Ego, Ergo, Ago

Why so?

I spent a lot of time on Threads today, as I had a fever. Or a series of hot flashes that extended through the day.

Bed bound with an eye makeup injury. Accidentally got setting spray in my eye. It was red and achy for three days. Really made me reevaluate my previous all the makeup goth stance. I love black eyeliner as much as anyone, but I am under strict orders not to wear makeup until this has completely healed. Think I’ll survive.

Threads brought me to the question of ego. Authorial ego. Creative ego. Is it only a problem when wielded by a woman?

This is one of those highly personal, ever shifting psychological states. It is on my mind as I have had to google myself way more than usual. Trying to update my professional listing to my married name. It is updated, but now there are two of us. I was not aware that I had a less evil twin.

The post nuptial admin goes on. Regaining control over my Goodreads Author Account. Regaining control over my Amazon Author Account. All because of a legal, conventional name change.

It’s got me thinking about what it is to be a working artist and female. See Cunning Like Doves: Inquiries with Women in the Art World, for further analysis. My interview is quite hostile, but so was I in those before times.

I’ve noticed that men say periodically, “Some of you take yourself/things too seriously.” The male default setting professionally is to be taken seriously, while the female? Not so much. The enrages me. I try to keep the rage inside like all the other rage I bleed out monthly.

Truly, I am forty nine years old and the fact that I still have my period is appalling. I would like to speak to Menopause’s manager. Now that I am a ma’am with grey hair and a modest hemline, could we please get this Perimenopause over with?

Hope for equality in these troubled times is but a pipe dream. The Heritage Foundation calls for more babies, less feminism. Well, some of use were raised by fiery1970s feminists.

I never bred as the world I lived in was a living hell for a great deal of the time. I wouldn’t want to bring a child into this world. Now am I too old. Smug as hell about it.

I look forwards to turning fifty as a modicum of respect seems to lie within this hallowed age.

In closing, my latest short film.