Say My Name
I'll admit to any number of weaknesses and personality quirks, but the main topic appropriate here today is my identity crisis.
By my estimation, I have at least three variants on my birth name, plus two or four solid nicknames, and perhaps an alter-ego or two. (And that's not counting the pet names, like "Shit-For-Brains" and "Asshole" or even "Jennifer," I know some folks keep for me.)
So it was quite a chore to make the Most Important Decision of My Journalistic Life: Choosing a byline. Folks named me Gerald Ramsey Anderson Jr., not much I can do about that. Sometimes go by Jerry, sometimes go by Gerald, sometimes been called Junior. (And that's  with a "J" and "Gerald" with a "G," as I'm constantly having to explain, like "B" as in "Bill" and "W" as in "William.")
My dad to this day calls me Ace, and nothing else, which I secretly like and will always answer to, out of Pavlovian conditioning, even in a loud, crowded bar. But really, only he can get away with it.
And my sister calls me Roy, but let's not even get into that.
So, what nom de plume works? I've tried them all. or "Gerald" with "Anderson" is out; way too bland and common. Don't believe me? Look in the Minneapolis phone book. Any of those numbskulls could be writing this right now.
So, my logic goes, add the middle initial. Fine: "Gerald R. Anderson." Still, doesn't quite narrow it down, as I would never want to incur the wrath anyone may have for dear old dad, shady character that he is. So, gotta add the "Jr." Now it's too long: Gerald R. Anderson Jr. Alright, how about initials only?
And voila! An awkward, mysterious and pretentious byline is born!
I bring all of this up because it's becoming kind of a pain in the ass, and this paper, for the first time, published it wrong (dropped the "Jr.") in the last story I wrote. (No link to it here; the error was only in the print edition.) I'm hardly inclined to bitch or blame anyone, since it's the only time out of about 100 that my byline has been screwed up at City Pages. And that's pretty damn good. (Besides, I'm growing fond of strangers leaving voicemails for "G. R.")
But other times it can be, well, defeating. On the rare occasion that I've won some obscure award for whatever crap I've cranked out, the "Jr." invariably is left off, most recently last month when a story I wrote appeared on a big-time, notable stories of 2001 list. Credited to "G. R. Anderson."
How could they be so careless, those insensitive notable-list makers and anonymous award-givers? Don't they understand how much I've agonized over this? Don't they understand the anguish they cause? Not to mention the family friction: Over time, my father has spirited away every award I've ever won, but he'll never lay claim to a lousy story.
Finer Point
A couple of boring blog notes to you faithful reader(s): This software has a feature that allows us to set the number of blogs per page. I set mine to five, but when I posted more than that, it appeared as though the earlier blogs had disappeared altogether. That is not the case; I just haven't figured out how to set the "previous page" feature at the bottom of the page yet. At the moment, if you really want to read this thing thoroughly, click on an underlined day on the little calendar in the upper-righthand corner of your screen.
And comments. I miss 'em. We can't have that feature turned back "on" just yet, and I gotta say I wish we could. For now, please feel free to e-mail comments, gripes and accusations to granderson@citypages.com, and I'll post some here. Really.
4:29:03 PM 
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