The Pregnant Scholar

 

36 Weeks

That’s right.  This is a blog about the circulation of my body to a certain extent, so why not, right?

I consider myself a fairly rational person with episodes of the dramamtic.  I am in theatre and besides, it’s genetic.  However, pregnancy has made me a sap.  Yes, folks, a complete sap.  I literally hunger for the “heartwarming” which during the holidays is in no short order.  I’ve discovered that pretty much all trailers for sappy holiday flicks make me choke up, trailers that in the past would have made me choke for a different reason.

I’m currently working on a paper for one of my seminar classes.  It is far from sappy.  I’m looking at a 1905 physical culture performance at Madison Square Garden that was considered indecent because the women appeared in union suits, basically flesh colored body leotards.  I’m trying to argue that viewing this performance through the avant garde that Bernarr McFadden, the guy who ran the thing, may have been more cutting edge than he’s given credit for.  I’m particularly looking at how the body was viewed during this time as it was suddenly being dissected in different ways through inventions such as the X-ray and envisioned in different ways because of things lilke the fragmentation of time and the splitting of the atom.  Then using Walter Benjamin I hope to show that McFadden is attempting to wrestle the human body out of its tired old context and convince his audience to look at it a different ways through various techniques.

I’m not trying to bore you here, just to give you a general idea of where my brain is at this point.  It’s thinking analytically and theoretically.

For a soundtrack I decided to play the new Josh Groban holiday CD.  Yes, I like Josh Groban.  I’m a sucker for his voice.  So, put yourself in the previous mindset.  Theory, analysis, bodies in 1905.  Then on comes “I’ll Be Coming Home for Christmas.”  During the song sound bites of messages from mothers and fathers in Iraq and their kids at home for Christmas are played.  “Mommy, we’re wrapping presents and thinking of you.”

My brain departs for a moment to consider how blatantly manipulative this is.  No subtlety whatsoever.  This is awful, I think.

My body however, still madly typing on my paper, has a mind, well two minds, of its own.  I’m not just choked up, but sobbing profusely over my keyboard as I try frantically to continue working through my thought in the paper.  I could just turn the CD off, but that would be admitting defeat.  The harder I fight the tears, the angrier I get at the song, the harder I cry.  Eventually, I have to give up because I can’t see the screen.

People joke about this stuff.  Pregnancy in general is something to be laughed at.  I’m beginning to think this is because, like so many things we laugh at, it’s unbelievably traumatic and utterly absurd at the same time.  Crying, an affective physical response to some sort of feeling, has never been a spontaneous eruption for me.  Something that comes out before my brain has even processed what I’m feeling.  My conclusion is that during pregnancy the brain and the body disconnect.  Suddenly my body is communicating in a language that my brain does not speak.  This also accounts for my recent inability to hold any thought in my head for my than a few seconds, making conversation fun and spotted by my constant lapses in thought train.

I’m really curious to see what kind of writing comes out of this body.  I mean look at it!  Doesn’t it look like my belly button just wants to say what’s going on in there?  If you hear anything from it let me know.  I’d like to know what’s going on.