Thursday, November 27, 2003

Social anthropology has robbed me of my ability to see the world sans stealth and subterfuge. Just back from another movie and all I can reflect on is incomplete frames. As we pontificated in class today, representations are important not for what they say but what they leave unsaid.

And I have to do a paper that situates my project and life experience and goals within the boundaries of this science, this culture, this artifice. What do I say? That I do not see much meaning in doing anything except for that which helps me wade through endless, precious, wasteful time? That in navigating this constant search for meaning, I all but lose control of the idea of being in control? That the idea of making sense is invested with modernity and doesn't excacty make sense?

Derrida says that every answer corrupts the question. I, it seems, am irretrievably corrupted.