Month: July 2015

I like to remember myself as a cool teenager. Someone obsessed with pursuing her own individuality, intentionally pursuant of the unpopular choice, and undeterred by her peers.

But the reality was that I was an insecure kid like anyone else. I had my heart constantly broken, cared deeply about others’ perceptions of me, went through bouts of eating disorders and depression, and fought like hell to maintain my own sense of self despite being pummeled daily with religious tyranny, racist and homophobic slurs, self-segregation, and classism.

I vividly remember being told 2 months into arriving in 8th grade in my new, rural hometown, “You’re moving really fast. You’re already on the B list. Me and Crystal, we’re A list. You might be like us one day.”

This literally happened.

My response?

“That’s cool. I think I’m fine on the B list.”

I had frequent religious arguments with a crush on the bus; the first of many internal romantic struggles in wondering to my diary, “Why do I like this guy who’s so combative? There is literally nothing we share a belief on.” And that’s how I learned my first adult lesson in relationships. Also, years later, turns out he was gay.

I remember chatting with a new friend as she covertly whispered, “See that girl? She just had a baby by a black guy.”

I conspiratorially leaned against her ear to reply, “It must suck to have a baby at 16, but I don’t care what color it is.”

I used to journey to Atlanta with my friends to perform in Rocky Horror as Columbia on Friday nights. I learned swing dancing and recited the movie line for line, expression for expression. I somehow managed to convince a bunch of kids from the Baptist church that transvestites were cool.

And yet, I couldn’t convert a whole town. I couldn’t change a city’s way of thought. So as soon as I possibly could (about a year after the picture of me with pink hair next to Grandma was taken), I left it–and them. And I haven’t looked back.

Washington, I’ll never love you or remember you fondly. Sorry. But maybe we’ll both find some solace in the fact that opposites sometimes just aren’t meant to attract.

And as further comfort, maybe you were gay all along.

We can cross “tangible skill” off the Bucket List, because I officially know how to be a 90 year old woman.

Over the last week, I’ve learned how to knit and make candles – in fact, here’s Todd enjoying the lovely lavender-scented one I created earlier in the week.

I’ve also been keeping up with my guitar lessons, but I definitely wouldn’t claim to have mastered any part of those yet.

This week has been great – helping with a lot of business wins, settling into my role, seeing friends, and continuing to explore my personal journey into unknown territory. Feeling happier, healthier, and more fulfilled every day. I just still miss my old work buds like crazy. A Friday isn’t a Friday without Dave’s Casual Friday t-shirt, or Black Cock with the creative team (calm down, it’s a liquor I bought in Thailand).

In any case, my new hobbies should help me make a dent in all this insane debt we’ve incurred over the last few months. Between the scooter, a new bed set, and my surgery… shit ain’t cheap.

Oh dear. Now I really may be a 90 year old woman.

Well, you know.

Not much progress of late on the bucket list. There’s been a lot of wound-licking and life transitions that have gotten in the way of my goals, but it hasn’t stopped me from pursuing the first steps of them.

I’m also creeping along in my #HandstandsAcrossAmerica mission – I’m at 3 states now. The cross country trip should help knock quite a few off.

