Today, I go to Greece.
This has been a dream since childhood. Now, thanks to a perfectly timed conference on Myth, I finally get to.
We read some Greek Mythology together in elementary school.
I was hooked, reading more and more.
This is surprising, since the mythology was used against me. The boys started calling me Medusa. When they were playing this game, they had to freeze on the playground when they locked eyes with me.
I assumed that I was hideous. I remember consciously making the decision to embrace being smart. I won’t ever be loved for beauty, I thought. But someday, there will be a guy who will love me for being really intelligent.
I took Athena as my patron goddess, although I did eventually (and the details were really hazy here) want a romantic relationship.
I wore owls and prayed to my goddess before tests.
I was too young, of course, to understand that Medusa was actually a gorgeous rape victim.
Greece never lost its allure for me. I routinely found ways to find all Roman history, art, and social structure lacking in comparison. The Greek gods factored in heavily when I taught comparative mythology (Dionysus=Osiris=Jesus). My degree in Theatre–and Theatre itself–owes everything to the Greeks.
Strangely, I’ve felt really numb leading up to this trip. Like I’m in shock.
Like Zeus will see my hubris and send his lightning bolt to fuck up my plans.
Dear Athena, I want to have an amazing time in your patron city. Tell your dad to leave me alone. And if something awful happens there, don’t turn my hair into snakes. Roomba (aka Sisyphus IV) and the cats just wouldn’t know what to do.
