Dead Bodies

I went to an exhibition of dead bodies at the weekend….It was called Body Works and was in Manchester. 

The dead bodies were a bit disappointing they had undergone Plastination(*) which was very impressive technically but ment that they didn’t look real- they looked plastic.I obviously wasn’t expecting rotting flesh and maggots but I expected them to look slightly more fleshy.  I’ve seen a dead body once before- it was on a fun run, I somehow got lost  and a drowned man was pulled out of the river- he was all bloated and weird…. The lack of rotting flesh aside the exhibition was fascinating…I realised I have very little idea about anatomy and it was really interesting to see how the bodies all fitted together. It was also interesting to see what happened when people had a stroke etc. There was so much information that I couldn’t take it all in and have bought the book to read at home.

The positioning of the bodies was also interesting- it was more than a museum exhibition; more like art with the bodies placed in positions of people who are doing things (playing tennis, swimming etc). Some were placed to be reminiscent of artistic works (for example one was dissecting another) . It was quite stunning and grotesquely fascinating.

As well as the information about bodies there was a second stream of information; about previous attitudes to death and bodies so there was pictures of body theatre’s (dissection theatre’s) and a discussion of the symbolism around those. The exhibition was very popular so it wasn’t really possible to go out and back in which was a shame as I wanted to take it all in.

A subsection of the exhibition looked at human development- which was basically fetuses. I was amazed by how quickly a collection of cells turns into a human shape. I was also amazed by how damn predictable people were…I saw several approach the 24 week one and say..oh this is the legal limit for abortion….and seem shocked. the basic argument seems to be…but it looks so cute- it must be wrong. It did look like a baby but a have a feeling there is more to the argument than cuteness.

The exhibition was in Manchester, my dad really wanted to see it as he has just done an MA in death studies and is thinking of becoming a grief councillor. He lives in Bath and we went up to my mums house in Manchester to see it. Its really weird having both of them together. They get on so well its like two old friends with soo much to catch up on. I tend to feel like I’m disappearing…

(*)Plastination is the process of extracting all bodily fluids and soluble fat from specimens and replacing them with vacuum forced impregnation with reactive resins and elastometers, such as rubber, silicon and epoxy. The specimen is then cured with light, heat or certain gases, which give it rigidity and permanence.

Amazing coincidence of syncrinization…

Yesterday I learnt something interesting about myself….when I do things randomly I repeat patterns.

Yesterday went to the Tate Modern in London. I went to a meeting- it finished early I thought I’ll go and see a few paintings… As always when I go to the Tate they were between exhibitions in the Turbine hall…as always I was overwhelmed by the scale etc I aimless went to the third floor…took a left and found myself in the USB Openings gallery..I wondered around a bit before being grabbed by something. A Kandinsky…I love Kandinsky prob my favourite artist. Next I saw a Pollock- this was really interesting as I’ve never seen one before. I’ve seen postcards and Pollockesq works but not an actual Pollock. I’ve always thought he was a bit…crap. But seeing the real thing was different- I thought there is something here. I even read the little plaque and learnt about fractuals…and I could see what they ment there was a pattern to his work.

I saw a Rothoko, then a Monet..as I looked at the Monet I was amazed by how different that was from the calendars etc, how much more depth of feeling and how it was a picture of a day as much of Lilliies. The calenders etc tend to show the lillies much more distinctly and so lose some of the rest. I was getting a bit of a feeling of Deja vue at this point…

Then I went into the Rothoko room and was stunned- it took my breath away it was so deep and dark and brooding…I want to lie on the floor and brood…Obviously I didn’t I thought it might upset the Japenese tourists…

Anyway I read the sign outside the Rothoko room, how it had originally been painted for a restaurant but hadn’t really been suitable…and I realised that this was more than deja vue. I had actually been to the same gallery, been grabbed my the same paintings and thought the same thoughts before…

Apart from the Pollock. I hadn’t seen that. 

What kind of sister?

In the ongoing saga of my brothers relationship breakdown I’ve found myself wondering what sort of sister am I? Do I pledge my loyality to the family relationship to the girlfriend as a woman….

