Heidegger is giving me grief, but a grief that I'm glad I feel - he gives me nightmares of being present at hand, a tool, literally, of not understanding my self in any context where my self isn't something that I can put in a box discard, or give away, or use.
I think this is my problem, as discussed with both Jared and Ian, of the modeling job offered by LB. I made some money, had my ego boosted, and walked away with the knowledge that that act, of putting oneself out there solely as an object, completely disenfranchised from ones actual, internal self.. is something that I neither wanted to do again, or for a living.
I'm not ugly. But walking to school, going to the grocery store, sitting having coffee, those are actions whereby my aesthetics are not part of the equation. Wherever I go, my face, my body, my breasts, they go with me, as a necessary (but not sufficient) indication of WHO I AM, and in this world, how WHO I AM can exist. I have that choice, by what I wear, by my posture, my demeanor, to make my physical case simply that - a physical case, which is simply a degrading and disappearing collection of atoms, chemicals, acids, bases and electrical pulses. But that is the choice - to make what is a (sometimes) unfortunate necessary condition solely necessary and not.. not everything.
To be out in the open, to have my body, my face, regarded as a sufficient indicator of that WHICH I AM, that somebody would see me again and know me as that body, that necessary condition, and to conflate that which is necessary with the belief that the necessary is also the sufficient - chokes me. To think that I would be critques solely on that container that holds who I am - scares me. To borrow from Butler - eventually you start to be what others think you are, by that being suggested so many times. Whether you like it or not. Some part of me is the person who is ashamed and upset when I get "hey baby"d, some part of me is proud, some part of me has learned to use that to my advantage...
But for that, for my body, to be the sufficient condition for identifying me? To be known...by that?
Fucking philosophy. I'm actually poor by moral choice at this moment.
I think this is my problem, as discussed with both Jared and Ian, of the modeling job offered by LB. I made some money, had my ego boosted, and walked away with the knowledge that that act, of putting oneself out there solely as an object, completely disenfranchised from ones actual, internal self.. is something that I neither wanted to do again, or for a living.
I'm not ugly. But walking to school, going to the grocery store, sitting having coffee, those are actions whereby my aesthetics are not part of the equation. Wherever I go, my face, my body, my breasts, they go with me, as a necessary (but not sufficient) indication of WHO I AM, and in this world, how WHO I AM can exist. I have that choice, by what I wear, by my posture, my demeanor, to make my physical case simply that - a physical case, which is simply a degrading and disappearing collection of atoms, chemicals, acids, bases and electrical pulses. But that is the choice - to make what is a (sometimes) unfortunate necessary condition solely necessary and not.. not everything.
To be out in the open, to have my body, my face, regarded as a sufficient indicator of that WHICH I AM, that somebody would see me again and know me as that body, that necessary condition, and to conflate that which is necessary with the belief that the necessary is also the sufficient - chokes me. To think that I would be critques solely on that container that holds who I am - scares me. To borrow from Butler - eventually you start to be what others think you are, by that being suggested so many times. Whether you like it or not. Some part of me is the person who is ashamed and upset when I get "hey baby"d, some part of me is proud, some part of me has learned to use that to my advantage...
But for that, for my body, to be the sufficient condition for identifying me? To be known...by that?
Fucking philosophy. I'm actually poor by moral choice at this moment.
3 comments:
A husk is a husk.
You, Ms P, are traditionally beautiful; I say so.
But...
I value what is inside that husk.
I always thought fashion was about the clothes, not the girl in them. ;-) Whenever I've been at a fashion show, in any case, I've never cared much to critique the girl, or even give a her much more than a passing thought. She's a walking/breathing mannequin at that point. I'm actually usually thinking "that looks really uncomfortable and/or stupid".
But I'm pickin' up what you're Putin down. I'm just more evolved than your average viewer of scantily clad women, I guess.
Oh yeah, and Heidegger was a boozy beggar who caould drink you under the table...while Kant was a real pissant who was very rarely able.
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