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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Sunday, February 15, 2004
 
Compromise

From here on out, my body and I need to make better deals. For example, some force should have intervened and not allowed me to drink many drinks, eat a disgusting burrito made of "circus animal" at an all-night Mexicali restaurant, and awake this morning to eat a very indulgent New York-style brunch. Someone has to draw the line here.

I ended up really enjoying myself last night. Usually I am quite the social butterfly in a group, but I spent most of last night chatting politics with my production teacher... The Deanie Boppers never showed up (the primary is so close, I was only half expecting to see them), but there was a very nice showing from the department. It was a lot of birthday to stomach, but I enjoyed myself and had an even better time than expected. Today I am feeling a little sluggish - and it's already 3pm and I am still pale-faced hungover and somewhat indifferent and lethargic. I might need a nap before I tackle my theory reading - eh, I am getting too old for this... and I spent too long indulging myself in imagining how much more fun and carefree my life would be if I made slightly different choices and pursued a non-academic, monastic life... ah, the brunches, the beverages, the movies, and the purely vacuous enjoyment of not doing anything at all on the weekends, sigh - an ode to a road not taken.