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.

 
Welcome to the Monkey House

So the zooniness has calmed at 140 Morgan Farms Drive, the Jasinski homestead. It's strange how a few days can dissolve into eating too much, sleeping too much, commericalism at its best (ie. shopping too much) and then Saturday rolls around, the relatives finally take off and I am faced with the premise of getting dressed by 2pm, writing out the 30 obligatory Christmas cards, chipping away on my grad school apps, reading Oakeshott, calling Katie, getting a decent cup of coffee, arranging my arrangements for my Boston sleepover on Sunday night - ick, nothing is appealing on that list. The washing machine drones on, doors open and shut constantly for no productive reason, tv is screaming, my sister is on the phone again, my immediate family remains deaf to the point that shouting is always appropriate across rooms or across the kitchen table... clamour, clamour, clamour. My house is a loud house.
posted by lmjasinski at 12:33 PM