Daily Prompt: It’s All About Me, Baby

I’m seriously lagging with all these daily prompts.  Or maybe it’s because I was just dragging myself these past few days because of the impending doom that was called Valentine’s Day…

Anyway, so I’m getting all caught up now (as much as I humanly can) but still choosing only the prompts that I don’t draw a blank at when I’m sitting in front of the computer going, what the crap do I say to that prompt?

Which takes me to this post’s Daily Prompt because I DO have something to say (yey me):

Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.

I was raised to be always courteous and respectful to my elders, or any elder for that matter, even when they didn’t have your best interests at heart, or when all they wanted was to screw the hell out of your ten-year old brain.  It just came with the culture (I know, I know…it came with MY culture, like messed-up extended family culture).

You didn’t look at people in the eye and you did not answer back (not that I did not look people in the eye especially when they pissed the crap out of me, and did not answer back – but that is neither here nor there).

So when I finally got out of that cultural hell hole and ran away to America, I thought, great, I’m finally free of ya’ll crazy-ass people.

But I wasn’t.  They were all living inside my very being like renters who did not pay a penny of rent, but still told you what to do, how to do it, and to always always listen to everyone else but yourself because you didn’t know any better.  And that you were no good.

It took me years of discovering that I had to boot all them out of my very being through psychoanalysis, some booze and some smoking some good cigars and cigarettes (still can’t do smoke rings but really, if you don’t smoke, don’t start), some new age mumbo-jumbo, kundalini yoga, past life regressions (mostly unsolicited but that’s just the crowd I run with), writing and even learning the whole art of therapeutic massage just to get past the deeply-ingrained belief that the only kind of touch had to do with sex, and only sex (learning massage is hard-core though – I’m now over 1,000 frigging hours of this craft – massage, I mean, not the sex, although that’s not such a terrible idea – and teaching it as well – again, referring to massage, not sex).

I’m still not at the finish line, or remotely close to it, but I’m working on it.  I still find some of these tenants holding on and have to work at kicking them the hell out, and each time, it’s a challenge, and continues to be.

But going back to the prompt (yes, I do get side-tracked like that) – years ago, I discovered Celtic mythology and I really gravitated towards one particular diety or goddess called The Morrígan.  According to wikipedia:

The Morrígan is a goddess of battle, strife, and sovereignty. She sometimes appears in the form of a crow, flying above the warriors, and in the Ulster cycle she also takes the form of an eel, a wolf and a cow. She is generally considered a war deity comparable with the Germanic Valkyries, although her association with a cow may also suggest a role connected with wealth and the land.

During one of the most challenging times of my life, I called upon the inner morrigan and made her my own.  She became my alter ego (at least online, or in real life, when called upon and you really really pissed me off and before I go ballistic on you and all) and my pillar of support.  Mostly, I think, it was out of a rage that really just needed to come out and be heard.  It meant me no longer being afraid of what people thought of me, to finally come out on my own and simply be me.  I was not going to be a martyr for anyone.  Not anymore.

I see my mother and see the renters who’ve never paid rent for the last seventy years of her life and I’ve seen how crippled it’s made her.

But not me.

As for the second part of my blog name, it has to do with my current muse and all the muses who came before.  I stopped writing for almost ten years – from 2003 – 2012 – and when I finally snapped myself out of my misery, I realized that it was time for the muse to come out, whoever he or she may be, and do what I’d always wanted to do for as long as I can remember.

This blog is like a coming-out party of sorts.  It seems to be all about writing, but maybe in time, it will slowly evolve to reveal more of who I am than who I would like you all to see me as (because you know, it takes forever to get every bit of those non-paying tenants out of my being).

And whether you like it or not, it is just what it is.

This time, it’s all about me.

Image from the Morrigan Program

2 thoughts on “Daily Prompt: It’s All About Me, Baby

    1. That’s exactly the word I couldn’t think of. Same word for the ‘neighbors’ who were trying to break down our fence during the neighborhood fire. I don’t remember whether I could find that word “squatters” at that time although it’s a major reality for me growing up as we were surrounded by them.

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