New York Times editor Frank LaForge retweeted a link to an article that posed a question I never thought I’d ponder: Who owns my Twitter identity?

 Of course a mere three years ago, twitter was a verb, not a proper noun, and it certainly didn’t have an identity associated with it, not for me, not for anyone, except bird watchers perhaps.

 But now, a Twitter identity takes on this whole meaning that’s causing me to pause. Who owns my Tweets? Of course I do, because, well, they’re in my name, and that’s my face on the page. Just because I work for a newspaper and Tweet on their behalf at times doesn’t mean a thing.

 Does it?

 The answer seems to vary. Even as corporations, and in particular, publications, roll out social media guidelines, the specifics are only slowly becoming defined. The general rule seems to be if the Tweets are in your name alone, you’re safe. If they’re of a company or publication’s name, the page is probably not yours, even if you’re the creator and author.

 I can’t imagine anyone – even my employer -- fighting over my Tweets. But this whole concept of alternate identities and ownership got me thinking about how many lives I lead in a given day, how many worlds I inhabit, how many identities I juggle.

 For instance, I’ve been in the physical world all week, but my conversations have mostly taken place elsewhere, and using alternate identities, be it my blogging ID, my Twitter self or on Facebook.

Each world’s just a little different and the populations of people I “know” vary from place to place. Thankfully, I go only by my real name and face, so I don’t have lots of handles and avatars to recall.

 Using my real name, is, actually quite wise, I’ve come to learn. Social identity theft – a growing problem, who knew – is not as big a problem for me, whose name is sprinkled all over the place.

People who keeps their names under wraps and therefore up for grabs run the risk of having their actual names hijacked by anyone seeking social revenge or financial gain. It never occurred to me someone might Tweet or Facebook falsely under my name, but I can see how it could easily get your tires slashed if you have some enemies.

 It’s actually recommended that you sign-up under your real name on as many sites as possible, staking claim to your name so no one else can. It seemed a rather absurd suggestion until I thought how annoyed I’d be if I suddenly showed up on Sarah Palin’s Facebook page with gushing commentary of love and support. It’d be easy enough for anyone to do, I suppose, even now -- an underscore or a middle name would be close enough to mine, a right-click on my photo …

 Why anyone would want to do this of course is an entirely different story. Can’t imagine. Then, I can’t imagine half of what I read everyday.

 Just to be safe, I’m going to name-drop myself all over the web, so no one else gets to it first and starts Reddit-ing articles on my behalf or setting goals for me on 43 Things.