Updated: Nov 15
Welcome to my brain in the am. Not the prettiest of places, and the adrenal glands fucked so it smells in here. Oh well. Enjoy the sleep-deprived ravings o(f/n delete_as_applicable) an egotistical megalomaniac. I feel like Jack Sparrow. Sanity is cool kids :)))))). Anyways. Let us return. Egotistical Megalomaniac : WOMEN edition. Starring role of most genius biopics (geniuopics? geniuOPTICs? fuck I should never do drugs) goes to the brooding male protagonist with his quaint little idiosyncrasies, general twattery and the reified sense of the sublime. We have ear-cut-offery, turtlenecks and Yeezus.
These sorts of nonsenses require an innocence. Of course, geniuses lives suck. We know this. Heartbreakingly, for all the lovely stepford home bound, Russell Group educated, regular recipients of the Bank of Mum and Dad out there, the potential we had for genius is quashed out under the torpor of our comfort, stupi(d)fied by all the shiny shiny shiny niceness we had. Geniuses lives are, on the whole, shit. It's why they eke out quite so many movies (generally dude writes books and sits in lab isn't the most compelling premise for a film), and it's said to be the source of greatness. No one is asserting that they are innocent just that they have an innocence.
But the fundamental key is that for all these man geniui alumni is that the suffering is something external. it is something they can operationalise, measure, fit. it's something that can be taken, outside, and arranged, inside, in the head. There is a dichotomy between the nastiness and the object that perceives it, a barrier. what happens when that dichotomy is blurred? when the nastiness is very much within you and was within you and the sanctity of the self is violated? all of a sudden that innocence is lost, and no matter what, things are never just outside, they can never just be the play of the mind because they are in the mind and that delicate delicate taking of the world and merging it and moulding it and fitting it as a play thing in the mind is gone because it can never just be play because world is within mind, has broken through the barrier and exists and is there. and this violation was law, this violation was norm, this violation still is and is and is and it's a weight that trails and lags and pulls and we wonder why women can't break glass ceilings when they trail this nastiness from their ankles, tendrils that anchor them and lock them and keep reality so painfully painfully immediate.
and that is where lie the female geniuses.