I’m either a pro golfer or a 19th century painter. Fortunately, I don’t show up. ETA: those were the old searches; new ones turn up a current artist! Now I’m tempted to buy her stuff just to freak her out. Oddly, the new artist and the old artist both do the same kind of art in different media.
My screen name used to bring up all sorts of stuff directly related to me until I put the kibosh on it. Now the only relevant link is to another MB.
My name isn’t completely common, but is not unique either. (i.e. when I look myself up on MySpace or Facebook, there are hundreds of the same name). However, when you google my name, my web sites come up as #1*, #2, and #6. Yay for SEO!!!
I share my real name with an R&B singer and a deadbeat dad (Chicago Catholic Charities kept sending me letters intended for him) - pretty sure they are not the same person.
I’ve been on the Net since 1988, and when I ego-Google my old usernames and addresses I’m continually astonished at the amount of stuff I used to know that I no longer know. I was an expert at using various 3D computer graphics programs and wrote about them quite extensively, and all of it is gone. I know different things now, but I’m amazed at the human brain’s ability to forget what we don’t need.
My most amazing same name encounter was at a computer graphics conference (SIGGRAPH) in Orlando, FL. I was waiting in line outside of Walt Disney World. We had bussed to WDW from the convention center and most of us were still wearing our name tags. I looked at the tag of the woman in line behind me. Her name tag was the same as mine. Same name, occupation and city. She was more freaked out than I was, as she obviously thought this was some sort of bizarre stalker thing. It doesn’t help that my own wife, who loves me, describes me to people who have never met me as “scary looking”.
My name has a slightly unusual spelling, so the hits I get on my name are mostly the real me, and I’m all over the place. The only unexpected thing I’ve ever found was a column I had written for an online magazine, reprinted in its entirety on a dating advice site, without my permission or my publisher’s. It was a tongue-in-cheek battle of the sexes editorial. The column was ripped apart by the site’s readers, one of whom suggested that I was a feminazi who should be raped and then gassed “like they did with the Jews.”
The funny part of this (and yes, there is one) is that their readers had missed the entire, VERY OBVIOUS point I made, which was that women should be kinder to men.
I vanity search Google all the time, for both my real name and my pen name, and occasionally look up ex-boyfriends and other people I’ve lost touch with.
But I also have Google Alerts (I think that’s what they’re called) set up on my real name and pseudonym. Google searches and just emails the results to me. I set a few up for our company, too, to see what other people get when they Google our company. But the personal alerts are how I found a story of mine copied and posted elsewhere on the web. I was ticked because it was one I’d been planning on polishing up and submitting for a print anthology. I contacted the site firmly and politely and it was removed.
I’ve also Googled chunks of my own text to see if my writing shows up where it shouldn’t.
There is at least another “me” who’d like my domain (real first name and last name dot com) when I’m sick of it.
Google’s very good at producing “me” in the top five results, either my own web page or my name in association with the company I work for (I’m on our web page with contact information) and the other “me”. Cuil? Not so much at all!
My married last name is very uncommon, but is the same as a doll manufacturer, and they have a doll with my first name, so that’s what pops up when I search for me. There’s also someone on IMDB whose first name is missing the final H that mine has, but I wasn’t born in Munich in 1990. Also there’s one of me in Cedar Rapids, Iowa who attended Harrison Elementary School. Amazing!
Using my maiden name, there’s nothing relevant to me in the first ten pages, so I stopped looking.