I have an overwhelming need to be contained. Whether by strong arms or tight jeans.
The body and fear of the body is something I have yet to understand. Sociology is blowing my little mind into the abyss: the body politic, the role and policing of the body, the pressures that are inherent in our cultures and societies that are ever-present and subtlety moulding us into what is expected. I’ve become increasingly suspicious, and horrifically cynical (more so than before, bless me).
Everything that occurs suddenly has meaning and purpose. The constant narrative in my head, sometimes visualising the words as I think them, has become punctured by question marks. The points dotted ferociously. I have been conditioned into someone that is incredibly self-reflective. This comes after years of therapy, general misunderstanding, and repeated existential crises. I was never a child that asked why. You know those kids, they think it’s funny to why – why – why until you’re explaining gravity and construction of particles. I was not that kid. I work with independent intrigue, and a keen need to understand. I need to know things. And be certain in my understanding and knowledge. This becomes complicated in the realm of GCSE physics (“it just does, Katya” NOT GOOD ENOUGH MR MURRAY) and also when contemplating the self.
There are theories and then there are more theories. So far I like to think that my own aren’t as far fetched as Freud’s or Foucault’s. I enjoy thinking about how their ideas came about, how they were published and became influential by providing explanation to things that fundamentally already exist. They didn’t invent calculus or the scale; they observed and then made up names for things, including things that seem, well, obvious. I like the idea that I’ll come across something obvious and pre-existing and say, hey, you know this abstract thing that we all have experienced? Yeah, I’m going to offer an explanation as to why this happens. Like modern art – it’s the “I could’ve done that” “..but you didn’t” principle.
A bit like the bible, really.