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, October 19, 2004
 
I am in a fog and I have no one to blame but the Yankees. Even I have fallen under the spell of this incredibly addictive and exciting - constant sudden death series. While I usually don't care too much about baseball, I've become a solid Yank in the past few days. New York has a much classier franchise than those long-haired Frat Boy stoner Sox. I wish I could look away, but I am completely sucked in and want to see the Yankees mop the floor with the Beantown Brats. Reverse the curse - ha!

There seems to be some mean cosmic forces at play on my body this week - and it's not just me. Many of my friends have complained about sleeping poorly or having extra-vivid dreams. Just the same, I feel tired and less than sharp. I hope this blows over soon.

I have lots of grading to do, but I hope to get this batch done tonight (my students take an exam tomorrow, so that means MORE grading). It just never ends. The good news is that my advisor's wife had a healthy baby on Sunday and as a result, he understandably cancelled class, but it's a welcome reprieve.

My family finalized our Xmas present this week. My family (+ the boyfriends) are all headed to Disneyworld in chilly January. It should be great fun - I am especially excited for this new fancy Safari that Disney opened recently. I am already itching for sunshine and Mickey Mouse. But alas, January still seems very far off.