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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Tuesday, April 20, 2004
 
Me and My One-Track Mind...

Not much has changed on my insular cloud nine of couplehood... spring seems to be hiding again behind wind and chilly nights. Yesterday was a doosey of a day - one of the marathon 12-hour Mondays I am known to have from time to time, with some added (unnecessary) administrative and bureaucratic elements. I went out afterward and it rapidly became a two-bottle of wine night and rest of the evening just sort of slipped away. I've been grading like a fiend, but it doesn't let up - my students took another midterm yesterday and are handing in more papers on Wednesday. I realize that I should have some apprehension about the end of the semester deadlines that are rapidly approaching, but for some reason, I have this false sense of security that May is still a long way off.

Already excited for not working all weekend... Patrick, the new beau, and I are going to see a show of Rembrandt etchings in Chicago and then we're taking an architecture walking tour. I think it'll be a very nice day (weather cooperating) and it's the kind of thing I'd really rather be doing all the time instead of slaving away on papers that seem very remote from anything I am actually interested in (Eisenstein & Bazin on acting) or even finishing my CA 355 final project... but alas, there are more things in life that we have to do compared to the things we like to do.

I refuse to spend another day stuck in my office... I am going to go and try to finish grading my midterms at home and if I am really lucky, dust off my mediocre French reading skills and translate an article from Cahiers du Cinema. Later Patrick is coming over to cook dinner and I am thrilled because he knows his way around the kitchen and this means one less night of eating a morningstar farms product.