Names, Domains, and Identity

I didn’t expect a simple domain renewal email to turn into a long reflection about identity, names, and why certain things are hard to let go of.

It started with a renewal charge.

My domain sususu.su was auto-renewed, and the price had jumped—a lot. What used to cost me around TWD 700 per year suddenly became several times more expensive. Objectively speaking, it didn’t make much sense. The .su TLD is non-ICANN, politically sensitive, and widely considered risky. From a purely rational perspective, this should have been an easy decision: let it go, or at least stop caring.

But it wasn’t that simple.

A Domain That Matches My Name

My name is KUO SU-KO. “su” is the part that feels the most distinctive. It’s the syllable that doesn’t blend in, the bit that catches people’s attention, the fragment that feels like it actually belongs to me.

And then there’s the coincidence: .su exists as a top-level domain.

So sususu.su became more than a technical choice. It became a name-shaped artifact on the internet, something that felt oddly personal. It’s not about SEO, or market value, or whether .su is “a good idea.” It’s about the feeling of seeing my own name reflected in a domain.

Renewal Shock and the Reseller Trap

The renewal shock wasn’t just the number. It was the vibe.

A reseller-style registrar can be fine—until auto-renew kicks in with a pricing model that’s hard to justify. Looking at the WHOIS data also made something clear: the registrant details were effectively the reseller’s information, not mine. That’s normal in some ecosystems, especially with non-mainstream TLDs, but it’s still unsettling. It changes the psychology: it feels like you’re “renting” your own identity through someone else’s layer.

At that point, the question stops being “how do I reduce the price,” and becomes “how do I reduce the risk.”

Transfer Reality: It’s Not Just About Wanting to Leave

Transfer isn’t a simple “click and go” in every TLD.

For .su, the transfer path can be awkward. You often need a PIN/Auth code from the current registrar or reseller, and because the reseller sits between you and the registry-facing registrar, you can’t always take the shortest route. Paying a new registrar before you even have the authorization code is basically paying for a process that can’t start yet.

The key takeaway was simple: control the sequence.

Ask for the transfer PIN/Auth code (or a timeline for when it can be issued).
Confirm whether renewal or policy locks apply.
Only then initiate transfer and pay the transfer fee.

It sounds obvious, but when you’re frustrated, it’s easy to skip steps and create more problems.

The Surprise: Even the “Cheap” Option Got Expensive

One of the most confusing moments was seeing transfer offers that looked cheap—then realizing renewal pricing could still be high.

A registrar might offer a low transfer fee, but renewal pricing can live in a completely different bracket. That means you’re not really escaping the cost of the TLD itself—you’re escaping unpredictable markups and reseller behavior.

That’s the moment I stopped thinking in terms of “finding the cheapest deal,” and started thinking in terms of “finding the cleanest relationship.”

Domain Hacks: okuso.uk vs suko.uk

Around the same time, I realized I had created a personal naming system without really noticing.

I own okuso.uk and suko.uk.

okuso.uk is a domain hack. It’s my name reversed, and the .uk becomes part of the trick. It has structure. It has intent.
suko.uk is clean and short. It’s the kind of domain that immediately reads like a personal handle. Four letters. Minimal. Rare in the way only ccTLDs can be.

The funny part is: I don’t actually “have anything to do with the UK.” The TLD is not a geographic signal for me—it’s a typography tool. A short ending that makes the name possible.

And that’s where I landed: domains don’t have to be “true.” They have to be useful and meaningful.

The One I Can’t Let Go: Email as Identity

The most practical reason I keep sususu.su has nothing to do with websites.

It’s email.

su@sususu.su

That address is absurdly short. It’s playful. It’s memorable. It’s the kind of address you can say once and people remember it. And because most of my other domains are longer, this one feels like a rare trophy: a piece of personal identity compressed into a few characters.

At some point, I realized this:

sususu.su doesn’t need to work hard. It just needs to exist.

Don’t Overpay, Don’t Overcommit

I’m not trying to justify the renewal price emotionally anymore. The money is sunk. The better move is to make future decisions calm and controlled.

Turn off auto-renew if the registrar has a history of surprising pricing.
Use calendar reminders rather than trusting reseller-driven renewal systems.
Avoid multi-year commitments for high-policy-risk TLDs.
When it’s time, migrate to a registrar with clear renewal pricing (even if it’s not the absolute lowest).

This is less about “winning” a pricing argument and more about maintaining dignity in how you hold your own name online.

Closing Thought

People talk about domain names like they’re just assets. But sometimes they’re more like keepsakes.

okuso.uk is clever. suko.uk is clean. sususu.su is the first one—the one that feels like it has a pulse.

And maybe that’s enough.

Even if it’s not rational, it’s real.