How I tried to enhance my life and failed

My latest suminagashi (Japanese paper marbling) practice--or how the word serpentine can also describe my day

Today was the day! I would get my Minnesota driver's license. Make this move official!--and why not get the enhanced driver's license while I as at it? I'm a day's drive from the Canadian border. I'm in love with Oaxaca, Mexico --wouldn't it be great to take off in either direction with just my enhanced driver's license and not worry about my passport?

I filled out the form online--guaranteed to shave 15 minutes off the venture. (This is particularly humorous if you've ever waited in line at an L.A. area DMV. Fifteen minutes is nothing.) I printed out my confirmation for the pre-filled form and gathered my documents. Or tried to.

This gathering of papers had its own drama. I got locked out of my Xcell Energy account trying to remember my password and had to call for assistance because one has to have a utility bill to prove that you reside at your address. And I had to have a 2nd proof of residence as well ( that seemed easy, but, in the end, was not.) I also needed my passport (cannot be expired) and my current driver's license from my previous state (also cannot be expired.) I needed my Social Security card (cannot be laminated or a mere photo copy.) Oh--and had I ever changed my name? Good god. I needed to show proof of that weary trail.

Moving creates this bizarre effect. When you go to find something, you can remember where it was in your previous abode, but you have no idea where it is now. Here. In this place. Where the fuck is this thing I'm hunting for? I had to find what I call the marriage box. I found it in the storage cage inside another box, and inside the marriage box I found my certificate of marriage (cannot be a photocopy) The marriage document, along with my certified decree of divorce (must be an official government agency document, not a photocopy) I thought would show my transition from the name I was born with to my married name to the made-up new name I decided to call myself post-marriage (it was a weird idea, but at least I chose my maternal grandmother's maiden name as my new surname and did not become Paris France or Bimbo Dumas, which were also in the running.)

Did I mention I spent the morning reading the 90-some page Minnesota driver's license manual? Recipe for anxiety attack. All the terrible things that can go wrong and how you can be fined and imprisoned for the worst of them-- if you somehow manage not to die.

So I stood in a very short line, went to another line where I was the only person in it, took the test, passed, got sent back to the first very short line where I thought my sheaf of documents would be stamped with approval. Turns out I needed my birth certificate which I have not seen since my pre-divorce life. And my 2nd proof of residence, a property tax payment stub with my full address, was not good enough. One must bring the whole page. (All of the information is the same--just larger.)

So I came home and ordered my birth certificate. Honest to god, who changes their middle name in addition to their last name? (which is itself a name just pulled out of the hat of family names?) The online form almost glitched. But it didn't. The new me ordered the birth certificate for the original me. It should be here in 5 days.

But I wonder how do people born in little villages in war torn countries who emigrate ever jump through these hoops? What if you change your name(s) and your gender? 

Not to mention that I do have a valid U.S. passport...why isn't that good enough? I also have my irises and my fingerprints on file with Clear.