Losing My Badass

I've been quiet. Really quiet, actually, which I found a little disturbing. The early days of this project were energizing and inspiring- I saw opportunities everywhere. My badass, all new and shiny, was easy to find. It was ubiquitous. Like all new stuff, though, it started to loose its luster pretty quickly. I worried that I just wasn't badass, that it just wasn't in me. Then I decided that I was just bored with the whole thing. Then I decided that I just didn't have anything say. Then that I was tired.

Now I've decided that this is a bit bigger than I thought it was. It's not just about learning the trappings of the badass (which, by the way, is proving tricky. Will no one teach a girl how to shoot a handgun anymore without expecting sex?), it's about uncovering a piece of who I am. I think I was a badass kid. I started adolescence as a badass. Then somewhere along the line I buried it. Buried it so deep that I thought it was something I had to become rather than something I had to uncover.

I didn't anticipate that, once uncovered, my badass would then endeavor to bury itself like a frightened stingray- only deeper. My badass ran far and fast and did a swan dive into the LaBrea Tarpits to protect itself- protect me- from what the world would think. My badass is shy, apparently. This is, of course, completely the antithesis of badass. Badass doesn't' give a rat's ass what the world thinks and wants to be the center of attention, right?

Um...no.

So my new job (along with trying to find someone in the world who will teach me to shoot!) is to coax my badass out of it's hiding place and build a transparent wall of approval (mine, not yours) around it so high and thick that it will stay out and play.

Apparently, this badass thing is more complicated than I thought it would be.