Look with your eyes, not with your hands.


Such a minute fraction of this life do we live: so much is sleep, tooth-brushing, waiting for mail, for metamorphosis, for those sudden moments of incandescence: unexpected, but once one knows them, one can live life in the light of their past and the hope of their future.



A grad student muses on her life, film, friends, politics, reality televizzle, and music.

 
C'mon Get Happy or Touche, O'Shea

Mondays are the new Sunday. Since I have one class on Mondays and it happens to be over before 9am, I am left with that extra putz around day that is traditionally for nothing more than dreading the rest of the week, maybe taking a long dinner, or squeezing in an extra nap. Just the same, it's all about fighting the feeling that I forgot to go to class or something else important. Approaching 9pm, I feel like I have spent an incredible amount of time in my actual room today, more than I have in months or more than I should have... but it's chilly chilly outside - one of those clear expansive vista days when the photographers on campus to take viewbook photos. Peak leaves are right now and it's so amazing... there's a handsome red maple outside of my window and it's the perfect thing to look at in my room, cuddled up in a blankey with the heater on 7.

This afternoon, I caught up on a lot of my presidency reading, including a book by my professor. I was impressed, he's a very clear writer and has a strong and easy to follow argument. Still pending tonight, the remaining Gospel I haven't read (Luke is up) and Book 7 of the Republic that has been bounced three tutorials in a row. We're apparently finishing that this week and getting onto Aristotle soon. I was having a conversation about that this weekend and that I prefer A to P. Maybe it has something to do with which you read first and then the impression is too deep to change... or whether you think a one-sided conversation written as a passive dialogue is more convincing than a well argued and logically arranged treatise. The only reservation I hold is that the activity itself, building a city in speech is pretty damn amazing. Midterms are next week - where does the time go - I still don't think I am really into my classes so I guess I'll probably coast through to December. It's sad actually, but this time last year I felt like I was making great strides and getting a grasp on architecture nevermind themes of post-modernity. Now I've taken four steps backward and I am back to writing stupid 1-page papers about moves like Chocolat and Life of Brian, doing what I have to for Presidency, ignoring Urban planning reading, and slowly going through the Republic 3 pages at a time w/ Nelson.

Planned my Thanksgiving today - hitting Scotland (with Dan and Jeremy for a day) up until Wednesday and heading home for Dad's world-famous turkey feast. I'll tell you this much, Jasinskis know how to eat, this is serious business. Hopefully I can get a little rest and it's probably good to catch up with the extended fam as well as the 'rents. We're up to date on all of our paperwork, this feels like a first, not to be drowning in debate red tape, it feels productive and that's important in my book. We're at a surprisingly apolitical moment: we'll see how long the ravenous dogs sleep. Looking ahead, prompted by an old canadian debate friend (nothing old about him except that my knowing him goes back 3 or so years) I realized that McGill will be my last debate tournament ever - the weekend before I gradumacate. Rumor has it that Gustafson will be breezing back into the States from Siberia to rally the troops and give us an advantage in the pride war with Bates and the wall-mounted breathalizer.

Got this very slick Italian design catalogue in the mail today, Chia'sso. I felt ultra-sophisticaed to be on this mailing list. It essentially has the same inventory as the MoMA design store, another wish-list present depot.

On the subject of fancy do-das and New York - caught up with Justin last night. Over the weekend I missed his call asking for directions for my voyeurism bar, the remote lounge. In lieu of engaging in passive acts of voyeurism and exhibitionism, he instead went to some drag queen restuarant where someone arranged a lapdance (and by lapdance I mean that Justin was stripped to his boxers) by a 6' black man / drag queen... apparently there are pictures. But more of a kodak moment... the day after the lap dance and big apple debaucherie, Justin went to meet an Argentine friend in Grand Central. Apparently he couldn't find the bathroom and puked into a trashcan while 12 or 13 German tourists just stood around watching. The best thing is, the one place on earth where this kind of behavior is remotely acceptable is Grand Central or maybe Oktoberfest. So I guess the Germans wouldn't be too uber-grossed out. This amused me.

There's a performance of the Peking Opera on campus on friday, I think I'll check that out. I need to do something interesting and cultural. Perhaps I'll have time to see a movie and I've already decided to have an old and new party on Saturday - introduce the alums to the new class of kids, introduce friends who were abroad at different times. hell, maybe I'll make an invitation or something.
posted by lmjasinski at 8:25 PM