Being in a new place means that there are lots of new people.  While not true in every case, there's some point in introductions that looks like this:

Anyone: Hi, I'm someone you haven't met yet...or another introduction to the same effect...needless chatter or discussion of the immediate environment, weather, general small talk, etc...My name is_________. (the speaker divulges his or her name.)  What's yours?

Me: ...Uhm....uh...

Bum-bum-bum! While not nearly as dramatic as the musical underscore implies, introducing myself to new people confuses me.  It's not because I'm unfamiliar with the choreography; rather, I never know what to tell them my name is.

Since I was born, my family has called my "Trey."  I'm a third.  My dad and grandfather have the same name as I do.  Coincidentally, my mom's dad also has the same first name as my dad and grandfather.  So, I have been Trey.  Later in life, I learned that I had a different, "real" name.  I called it my "real" name because that was the name printed on my birth certificate.  It wasn't any more "real" than the other; it didn't identify me better than the other, it was just more formal, novel.  Starting kindergarten, I decided that I would be called "Michael," my legal name.  As kindergarten is an educational bedrock, that choice followed me throughout the rest of my academic career in the KISD.

I lived, at least my name did, in two worlds.  At home, church, everywhere that wasn't school related, people new me as "Trey."  For all purposes school, I went by "Michael."  There were occasional overlaps.  For example, a good friend and I attended the same school and church during elementary school.  His mom, usually confused, started to call me Trey-Michael to avoid any misnomers.  This problem found resolution when they moved away in fourth grade.

In eighth grade I got a new name: Homie T.  I'm not quite sure why I got that name; I certainly don't look anyone's homie.  While originally an insignificant appellation arising from some random middle-school silliness (gangsta'-thug business), it stuck.  There were others in that "Homie" group as well, but there names didn't stick so well as mine.  Alas, while everyone else had one name (or transient nicknames or other derivative pet names) I had three (more like two-and-a-half) viable identities.  Such was my nomial dichotomy: Home/Church/Family events = Trey; School = Michael, unless it's a drama occasion, then = Homie T.  These were the roles I played thoughout high school as well.  Amazingly, they all stayed fairly separate.

But that changed when I started higher education.  I dreaded introducing myself at school for I had no idea how.  Well, I knew how, but I didn't know which name to use.  I tended to rely on my previous three-parted dichotomy, which became two-parted because I had no drama business (excepting one friend who also was part of my high school drama department, and she continued to call me "Homie T.", but she was the only exception).  It just seems easier to go by my legal name at school because that's what all my "papers" say.  Besides, professors already have a hard time learning names, why complicate it for them?

Generally, I avoided the problem.  I didn't seek new relationships, nor did I try introducing myself.  When inevitable, I quickly chose one and quickly forgot thereafter.  In most cases, I had no problem because I didn't have to recall those initial introductions: either it was a superficial, happenstance acquaintance, or I came across as anti-social and distant (/condescending despite my efforts) and people consequently avoided me.  In either case, I was relieved.  So much for the transformative power of new beginnings!  At least, I didn't add any other names to the extant queue.  That would have been tough.

But...the problem still remains.  Living on campus makes it hard to identify myself for my other co-habitants.  I never really escape the omnipresence of school, and so having different names doesn't seem plausible.  But, I've spent so much of my life...in fact, 75% of it...flowing between (and then among) different names, (and maybe identities?); I'm not sure that I can be a one-named individual anymore.  It feels like selecting one gives up parts of who I am.

This of course is absurd.  Who I am doesn't depend on my name.  In fact, when I talk to myself, I don't use any name, except maybe "you" or "I" (or tu/je or tú/yo, depending on the language).  It would seem, then, in an effort to preserve my personal integration, I shouldn't have a name.  That seems, though, an unlikely possibility.  Alternatively, I could randomly pick a name, assign to it the things that I like about myself and project the things I don't like about myself to the other name and then purge myself of the unliked projected identity.  It's a strawman-type solution.  However, the reall issue remains: that I like having more than one name!

I'm mentioning this because I've recently decided that I should try to be the same person online as off.  Since then, I don't see my non-cyber self becoming more like my Internet personage, I've been steadily making progress to eliminate the differences.  For exampe: I've deactivated my facebook page(s?) and purged my subscriptions of the terribly unreliable ones (like when I subscribed to someone two years ago, but that same someone hasn't posted in a year!).  In the first case, I'm not a public person.  I don't make it easy to get to know me, facebook seems like the complete opposite of me.  In the second case, I generally get rid of things that don't have current value.  I'm a constant purger: clothes, computer documents, etc.  I get rid of everything for which I have no utility.

Now, however, I have accomplished lo facil.  For better integration, I need to start hacking away at my xanga life.  I'm not entirely sure how that will manifest.  In the spirit of honesty, I'll let you know that I have even considered xangacide (as thetheologianscafe has aptly phrased it).

At present, my identities are converging, but they're still distinct. Needless to say, there are some very real, imaginary obstacles I must overcome to understand how I should respond to all of this--not the least of which is how to introduce myself.  It's simply not a pleasant position.  But don't worry: I'll get through it (for the record, this is an ironic appeal: I don't anticipate a care profound enough on your part to cause worry.  I just want to be clear and reveal a little bit about my sense of humor).

So, if for some reason, you suddenly cannot read my entries or are no longer my xanga friend, don't take it personally.  It really is me, not you.