January 26th, INVASION

My own apartment is becoming a place of horror. It feels as if my assailant, my imaginary invader, has returned in full force. At times I think I hear him, outside my door, in the walls. I keep the curtains shut, terrified of facing him if I were to peek outside, despite my residence at a higher floor.

Yet, all I can think of are my studies. I am glued to this screen, scrolling, reading, and of course – what more apt to read into than the home invasion genre?

The house, especially in a piece of media, can be thought of as a representation of as an extension of a character’s body (McMahon, 2014). It is filled with objects which belong to us and our memories of them, and they too can be considered an extension of our own bodies This links back to my discussion the other day about Deleuze and the concept of becoming, albeit reversed; in this instance, the objects become us, they embody a part of us.

Thus, when the home is invaded, we are also invaded. A house is a line of defence against the outside world, it separates us from the Other, me from my potential invaders. When this line of defence is broken, there is no longer a place of safety. If I were, for instance, to be attacked in the street, I would (hopefully) be capable of running back home to a place I would be secure.

Our capacity to dwell must be learned through childhood initiations into reality, as a safe upbringing with comfortable grounds. The home does not inherently need to be a house, but a feeling, a place of security that is created through trust and love. (McMahon, 2014)