My brother and the girlfriend lived around 2 miles from my parents home in a northern city, he had a good job, she had a baby, he was happy, she was miserable. Her mum lives around 250 miles away in the southwest in a little wooden house on the edge of a river….The girlfriend asks the brother to move down there and give their baby a different life. He agrees- he wants them all to be happy. They rent out their home and move next door to the mother-in-law; and conviently next door to the grandmother-in-law. My brother gets a new job- the girlfriend is still miserable. She ends the relationship and moves back to northern city leaving him heartbroken, without his baby, living in between his ex inlaws. On top of the heartbrake of the relationship ending he feels she took him 250 miles to dump him.  

She now wants her equity from the family home and arguments break out about how much this is; he desperately wants to keep the house as he feels he’s lost everything else. So as his sister I can see that she shouldn’t have the equity; legally he put the cash in and now gets the house. However as the other sort of sister I feel great sympathy for her- she was the homemaker;looked after the child and spent any money she had on food, nappies etc. So should she now lose out?

As the argument drags on it looks more likely that lawyers will be involved and the discussion is ended- they get any cash available!

More on the pregnant man…

I can’t get this out of my head….

My first thought #(not the one I want to stick with so bare with me) is that it wrong. Men can’t have children; changing sex then having children is….cheating. The single thing that has most defined my experience of being a woman is having children therefore somebody who is a man cannot bear children…its not part of the package. However when I examine this more closely I can see some fundamental flaws in this logic. If I couldn’t have children would I still be a woman? If I was sterilised would I still be a woman? If I choose not to bear children am I still a woman? Clearly I am therefore its not that thats the crux of being a woman….and so can’t be the crux of being a man either. Which leads me to the question- what is the difference between men and women? When my son asked me this I said it was the penis and that was all that mattered and so if he wanted to dress as a fairy (wings, skirts, a wand) then he damn well could. Since then I’ve become friends with somebody who claims to be trans and so doesn’t have a penis (I haven’t checked!) and he so clearly is a man that I’m begining to think this might not be it either…I also read about somebody who lost their’s and it would seem wrong to deny their sex on these grounds; what about sterilisation is a non-functioning penise as good as the other sort in determining sex?

Which brings me to a childhood joke; If a stool with four legs wobbles what do you do? If a stool with three legs wobbles what do you do? both sexes answer put some paper under the leg to the first; women give the same answer to the second however males  answer 3 legged stools can’t wobble. This seems to work remarkably well with the added bonus that both sexes feel their answer is superior…women for their practicality, men for their logic…But then does that take us to a socially constructed view of sexuality?

Pregnant Man

http://doctorz.wordpress.com/2008/03/30/on-the-pregnant-man-story/ I read this blog, which is a thoughtful, informed view on the subject. It did however lead me to some less thoughtful less well informed thoughts….Firstly antenatal classes would have been a lot more fun if there was a pregnant man there….it was all so worthy with the men sidelined and desperate to say the right thing…And woman at their most motherly; I’m sure that if a pregnant man had been there the possibility that men may be involved in this parenting malaky may have to have been considered. At one point a we were divided into male and female groups so that we could ‘honestly’ say what we most feared…the acceptable male answer was ’seeing my wife in pain’ . One man answered ’stretch marks- ultimate turnoff’; which as I didn’t have to live with him struck me as the one moment of geniune humour in the whole course.Although now I think about it- I was also very amused when the midwife told my husband he’d have to help more around the house- possibly learn how to make his own breakfast. I’m not sure people who can’t put cereal in a bowl and add milk should be allowed to breed.Secondly I was reminded of how many people have some sort of assisted conceptions- at an NCT meeting I was shocked to find that mine was the only entirely naturally occurring pregnancy…It seems half of us are desperately trying not to get pregnant whilst the other half are trying to. As for men getting pregnant- bring it on I say! Its not much fun…. 

