I'm not who I say I am.
That's a pretty powerful confession, huh? Obviously, it's not entirely true, either. My birth certificate, tax records and lack of secret-agent credentials - not to mention the byline of this column - all attest to the fact that I am, in fact, Casey Phillips.
Perhaps I should rephrase: I'm not JUST who I say I am.
Like so many people these days, I lead a double life. To people I interact with in the world of all things real and tangible, I'm one person. But online? I go by many names.
EPB's records show me as cphillips. On Instagram, I'm c_phillips. Twitter users know me as @PhillipsCTFP.
My longest-standing alternate identity, however, is almost 20 years old, which speaks as much to the surprising permanence of digital aliases as it does to my age and the Internet's.
This first pseudonym dates back to when I set up my first email address at age 10. Today, creating one is the definition of simplicity - timing myself, I just set up a new account in less than 90 seconds - but back in '95, it felt like a pioneering exploit worthy of Lewis and Clark. After all, this is where I would receive electronic mail, whatever that was, and my parents wouldn't be able to see it.
But first, I had to choose an account name, a secret identity of sorts.
As a rabid Star Wars fan, I tried out some obvious possibilities such as HanSolo and DarthVader. Those were already taken, however, and I eventually was forced to settle for one derived from Tatooine, Luke Skywalker's home world. In my childish exuberance, however, my fingers slipped, and as a result, I've been known as Tantoonie0 for almost two decades.
That admission is hard to make. Not because of my atrocious preteen spelling skills, but because it's left me exposed and uncomfortable, much like Darth Vader must have felt when his helmet was removed. Now, actions I take using that alias will no longer be secret. I'm unmasked and accountable again.
In light of the culture of the negative, destructive behavior bred by perceived anonymity online, however, I feel like a little less digital secrecy can't hurt. How much differently would people behave and treat each other if they couldn't hide behind a fictional moniker? I know I'll think twice about the things I say and do. (Or else start using that account I just created.)
How about you? Do you use your real name online? If not, why not? Send me a message and we'll chat. After all, you know how to find me.
Contact Casey Phillips at cphillips@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6205. Follow him on Twitter at @PhillipsCTFP.