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.

 
A Midweek Weekend

Every now and again, it's important to treat an off Tuesday as a found Saturday, which is exactly what I did yesterday. I've made a promise to myself to feel less burdened and overwhelmed with lecture planning. This week I adopted a loose and open look at what might be called postmodernism in some intellectual circles, but what I call, for the purposes of clarity and appealing to my class - "A Conversation between old Hollywood and today." Anyway, it's made my prep a lot easier. Yesterday it was a real joy to discuss storytelling models - from traditional structures in a movie like Jerry Maguire, and then more problematic examples like Adaptation and Lost in Translation. I was able to write up my notes in the morning and it was real breeze. Today I talked about the melodrama, in particular, I had them watch Todd Haynes' Far From Heaven and talked about Douglas Sirk 1950s melodramas today. It was interesting... and I think a nice jumping off point for tomorrow's talk about Almodovar's recent gem Talk to Her.

Just the same, yesterday was like a Saturday. I had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon (I am Factor 5 positive, if you wanted to know - a genetic condition my father has and leaves me more susceptible to getting blood clots). Afterward, Patrick and I went first to Borders and then to see the surprisingly funny and very enjoyable Mean Girls at the Budget Theater. It's hard not to, but I got my $2 worth. Then we came home, made dinner and played a rousing game of Upwords. We, rather he, embarked on an unusually ambitious menu on Monday, making a full ensemble from the Bombay Cafe, imagine Indian / California fusion - but a dairy-lover's delight of a creamy tomato curry sauce over chicken, Indian potato pancakes and restaurant-bought nan. Things have been to crazy lately to do much cooking, but it was nice to make a big mess and enjoy a homecooked treat.

Last night, and while I am in part embarrassed and ashamed to admit that I watched this instead of the DNC, Amazing Race was pretty damn good. One slight complaint, as is typical of the show, is that it really makes you angry that they highlight the impatient, childish shortcomings of Americans on this show. Last night the teams traveled from Argentina to St. Petersburg Russia. When they arrived in the snowy post-Soviet town, among other tasks, one member of each team had to sit down and eat a giant bowl, almost 2 1/2 lbs, of black caviar. Some of the girls, namely the two Texas beauty queens were alternatingly crying or writhing around the floor in extreme discomfort. Granted that a kilo is a lot of the salty slime to choke down, but these girls did very little to break a stereotype that Americans survive solely on diet coke, pizza and ranch dressing. For the record, the gracious Little People's Ambassador, Charla, did exceptionally well, gobbling down the black delicacy without much lip. Despite the overtly xenophobic ramifications, it's hard not to agree that during the summer, Amazing Race makes the world a better place to rest one's bags.

Tonight Patrick and I are cooking up some squash & shrimp risotto (brilliant pairing - or terrible combination?) and then laying low, I expect. Tomorrow night though, one of my most favoritest bands, The Walkmen, are coming to town and I am in the midst of rousing a jovial posse of hip youngsters to accompany me to this louder than life rock show.
posted by lmjasinski at 3:14 PM