Natures Bounty

Things are getting going in the garden; last week on my birthday the hens obligingly began to lay so we know have lovely fresh eggs in the morning….lots of lovely fresh eggs…around 3 a day…This fills me with a mixture of joy and horror…joy at natures bounty and horror at all the eggs…I’m not sure my partner likes eggs and I’m uncertain of how many egg based recipes I can slip in before my son notices…I’m not even sure how much I like eggs…This sudden profusion of eggs led me to thinking about spring and I noticed with delight (and horror) that the plum tree is in blossom, this can only mean one thing; its getting closer to plum season. The garden will fill with plums- well they might be plums- could be damsons I can’t really say one way or the other- before the plum tree I never really thought about plums, I certainly don’t think I ever bought them. I don’t mind plums as a fruit but between the toes as you accidentally slip is most unpleasant. My partner also has the habit of coming up behind me and romantically slipping one in my mouth, very sweet the first time, but last season I did find myself edging away from him at likely looking moments when my palate wasn’t thinking, ‘oh I know plums’.This year I intend to share the burden (I mean bounty) so soon our neighbours will also be full of eggs and  plums (or damsons).

Birthdays

 ! I’m no longer in my early 30s. This week I turned 34, I’m not sure how I feel about this. Turning 30 was good- I was on a high I was looking good, fab job,  great partner, lovely son and a house that was big enough to feel like an achievement…whats changed?? Not much…same job, same partner, same house…I’m a little fatter (size UK 14 so not exactly obese!)…I just don’t feel that things have moved on…and yet there is nothing I really want to change…What can I say?? I should be grateful- its just a likely strange to have achieved my life plan by 30. I kind of feel I have some time left over… The Birthday itself was lovely- thoughtful presents from those I love (well my son gave me a pink skipping rope but he chose it very careful). My partner took me to the theatre and to my favourite restaurant. The restaurant was amazing- its the Ikon in Birmingham; it serves authentic Catalan tapas and is one of the most interesting places I’ve been for vegetarian food…The theatre was very good but not gripping. We went to see the Lady from the Sea (Ibsen) it seemed to be very well done but a slightly odd play. Well almost 2 plays its the story of a family and the daughters are going through a very conventional life stuck out in the middle of nowhere waiting for husbands to rescue them….whilst the step mother loses her mind. She has fallen ion love with somebody other than the husband, somebody who represents the freedom of the sea (possibly a drowned man). She cannot rest- eventually he comes for her and her husband releases her to go with him…once given a choice that allows her to exercises her own free will she choses her husband and children and the much smaller world…The set was amazing operating on a number of levels and with real water and flowers, using reflections to create a sense of space…A little hard work with 1 eye….It did make me long for the sea….

My husband is perfect…

Its driving me crazy.I know that really I shouldn’t hold this against him but my husband is perfect. He shares the household chores (OK he does most of them), he’s the one who remembers to clean the sink and loads the dishwasher. He cooks sometimes and takes an equal responsibility for the childcare. If my son is ill then the school should phone the husband….However the thing that annoys me is that everybody tells me how damn wonderful he is!! If a woman were to do the same then nobody would mention it.  When I was studying accountancy people would ask me what the husband did whilst I was studied (to which I was always tempted to answer wank); when I have to stay over night for work people ask me where my son is (tied to the radiator) and seem to think that at home with his dad is a surprising answer…The school don’t phone the husband- however explicit my instructions…

Killing me with kindness

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/feb/27/worklifebalance

This article shows that woman who have babies often ‘waste’ their talents and move down the career lader. They ‘chose’ jobs that allow them to put their childcarre responsibilities first.  Quelle suprise….do we need studies to tell us this? 

 when i had my son I was a recently quaified accountant; I had asked my boss what i could do whilst on maternity leave to stay uptodate- he’d replied that I was going to be busy enough and we’d worry about it when I got back. When I returned from maternity leave I found that I was given a ‘light’workoad with little responsibility. This was an act of consideration…had I stayed I would have found that as I hadn’t done certain things I wouldn’t get promoted…however I wasn’t going to bwe given the opportunity to do anything.

I left. And took up a more demanding and rewarding job. I didn’t tell them I had a child at the interview….

I’m not a mother!!

It was Mothers Day on Sunday. My son made me a mothers day card at school and was delighted to give it to me. He also presented me with random stuff throughout the day (half a biscuit, a stone, a pine cone). I thought this was quite sweet.

 some friends of mine sent me text messages wishing me happy mothers day…somehow I found this disturbing and it made me want to shout I AM NOT A MUM!! Nobody texted me on my annual performance review day….

More disturbingly when my son was little (6 months) people kept asking me what my husband would get me for mothers day…to which I wanted to shout I’M NOT HIS MUM!! Luckily my husband knows this and got me nothing thus avoiding years of recrimination…