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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Wednesday, June 23, 2004
 
I am home on my lunchbreak from the office job and enjoying a big bowl of mac'n'cheesypeas. Its a rainy boring day and it's very hard to get back in that 8hr-day-swing when you lead a listless life.

The weekend was good but went by entirely too fast. Kristin's whirlwind three day visit was a blur of pounding the pavement and some powershopping in Chicago. Instead of the contemporary museum, we went to the Teller Museum to see a show of American artists in Paris in the 1930s... but otherwise, I mentioned everything else. For her birthday, I rounded up 6 of my funnest Madison friends and we went out for tasty italian food and then out to a bar afterward. We had good weather and as usual, had a good time together. I wish she could have stayed longer, but she's coming back with my parents in August to help with the big move.

My sister left early on Sunday - and Patrick and I spent the afternoon at the movies. Because our morals diverge, I paid for one ticket and he for two and we saw The Terminal and Saved! Although the former has much improved production values, I actually liked the second one better because the story seemed to work better and it was more formulaic. The Terminal lost me in parts because the story just doesn't hold up, it drops sub-plots, Catherine and Tom have zero on screen chemistry, and it's one shameless product placement shot after another. Saved, on the other hand, while hardly Macaulay Culkin's triumphant screen comeback, is funny, has a clever soundtrack, and while being a bit predictable, pokes needed fun at crazy Christian youth culture in this country. It ends with kind of a moralistic message and I think that even Jesus-zealots will like this one that does a clever job of never spoofing the aim of its satire.

Last night Patrick and I hosted a wine, cheese, and tapas party. He really out did himself with a very full menu and diverse of mediterranean tapas and picking very strong, but good cheeses. Our guests, mostly his friends and older dissertators in the film department, brought the wine and everyone seemed to have a very good time. I'd call it a success and we're sure to be eating leftovers in omelets and the flourless chocolate cake for at least one more day.

My senior citizens teaching gig starts tomorrow and I have my work cut out for me. I'd like to have an overview handout prepared and I need to decide on my clips as well as throw together some kind of introductory lecture. Thankfully, I teach only the one day this week and then begin a four-day week next week. I still really don't know what to expect until I show up and see it for myself, but I'll try to cover my bases and spend my evening ironing out the wrinkles in Hollywood Cinema.... fun.