thoughts from last night’s burlesque show
to be clear, i was watching the show, not on stage. but it was my first burlesque.
- burlesque is so voyeuristic, but these women on stage were in charge of how they were being sexualized. most were not what the media’s dominant voice considers sexy, either: middle-aged, overweight women who were loving themselves.
- I’ve spent a large part of my life thinking i take too much space. this is dumb, because i’m barely 5 foot on a good day and have a healthy BMI. but last night, i thought, “god i’m too skinny.”
- later i went to a bar to go dancing. please note: when i dance, i don’t go to meet men. i just enjoy dancing and, moreover, dancing like an idiot to have fun with my friends. “you’re a pretty girl, but you naaasty,” said some guy as i checked my email on my phone.
- standing in line for the ladies’ room, bladder about to burst, and again, trying to mind my own business. this guy comes up to me. “hey girl, what you doin’?” so i replied “waiting to piss, obviously. sexy, i know.” i punctuated my words with sarcasm so even his his drunk state he would get it. he was taken aback: “stuck up bitch,” he called me. the woman waiting next to me rolled her eyes and gave me a high five.
the way men think they can talk to women, the way they think our worth is predicated entirely on how we respond to them; it makes me livid. but the way women internalize it? (like, when i’m judging my weight based on what is considered “sexy”), that’s just saddening.
GIRLS has this super weird upper-class way of romanticizing a struggling writer’s lifestyle and it pisses me off.
Okay but some of us have to work full time to scrape by on paying the bills. That means only having enough money to eat bread and butter for the last half of the month because my parents aren’t paying off my student loans for me. That also means only having enough time to write a few hours in the evening in my apartment because GUESS WHAT coffeeshops are too expensive.
Rich kid writers are the worst type of people. There’s nothing romantic or noble or epic or even poetic about writers who simply work hard.
"Don’t romanticise your ‘vocation’. You can either write good sentences or you can’t. There is no ‘writer’s lifestyle’. All that matters is what you leave on the page." - Zadie Smith
the art of selfie portraiture y’all
good things are happening in 2014 already
looking for people to follow on twitter to make my feed more interesting, and not just filled with the same whining about shitty customer service from high school classmates with whom i’ve long lost touch. my twitter handle is @kasiakovacs. what’s yours?
bell hooks took to twitter to ask her followers to post selfies with her books (and not that it matters, but she retweeted mine), so yes yes yes, bell hooks is everything
quel rat! (a real phony)
I sort of meant for it to be a comparative analysis between the book and the movie, and it very loosely is, but it accidentally ended up being a bit personal as well. Quel dommage.
Anyway, I’ve been writing a lot lately, and you should read it if you’d like.
2014 is already off to a stellar start. Last night was lovely, then this morning I slept until 9:30 a.m., turned in my first grad school application, spent all day writing (except for the people watching bits in Barnes and Noble), and I just burst open into a million different pieces because I’m so proud of my best friend.
Now off to watch Sherlock, bed, and tomorrow is back to teaching. Good break, but I’m already settled in my typical werk-oholic rhythm. And happy about it.
I just got asked out to dinner by a married man who had previously been talking to me about his two children and wife’s boob job so apparently I give off mistress vibes and that’s pretty coo
on being a twenty-two year old teacher
One of those nights. God I miss Cambridge.