V-Day<\/a> and for five years, i spent this season preparing a production of “The Vagina Monologues” in some form or another. I was able to turn the corporate V-Day on its head and use the time to really think through masculinist hegemony. I was able to work with battered women, with women who had gone under the knife, with women fighting for their freedom. I was able to work towards my dream state of a life without violence. This is the first season that i’m not attending a V-Day and it makes me truly sad. Unfortunately, my only excuse is my current state of hibernation and need to work.<\/p>\nThis morning, i awoke to NPR as always. I should’ve known better because there’s nothing like a Valentine’s Day special to make me dive deeper under the covers. But there was something disturbing about it that me unable to turn it off. The discussants each wrote a book about a different psychological \/ neurological aspect of ‘love’. I love science and i love scientific analyses of emotional states, but now the attack of my dream state was coming in two directions – attack on my fantasy and attack on my sleep explicitly.<\/p>\n
It’s funny – i definitely believe in the pursuit of knowledge and i definitely realize that much of my fantasies are complete social constructions. But i don’t want to give them up to the sterility of science even though i love science. I don’t actually want to be rational about everything – i want passion (however hormonally manifested) to drive me in at least some ways. Instead, my day began with the nice scientists telling me that falling in love is simply a rush of hormones and love is simply the state you reach when two people have managed to balance each other’s hormones in a positively cyclical fashion. I don’t want to think<\/i> about the hormones – i want to feel<\/i> them. So, instead, i buried deeper into the covers.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I have never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. My resentment began in middle school when i was forced to get those awful miniature cards and craft an individual one for everyone in my class. Nothing helps me detest a holiday more than forced gifting and cards are the ultimate worst. As i grew older, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_s2mail":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1436","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reflections-rants"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1436","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1436"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1436\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1436"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1436"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.zephoria.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1436"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}