The South is fantastic and weird. It is so beautiful here. I work with about 38 guys and two other girls. I am very grateful that my experience has trained me for environments like this. Especially since my professional environments have been high in vitamin estrogen since I left corporate IT.
It’s interesting to talk to the other two women, they are at that place where they don’t know if they can trust women in the workplace. I am modeling trustworthiness to them. I am modeling good will, because I remember when I was there.
I have been confronted toe to toe about my knowledge and experience by the alpha male, in public. I think he regrets that. He thought this California girl would be a push over. He thought that having his guys around would intimidate me. But I am so grateful for my experience in public confrontation (thanks cult!!). In public speaking, in business, in everything. I had one hell of a tit for his tat. And he has 20 years of experience in this technical industry, but when I pulled my 16 years of technical experience together and shot back. His guys started to back down and walk away. Hit the bully once, big, publicly and with humor not anger (like he had). Now he minds his own business and I got cred.
I wasn’t going to come out as bisexual because I am trying to practice personal boundaries and I didn’t want people all up in my business. And I didn’t want the whispers and chortling of being a bi-chick among dudes. I didn’t want that to be the only thing they remembered about me. I at least wanted my 90 day probation to be overwith. But I messed up the “pronoun game”. And said she when talking about my ex, instead of letting them assume he. It was only in front of my manager. After that he had a vacation planned and he came back and it’s not an issue. Except that he told me he’s too ugly to be gay.
Politically correct doesn’t really happen here and that is actually extremely refreshing to me. Because they don’t care if you walk away if you don’t want to hear it. And I do feel perfectly comfortable walking away. I love that they’ve only known me at this age. Everyone else has known me as a younger me, and people don’t see me as especially young here. That’s really liberating.
Everyone is mostly awesome and sweet. Lots of Southern charm. I love it.
I love her! She was my 29th birthday present to me. She’s a symbol of me overcoming fear and giving and accepting the wisdom and protection in the world.
I love having her lurk under my business suits. I love when she’s out in the sun. I love it when my bff gets in a mood and paints her with colors.
Some people have told me that she’s not pretty. And she’s not. It’s one of the things I love the most about her. She’s not an ornament for you. She’s a symbol for me. She’s who I want to be if I grow up.
Her face is an “in your face” reminder that a path isn’t always pretty. Pretty isn’t a goal or purpose. The seeking of wisdom, strength and protection is. I’m sorry that she made my friend’s toddler cry. I wonder if she’s now in his nightmares.
We all have fear and when I can face mine, after wrestling with it. I try to turn it into something safe. It’s getting to a place where I can turn and look fear in the eyes and not get petrified.
Get it...petrified? (drum riff)
Anyway, I guess this whole series was a way to say I’m thinking about getting another tattoo. I wonder what it will be?
I didn’t research a tattoo artist. I just walked in to a studio and asked for a tattoo. I was alone. The artist asked what I had in mind and I showed his S’s drawing. He loved the art and got really excited about the piece. I sat and flipped through books while he did a draft of it.
The woman at the counter asked me if I had any other ink and I said no. She asked if I had eaten and I said no. She told me to eat and come back… something about an adrenaline rush on an empty stomach and nausea.
I was let down. I was so ready to get it done and not in the mood to wait. I was too nervous to eat so I grabbed a bagel from Java City and two shots of tequila from The Merc. I went back and told her I’d had a good lunch.
I’ve wanted a tattoo since I was 15. I was told it was the mark of the beast and just trashy. I was told that getting a tattoo would ensure that I could never work professionally as a dancer. But at 28, since I was part owner of a technology firm and not on Broadway, I figured that since I had wanted one consistently for 13 years that maybe I should get one.
I wasn’t sure what symbol to use. I wanted something powerful, meaningful-something symbolizing my past and my future.
wings? I don't know how she got wings. Maybe she's laying on Hermes' feet?
My darling gorgon popped into my head. “I want Medusa!” I told my now ex. She is very talented and artistic. She is brilliant and meticulous at projects. She can make stuff and that’s always amazed me. We went to the library and looked online and found lots of pictures of her. I chose which snakes I wanted, which tongue, which tusks, etc. My art is a conglomerate of an old mosaic, a couple vase paintings and a coin.
Scary, zombie Medusa
All old, All new, All mine.
She put it together and we had a lot of fun with this project. And I am grateful that her art is on me even though we are no longer together.
This is the closest to my ink. Dig those stripey, feisty boots.
Thank you, S.
ps… Once I went to a Halloween party as Medusa. Big rubber snakey headdress, green body paint, a fabulous peplos. I looked amazing. A drunk guy asked me if I was broccoli.
I dreamed of Medusa. She was waiting around dark corners as I grew up. She alo fueled my passion and curiosity about Greek mythology. I studied her (after I left the cult) and saw her on the Goddess Athena’s breastplate.
from Wikipedia… Medusa was originally a beautfiul young woman with luxurious hair; she was desired by many, and was known far and wide for her tresses. Poseidon courted her in the Temple of Athena, who, as punishment at the violation of her temple, turned her hair into snakes and gave her the power to turn all who gazed on her into stone. She was beheaded by the hero Perseus, who thereafter used her head as a weapon until he gave it to the goddess Athena to place on her shield. In classical antiquity the image of the head of Medusa appeared in the evil-averting device known as the Gorgoneion. She also has two gorgon sisters.
I was recently talking to E and he said that many of the “monsters” in mythology have their own stories. They appear horrible and monstrous but many of them are pained, traumatized, cursed or half animal because Zeus did something kinky.
Back to Medusa, other interpretations have her as a symbol of women’s strength, protection and wisdom. This is rooted in her being a priestess of Athena. When I realized that this being who had terrified me was a protector, I thought that was an amazing metaphor for the other fears in my life.
My parents used to put us on a plane to go see my grandparents once a summer. I always enjoyed the week away with them. And it was fun to get spoiled and feel like an only child.
When I was 5 years old, my grandfather took me to a matinee one day. He told me we were going to see The Muppet Movie. We ended up at Clash of the Titans. It was the scariest thing I had ever seen.
In my world where demons were real, Medusa and sisters burned into my psyche and became the stuff of my nightmares. I spent most of the movie on his lap facing backwards staring intently at the guy behind us. (To the guy behind us: I’m sorry, that was probably weird for you.)
Sure, now I can differentiate the difference between a demon and a gorgon. But that slithering, snakey, scaley sister snuck into my senses to stay.