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.



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


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"The story of your life is not your life, it's your story" -- John Barth
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Saturday, November 08, 2003
 
After the Fact

Like most academics, I clearly have some inklings of mania. I am just reading over that post (that I wrote last night) and don't quite know how I managed to turn that out, finish a large chunk of reading, and get a very good start on my documentary paper...

Nevermind that was only the start of my night. Around 11:30 I met up with some friends and went to one of the worst parties ever - a mixer for my TA-Union. The only thing to do was chug cheap keg beer and try not to watch a bunch of clumsy grad students (all of whom needed haircuts, better shoes, acne medicine, and a tae bo tape) rock out to "La Bamba." It was truly horrifying. This is a group I never want to self-identify with. Anyway, that was terrible, so I stuck close to my security blanket of film friends and ended the night at the Tornado Room. It was a very chilly night. And as I learned when I finally got home, the heat definitely works in my apartment - almost too well.

Already it's been a productive day - had my ritual Saturday morning gab fest with Jack, had my watch battery replaced, and was pleased to find that someone returned Sherman's Marchand I rented All About Eve for a case study in my narrative theory paper. I brought my books / resources to "the room" and I hope to tap into that manic well of energy and chip away at the research paper some more.