I sign my name "Kimani Nakamura Y." Why?
Y. = Yoshiko, the name of my diceased grandmother.
Y. = Why did she have to die? I was only three.
Y. = Yoshiko translates into "good girl" or "lucky girl"
Y. = The Japanese in me that isn't passed down from my father, but the spirit. I hope my grandma is proud of me.
Y. = YKIMANI, my personalized licence plate that my mom gave to me after I bought my old Jeep with the bond money my grandma left after she died. The last bond dated a few days before my third birthday.
Y. = The question I ask myself whenever I'm alone. No family, no grandmother, hardly any money.
Y. = Me. Curious. Nervous. Sad. But always asking the question, "Why?"
Y. = When I am publishing books, will the Y. be there?
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About Me
- Indigo Ink
- I attend Aquinas College, which is a little Catholic private school within the city of Grand Rapids, MI. Currently, I aspire to be an English teacher and a translator of various languages, including but not limited to Japanese, Chinese, and Arabic.
P.S. Note
The power and extension of things is amazing. Have you ever held a penny, for example, and thought of all the places a single penny has been? Especially now, when American money has hit its peak and being used worldwide. Heck, you could be carrying a penny that went to France! Or Jamaica! Or Indonesia!
For some people, the only foreign experience they have is through things. Transported, traded, commodities that no one gives a second glance. However, knowing that many unrelated things found around the world could link people from a single restaurant in a single town in a single country is cool.
The reality is: Americans are broken. These things pose less significance or usefulness than the truth, and keep people individual, unique, and separate.
Where do your things come from? Where are they going? And, also, you?
For some people, the only foreign experience they have is through things. Transported, traded, commodities that no one gives a second glance. However, knowing that many unrelated things found around the world could link people from a single restaurant in a single town in a single country is cool.
The reality is: Americans are broken. These things pose less significance or usefulness than the truth, and keep people individual, unique, and separate.
Where do your things come from? Where are they going? And, also, you?
I like my middle name, and I wish I could have known my grandmother better. What will be my author signature is still a mystery to me--someone who doesn't hold a lot of value in my first or last name. But, my middle name is special. I'll tell you what my signature is as soon as I figure it out!
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