I doubt that the male thing would have gone to the ceremony it would have been too worried about acceptance.
Interesting. Hummm.
I think for me it would have been the exact opposite. It would have been the male side that hungered for that acclaim, that validation, that outward sign, that token to hang on the wall like a trophy. The tekla side? She don't care 'bout nothing 'cept the work.
My offices (I had two, one at school and one at home, both different sections of the same room - almost exactly, just separated by 45 miles) in a previous life, which was very male (I was so fighting to prove that, you know), was just so that way. They looked like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame memorabilia collection with a bunch of degrees/certificates/awards - you know, 'official ->-bleeped-<- that made me look official' interspersed among the laminates, posters, and stage junk. The office furniture in both was heavily industrial 1950's battle-ship grey Steelcraft with a nice Chrome Dinette table (yellow in school, red at home - perfect condition) in each one too. (I was f'ing retro before anyone even coined the term) It SCREAMED importance (or 'self importance' - one or the other). But those were his offices.
The office that I currently reside in is the one Kat decorated, and its funny, not a single college degree (and I've got the f'ing complete set), not a single framed award or certificate, out of about a hundred or so laminates and credential tags (that ALL used to be kind of casually displayed) there is exactly one up on the wall (my Fillmore All Access pass), there are no Dead posters, no rock posters, nothing signed (and I have thousands of posters, well over a hundred signed by various people). No drum sticks, drum heads or other stage junk (I've got boxes full of it), of the thousands of stickie passes I've got, there is one and only one in a frame, and that doesn't even have a name on it (its from Bob Dylan). Of all the Dead stuff (and I could do a full layout in every room of my place and just turn the whole thing into a Jerry museum), the only thing that's out is my Barbie Doll with the tie-dye dress and a toy bus that was painted by Ken Kesey's son to look real psychedelic (and that's so obscure that only real die-hard Dead fans would understand it). The only bit of stage junk I've got up is a hair decoration that fell off of Shelia E's head (during a performance with her dad - which BTW was super f'ing awesome) and I tried to give back to her only to have her tell me to keep it (I also had one of her Manolo Blahnik heels that she kicked off during the show, but she did want that back, damn). But that just looks like one more girl/fem thing, it doesn't look music/rock/show biz at all. Oh, and I have a lovely vase that looks real psychedelic from across the room and only when you get up close do you see that it's full of picks with band names on them.
If you casually looked you wouldn't know I worked in the music biz, you wouldn't know I had PhD, or that I had ever gone to school at all, much less as much as I did. And it surprises people - heck it surprises me once in a while - that I DON'T have all that out, that's it's not all on display, that my walls are not a living monument to just how awesome me & my life really are.
But somehow I got over all that. Now, and for the past decade or so, my office is very subtle, very subdued, all done in black glass and black furniture and LED up-lighting (OK, that's kind of show biz). The walls have photos, mostly of my kids, but a couple of other ones I've taken of flowers, Vegas neon, pinball machines and a few of the more interesting people I've known (none of which are stars). There are several fashion photos framed, but no bands, no concerts, nothing academic, nothing historical.
And I think the difference is that he needed, wanted (demanded) that outward manifestation. It had to scream and shout (and slap them around a bit too) at everyone who walked in. That office was decorated for everyone else in the world but me. Kat didn't do it like that, she designed and decorated an office that she liked, that spoke to her, and that she liked being in & everyone else could go hang.
The three-dimensional expression of that is that the second chair, the 'guest' chair, in my prior offices was the central reference point, everything in the rooms flowed from that point outward, all calculated to enhance my magnificence/mystique(megalomania?) Now, I don't even have a second chair in there. Never. Ever. Not interested in having people 'in' my office anymore at all. They can go make their own offices and solve their own problems.
Now the Fung Shi (I've got one entire wall that is ceiling to floor mirrors and lots of shiny things - contrasting with the black on black on black of the furniture quite nicely - so there is a huge amount of infinity in the room) of the room is centered on the place at the desk where I sit, where I work, where I think & where I apply makeup and style the wigs too.
Kat only centers on tekla anymore & everyone else can go hang.