PHYSICAL AND MENTAL HEALTH

30. Climb a mountain.

29. Run a 10k.

28. Nail a handstand in yoga.

27. Get spiritual.

EDUCATION

26. Learn a language.

25. Master a skill.

24. Read some books that actually mean something.

23. Develop some knowledge about cars.

TRAVEL

22. Visit Thailand.

21. Take a trip with my Dad.

20. See a Wonder of the World.

19. Take a cross-country road trip with Brandon.

LIFE CHANGES

18. Volunteer regularly somewhere for at least 6 months.

17. Turn off the T.V. for a week.

16. Finish my book.

MONEY MATTERS

15. Invest in 5 diversified stocks.

14. Build retirement fund.

13. Own a second home.

EVOLVE MY RELATIONSHIPS

12. Get closer with my sister.

11. Go on a walk at least once a week with Brandon.

10. Try something more sexually adventurous than usual.

9. Be a good in-law.

8. Send a real letter to a friend every month for a year.

TEST MY LIMITS

7. Zip line.

6. Participate in a big cultural event like a music festival or Oktoberfest.

5. Swim with a shark. Or at least sting rays.

4. Learn to surf. Or at least try.

3. Be personally responsible for winning a big piece of business.

2. Perform in a play or musical.

PERSONAL SATISFACTION

1. Learn to be happy just as I am.

I got really mad a few weeks back when someone told me to “stop being such a girl.” Looking back, I’m not sure whether I was more offended by the implication that I was weak or that somehow girls were an inferior sex, but nevertheless, hell hath no fury like me scorned.

What does it mean to be a girl? Well, it means a hell of a lot.

It means growing and bearing children, dealing with a monthly hell akin to witnessing a the murder of your own organs, managing your hormones and being expected to expertly manage the hormones of others.

But more than the physical, it means living in a world that has always viewed you as the Worst Half, as the loser. Being successful, even in industries that embrace women, is always done in spite of gender and not irrelevant of it. We couldn’t vote until outrageously recently, have limited ability to secure leadership positions, and still get paid less than men (at an unnamed job, I was paid half of what someone managing significantly less than I was, and performed his job objectively worse, even after I negotiated several raises).

Being a girl also implies that you’re weak, don’t deserve to have feelings, and should ignore how you’re treated. The strong are those that ignore their humanity and embrace the cold reality that life isn’t fair. They are the ones who manage without emotion and bump along in some sort of psychopathic stride. They are out for #1 and are calculating in their approach to life. Well, sorry if it “makes me a girl,” but I am one, and given the alternative, I’d prefer to be.

As women, we are ridiculed, catcalled, treated as disposable, and objectified from ages as young as 7 or 8. We are constantly measured by our appearances as the sole metric for our value, and to stand up for ourselves paints us as bitches. The world has dramatically changed since the 1950s when women were expected to stay home and cook, but we’ve reached a new stage of sexism that’s almost too sinister and silent to claim as real, which makes it all the more dangerous. Now there’s just this underlying hum that peppers every meeting or relationship, the eerie sense that you’re being viewed as not good enough, and the creeping sensation that you notice it only because you’re crazy or too sensitive.

Girls, we have the capability of being so powerful, but we give our power away because we’re afraid of what the alternative looks like. We are quiet when we know better, we stay at jobs that treat us as “less than,” we stay in relationships that are damaging and abusive, we elect not to raise our hands because of the looks we might get.

I know we’ve all heard about “leaning in,” and that’s important. But you know what? We shouldn’t have to lean. We should be standing in the middle of the conversation and contributing everything we’re capable of. When someone tells us to stop acting like a girl, we should be responding that we’re acting like a human, and welcome to the fucking race. Because speaking as someone who has never let her gender get in the way of her success, I’m still impacted every day by the veil society has draped over my face.

And I’m taking it the fuck off.

Had to share.

 

What a whirlwind couple days! The sales team came into the office for lots of training, and I sat in. Couple that with the late dinner, heated conversations, and too much wine last night, and I’m spent.

Meanwhile, things are good. I’m settling in around here and sounding moderately intelligent. People are friendly and I even got to play a pick-up game of basketball in our desk area. Yes, we were using footballs as basketballs, and yes, that did affect our shooting ability, but at least we were all at similar skill levels.

To make things even better, I just said “Rad” to a sales guy, as I’ve been trying to bring that word back for a solid 6 months, and he responded with this picture:

These might be my people here.

I went to the movies to see Ted 2 today – a nice, lighthearted comedy.

All showings were canceled – I guess something was wrong with the projector. The only other movie coming up was Amy – about Amy Winehouse.

There’s nothing like a 2-hour biopic about a depressed, heroin-addicted, bulimic singer to really lift your spirits.

Great music, though!

 

Successfully talked a client out of a campaign today. #Winning!

Slightly more relevant background: that offering didn’t make sense for them, so we suggested they go the direction of another of our products. But I prefer to advertise it as my first of many failures.