Well, I think I want the world to know.
Maybe. Probably, I do. Sometimes.
I’m pretty sure.
This isn’t about my sexuality or anything. If you’re thinking that this is going to be a Ricky Martin moment, you’ll probably be disappointed. Of course, that was a little disappointing, too, I think. I’m pretty sure Ricky lacked a full-length mirror in his closet. Otherwise, he might have seen what we all saw years ago.
It’s about my name.
You all know me as Linda, just Linda. Or JustLinda. (I used to be JustLinda, but now I’m just Linda.)
You might be surprised to know that I have last names. Three, actually. I have the one I grew up with. Let’s say that was Smith. Linda Smith.
Then I got married that first time and I was Linda Jones.
After my divorce, and as I was establishing my career, I kept it as Linda Jones because I had a couple of little Jones kids and plus Jones was so easy to spell and pronounce. (Not like that old German name Smith – people were always messing that up. Z? They would ask. Smith with a Z? Yes, thankyouverymuch, there is a Z in my last name. Deal with it.)
Eventually, I remarried and the new guy wasn’t hip on me choosing to stick with the last name of the estranged Mister Jones. Plus he and I knew we wanted more children and I figured my name would have to match Set 1 or Set 2 but couldn’t match both. Well, it could have if I had been able to convince my new husband to take my ex-husband’s last name and then give that to our children, but he wasn’t too keen on that idea. So, long story short, I became Linda Miller.
Linda Smith Jones Miller.
With a Z.
I know, I know. It’s enough to make a person dizzy. It’s very confusing, right? So when I started my blog, I was just Linda. Or rather JustLinda. Whatever.
And that was my evil plan for keeping my anonymity on the big, bad Internet. “Muhahaha – no one will find me! I am just one Linda in a SEA of Lindas. I am safe and anonymous, and I can tell lie after lie after lie.”
Only that’s not how it worked out. Somehow the name Linda Miller, through the voodoo of Google algorithms, got associated with my little corner of the Internet here, so anytime someone would search for Linda Miller, the first result in the search return would be my blog.
Sneaky, huh? Hiding in plain sight like that?
It was okay, though. I really wasn’t planning on telling any sort of lies so the fact that people could find me was okay. Whatever.
Add to that the advent of Facebook where I am clearly Linda Smith Jones Miller, right out there in front of God and country. (And country, and country, and country, ad nauseam.)
Then there is LinkedIn where I am Linda Jones Miller. Oh, and on Twitter, I’m @LindaInDisguise.
It’s starting to get hard for me to keep up with who I am supposed to be. I have to take a Sharpie and write it on my arm for those times when I get confused.
So the people on Facebook don’t know about my blog or my Twitter account. Well, I didn’t tell them. Some of them know how to use Google and were born with a modicum of curiosity so they found me that way. But I don’t post my blog links on my Facebook account. Or on my LinkedIn account. And I don’t post my Facebook account on my LinkedIn account, but I think I have my LinkedIn account posted on my Facebook account. I also don’t post my Twitter account on Facebook or LinkedIn.
You can see how I might be running out of room on my arms, plus my Sharpie is almost out of ink and I’m feeling addled and confused.
I’m pretty sure I could spend all my time social-networking just amongst myself. While that would perhaps be entertaining (for ME), it will never get me rich and famous. (Unless, of course, someone rewards that choice monetarily because it keeps me out of the way of everyone else who would prefer I not tinker in their social networks.) (And if that is the case, my PayPal account is linda@justlinda.net – small, unmarked bills only please.)
People, I’m just tired. I’m tired of trying to keep it all segregated. And frankly, it is all just barely held in place by some duct tape that’s losing its stickiness and expired Elmer’s glue. It’s all held apart with only the most tenuous of walls separating one section from another. It’s probably this close to collapsing into one big ol’ Web two-point-oh pile, anyway.
Whatever. Bring it on.
