place.

But I don't. I say nothing. I continue to smile and nod my head while they relate another story about their son's hockey stats or the sad and never-ending story of how they negotiated the lease on their SUV. They think I'm their buddy. I waste my time letting them continue the charade. It keeps everyone happy, so there's no sense rocking the boat.

For now. Now that I write for a living, I won't stop myself from skewering their personalities in some future work. Some people - no matter what they call me - are just too caricature-like to be ignored.

As long as they remember to include the i at the end of my name, that is.