Growing up, I never really cared for my name. As an adult, I'm still not sure that I like it so much as I've just acquiesced to the fact that this is my name. In high school I'd considered trying to change it when I went to college but I ended up rooming with a friend I'd known since sixth grade so that thought quickly dissipated. For better or worse, I have given in to being me. It's not a bad name, as far as names go, but it just doesn't quite feel like it resonates with me, never really has.

As a kid, I always changed my name when my best friend and I played games. Anne, Chloe, Amy, Charlotte, Tiger (I was six and kind of a weirdo)--as long as it wasn't my own name, I was open to it. In first grade, I decided to try out some of my alternate names. Each time, the worksheet was returned to me with the misnomer crossed out and a note in red pen that said, "This is not your name." I'm pretty sure my teacher thought I was going through some kind of elementary identity crisis.

When I was twenty-one, I visited my friend, V, in Boston. On one of my last nights there, we went out to a bar with a bunch of his friends. We ended up talking to a young woman neither of us had met before who introduced herself as Home Fries.

"Nice to meet you, I'm V," V had said, offering his hand. I followed suit and as Home Fries chatted with V, I studied her. Unnatural blonde curls forced into submission with hairspray, skin damaged by either the sun or a tanning bed, and small lines scrunched into accordions at the corners of her eyes. She was dressed in Daisy Dukes and a crop top that exposed soft, slightly doughy albeit very tanned skin. But more than her appearance, I was fixated on her name. She had obviously chosen to rebrand herself as "Home Fries" but for all I know, that's what it says on her birth certificate. I had so many follow up questions but no nerve with which to ask them. Why Home Fries? How long have you gone by that? Is this just your nighttime, bar alter-ego or are you Home Fries when you go to the bank? What name is on your driver's license? How did you settle on Home Fries? Did you try out variations like "Home Slice" first?

My most pressing question, however, is how does it feel to claim a new identity? At the time, I felt so boring and insecure that I didn't even know how to be myself, let alone a super alter-ego.

I have always found drag queens fascinating. The amount of effort that goes into the physical transformation is nothing short of an art form but, as might be expected, I am more interested in the alter-egos that drag produces. The punny names appeal to my love of words but even more than that, I love the personalities of drag queens. Loud, vibrant, confidant--they're everything I want to be. Maybe with a little less makeup and God knows newborn deer are more graceful than me attempting to walk in high heels, but I love the whole concept of getting to be someone else for awhile. Someone that you want to be.

I suppose that's why I've started writing under a pen name. I've been published under my real name, my maiden name, but I still feel that kind of disconnect. I'm also afraid of being judged for what I create. Writing under a fake name in no way guarantees freedom from judgement and I know that if I don't want to be judged, I shouldn't pursue a career in a creative field. It's like posting a video on YouTube--you can post an adorable video of your puppy sneezing and the comment section will probably be filled with positive comments but there will always be that one asshole who is going say your dog is stupid while declaring everyone's mother should do unspeakable sexual acts But writing under a pseudonym does give me a sense of freedom, like with this new name I can be who I want to be--or at least I can write what I want to write. Maybe somewhere along the way I'll become confident enough to own my writing again. Or maybe I'll decide that I like my author alter-ego and I'll choose to stick with it as my career moves forward. Either way, I'm going to have to figure out how to accept who I am, regardless of moniker.

I sometimes wonder about Home Fries. It's been nearly seven years since the first and only time I met her and the brief conversation we had. I'm sure a little effort on the internet could help me find her if I wanted to so I could finally ask her all of my questions but I'd rather not. I prefer to think of her as my champion of identity, my alter-ego spirit animal. If I were to say anything to her, I don't think I'd ask any questions. Instead, I would simply thank her for showing me, an insecure twenty-one-year-old, that I could be whoever I wanted to be, even if it has taken me seven years to realize the lesson. I clearly don't have anywhere near the amount of answers I want about who I am or who I want to be but I think I'm finally starting to figure it out--even if it took a random encounter and a pen name to get there.