I look around and I see Heather Armstrong, Alice Bradley, Eden Kennedy, Allie Brosh, and other bloggers I follow all using their last names and nothing bad has happened to them. No Internet mutants have eaten their children. (Well, possibly that did happen with Allie. She claims not to have any children, but how do we know she didn’t used to have one that got eaten by an Internet mutant or maybe a zombie? Perhaps said mutant zombie is the inspiration for some of her drawings. Ever-think-of-THAT???)
Anyway.
What would happen if I told you all my last name? What would happen if I posted my blog link on my Facebook account? My Twitter name on my LinkedIn account? My LinkedIn name on my … oh, never mind. You know what I mean.
Would the world keep turning on its axis?
Would they stop playing those incessant Full House re-runs on Nickelodeon? (Please? Because then I’d do it in a heartbeat!)
Would my family disown me?
Would my employer fire me?
What? What would happen? Why am I unsure and hesitating? I’m practically OUT anyway – only hiding behind the thinnest of flimsy veils.
That’s it. I’ve decided. I’m pretty sure. I think I can. It’s time to boldly step forward. Here I go. Right now – I’m going to do it.
Hi, I’m Linda Smith Jones Miller. You know me as JustLinda.
Nice to meet you.
Whew, that feels good. (Not as good as topless sun-bathing, mind you. It’s a different kind of liberating… a fake deceitful kind of liberating, I’d say.)
DAMMIT! Why can’t I do this?
OK. This time I mean it.
Linda Banana-Hammock Pederschmidt.
Oh, never mind.
married life is of course a very happy life, all you need to do is find some happiness deep inside yourself -`.
i just thought that married life is the happiest point of my life.-:.
I have gone around and around with myself about the whole should I put my name out there and should I not. I have had a stalker, some crazy chick from the midwest. She actually called me at my house. It was pretty creepy. Do I worry about my inlaws reading my blog? Sometimes, but oh well. It is what it is. If I had a common name then I wouldn’t be bugged I don’t think, but my name isn’t an everyday name. Know what I mean?
I think you gotta do what feels good for you. Your blog cracks me up.
I post new blog links on BlogHer and then on Twitter. Most of that audience is fellow bloggers. I don’t advertise my blog on Facebook because those are IRL friends. Some of them follow my blog religiously, some of them take the occasional voyeuristic peek every now and then. If I feel the need to censor, it is not because I am easy to find, it is because I know that once it’s on the internet, it may possibly always be there. My full name, my husband’s name and my child’s name are all out in the open. But, the great thing about all of that is that I’m not a big blogger. My readership is very small and I don’t feel that I’m compromising anything by being open. It’s a personal choice we all make and in the end, we all know what’s best for us. Great post. It’s great to have a good laugh in the morning!
Love it! Personally, I don’t worry too much about keeping my blog anonymous. I am a blabbermouth & tell everything to everyone. I do write about my family & my husbands but anything I say there I have said to their faces or would if they asked. My family doesn’t read my blog except for my sister. My son is only 5 so he is clueless. I am more careful with Facebook but not with Twitter. Only 1 real life friend follows me on Twitter. I enjoy reading your comments on BlogHer btw. You write very well.
Long story short: if I’d known better, I’d have been more careful to keep my blog anonymous, while pursuing my IRL friendships at places like Facebook (which, to be fair, didn’t exist when I started my blog).
A word to the wise based on my experience: be careful about linking your blog with your Facebook/real-life friends. Knowing that someone in my IRL circle/small town COULD find me with a little effort was somehow different from knowing that they HAD found me and WERE reading me. It killed the muse a bit, is what I’m saying, because now I know that whatever I write about my kids or myself or my inlaws (see, even here, I just had to think, can I post about not being able to write about my inlaws? Will my inlaws see that?), I have to filter because I have a reputation as a nice person and also I don’t want my kids to hate me or be embarrassed. Because when you’re fourteen and the people you’re running into in the post office, let alone your FRIENDS, know about your anxiety issues or the silly things you said about pooping when you were five, it gives you a good reason to hate your mom until the therapy starts to work in your thirties.