Joe(y)

This week, for the second time in a year, it was suggested to me that I drop my 'y' and start going by something more adult, professional, or hirable. For a number of reasons, some of which I can't fully articulate, that feels difficult to even consider. 

It was also suggested to me that I change my LinkedIn profile picture to something a little more professional, but that was much easier to digest. I'll be getting headshots done tomorrow. 

"Take yourself seriously, Joey." That's basically what I hear. And I do take myself seriously—I'm trying to at least. But, I'm also pretty stubborn about things like this. It's not about serious or unserious to me, it's about identity and authenticity of self.

It's begun to occur to me that my 'y' is also my 'why.' It's the reason I do this whole thing—the reason that I've been working so hard to make a real name for myself. 

The first time it was recommended I drop the 'y,' I was floored. I was told that I had options. Joe was better, but even JR, with which I sign all emails, would work. Joey, though, wouldn't. It was childish and didn't command the respect I deserved. Apparently. 

Joe's not bad, honestly. I'd go so far as to say it's good. Great, even. There are plenty of above average Joes in the world: DiMaggio, Swanson, Pesci, my dad. Actually, there are a select handful of people that call me Joe, but more as an affectionate nickname than an I-think-you-need-to-grow-up hint. Joe's great. It's just not really me, though. 

Remarking on my 'y' opens the door to a conversation about my authentic self. I've always been of the mind that people take life too seriously, in general. I have tried to cultivate a certain tone about my work and my life that finely balances serious and not. Truly, I try to walk the line of 'absurd' without teetering too far into 'inappropriate.' I think that's yet to translate perfectly into this project, but I'm hoping to figure out that new balance too. 

I'm still trying to identify and define what I want to do with my career and with this writing thing. There's a lot of uncertainty, so, naturally, when professional creatives give me advice, I'm inclined to take it, but not always without reservation. It feels to me like a whole new spin on "fake it till you make it." 

Dial it back till you're paid enough to be absurd? 

I'm concerned, frustrated, and disappointed to think that for the sake of a little letter or a fun profile photo, my work may not be fully considered or taken seriously. I get it though. I think.

I realize that I have to showcase that I really am committed to this work and to breaking my way into a career, whether that be marketing and advertising, publishing, or otherwise. And, to an extent, I do see the truth in the argument for a more sincere outward-facing personality. 

I feel, though, a disconnect between the call to authenticity that so many are pushing today, and actually putting a persona out in the world that reflects how I operate and act. That may be dramatic though. I'm also trying to figure that out.  

My 'y' is why I'm doing what I'm doing. I owe it to 2016 Joey to not give up on this passion and voice I've spent so long cultivating. I don't yet owe anything to a 2022 Joe. 

This summer has been a really interesting one. I left full-time, nearly around-the-clock work in the political sphere for part-time employment in the youth ministry office at the church I attended growing up. It's been a special experience to have so much more free time to focus on the things I want to do with my life—namely NOT politics. 

With the new gig, I've had the opportunity to go to two different summer camps and two different conferences, mostly in different states. It's been pretty cool. 

A friend made a joke the other day, while I was in Tiger, Georgia for camp #2, asking how many different name tags I've worn this summer. It's a lot—two camps, two conferences, high school reunion, a couple networking things. I may need to just carry one around with me permanently. 

It's always been Joey, though. If there's ever a name tag that says otherwise, I'll make a point of writing in my 'y.' It's always been that way. 

It may be an unreasonable attachment to my 'y,' but it really means more than just consistency and nostalgia—I've also worked to not take issue with unreasonability. If I give it up, am I giving up on the 'why' that initially jumpstarted this passion for the very words I write? 

Probably not. That's also dramatic, for sure, I get it. I'm taking the steps, it's just taking time too. Some would probably even counter that giving up my 'y,' at least professionally, symbolizes a step of growth and maturity, but frankly, I don't want to grow up, and never count on doing so, regardless of what my name tag says.