I find myself frustrated because I'm being called names. More accurately, I'm being called a name that I do not like. This may seem like a tiny matter, but it's starting to really bug me. I go by, David B. Riley. That's what's at the top of this very blog. That's what's on the byline of all the articles, stories and books I've written. I have never wanted to use any other variant during my adult life. The State of Arizona feels otherwise. My health insurance records are all David Bryan Riley. My drivers license is David Bryan. I am forced to register to vote as David Bryan because that's what it says I am on my legal documents. All in allegiance to a grandfather I never met. The title of my house on county records is under David Bryan... and the list goes on.
I've considered going to court to change it--but that's a fairly involved process. Thus far I have not wanted to do it. That seems to be the only solution. Oddly, in many states, one can legally change their name with no formalities--they just use the name they want. Good luck getting the goons at the voting registration to buy into that.
The exceptions are, as already stated, my writing endeavors and in banking. Banks seem perfectly fine with David B. and the nice folks at the IRS are fine with David B.
But no one else does. I guess I should count my blessings. At least no one stuck me with a bizarre name like Earth Unit or a dog name like Rex or a girl's name like Francis [Yeah, it's really a girl's name].