the female gaze

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.



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"The story of your life is not your life, it's your story" -- John Barth
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Monday, August 04, 2003
 
Anxiety

This might be triggered by my overtiredness or the oppressive humidity outside, but I think tonight is the first night when the grad school nerves are kicking into overdrive. I remain conversationally confident, but tonight I spent some QT with the old palm pilot (all thanks to this external keyboard I invested in) updating my contacts and more importantly, putting this fall schedule into place and blocking off some times. It's a little frightening to see my time committed to a place I've only visited and to a cause I've only talked about for months, but this is the first taste of what is to come. I am already dreading a week-solid with meetings when I arrive. When I visited Madison I was worn out after three days, I have no idea what kind of toll a whole week would have on me. I had very good intentions to finally take a stab at re-ordering my cargo in my bedroom, but again, distractions got the better of me and I continue to live in squalor and complete disorganization.

When the future is too much, nothing like hiding in the comforts of the past. I think I've used my cell phone and trusty email finger more today than I did the entire month of July. This is a good thing except for the fact that I load up like a camel with gossip, updates, and laughs and then starve myself for months and that is generally a pretty stupid idea. Suddenly, already, it's after 11am and I don't feel like I accomplished very much after a long Gap shift and a generally lazy night at home.