finally, a web project i can feel good about
Saturday, June 3, 2000 @ 04:50 p.m.
Jocelyn hates June 3rd...
Saturday, June 3, 2000 @ 02:25 p.m.
and the third person!
Jocelyn likes:
Although being the responsible person I am I didn't mix them with perscription drugs. I'm not a big drinker, anyway. It makes me melancholy.
Don't let my flippancy deceive you: I am actually very unhappy. I mourn the loss of a friend.
four years ago: "You know what the worst feeling in the world is? Hating your best friend."
two years ago: "It seems like sometimes he's wonderful, and sometimes he hates me, and I never know how it's gonna be one day or what he's thinking... Chris' indifference makes me feel so off."
one year ago: Mrs. Horwood told us she was leaving the school, Meghan and Chandra (and Nicki and everyone) had a huge fight, my period started, and everything sucked. This is what I wrote:
"FUCK OFF AND DIE!"
And I thought I was having original thoughts.
Historically, June 3rd is not a good day for me, as you can see. Perhaps I shouldn't sweat it.
Perhaps I should stop DOING june 3rds. I should just skip them. But by the time I die in 2058, I will be.... almost two months behind. Consequences for my social and professional lives.
There's a scary thought. According to the deathclock calculations, I have over fifty June 3rds to go. It's certain death. Whose idea was this?
June 3rd is a clever marketing ploy invented by the admen working for some devious brand of antidepressant. Since this is a democracy, I guess there's probably something I can do about it, but I don't know what that would be. Write a letter: a hot, steamy letter! (Not that kind!)
In the words of Lucas from Empire Records: "what's with today, today?"
But then historically speaking, I have few good days.
hi
Friday, June 2, 2000 @ 03:00 p.m.
I shaved my legs for grad, mostly as a gesture of goodwill since my dress is ankle-length.
ruminations on graduations
by Jocelyn
Thursday, June 1, 2000 @ 10:16 p.m.
Jocelyn, less old and less wise (grade 6 graduation)
At my grade six graduation, I sat on top of a set of wall-mounted climbing bars while my friend David tried to coax me down and onto the dance floor (that is the gym floor). I didn't want to dance.
The guy I was completely secretly in love with and had been for two years (two fucking years!) didn't glance at me the whole night. I left early, in tears.
Jocelyn, a little older but wearing a smirk (grade 8 graduation)
I spent my junior high years in Ontario, where junior high consists of grades 7 and 8 and high school begins in grade 9. I attended a very small alternative school, which is why our graduating class consisted of 18 individuals.
At the time of my eighth grade I wasn't in the habit of keeping a daily journal, but this, I thought at the time, was worthy of some kind of rememberance; I wrote it the day afterward and haven't modified it since. I moved a few weeks after the event. In the case of most of my friends mentioned here, it was the last time I ever saw them.
Even when my friends dedicated the song "Angel of the Morning" to me, I didn't dance, although I did walk across the dance floor once. The guy I was not-so-secretly in love with, that's David (a different David from the sixth-grade David), the little shit, went with one of my best friends (and I asked him for her). And I left early. In tears.
I think this explains quite fully my aversion to graduations. But, hey, the third time's the charm-- right? At least I have a chance at graduation euphoria this time around, for a couple reasons. 1, I have the spiffiest shoes, ever. Period. Two, the person that I am not-so-secretly in love with is going to the grad WITH ME, and his grandmother remembers who I am! (joy) And three, I am reasonably confident that I don't have to move next summer.
Roehampton Party Madness
I graduated last night. We rented two party rooms at the Roehampton Hotel, hired a DJ and a caterer and about eight thousand balloons. So we were surrounded by our loved ones, two cakes, eight guys in suits and pounding dance music to celebrate our 'crossroads.'
I had a good time at the ceremony. The speeches were boring (but that's a given), everyone looked splendid, even the teachers and Mrs. ****** were being nice. But then the parents left, just as they'd been told, and the teachers made themselves scarce too. There were about five remaining parents who were chaperones, and eighteen- in actuality twenty, I'll get to that- completely wired kids. Too much Coke, too much Coke! Let the fun begin.
First the two extra kids. We were told explicitly immediate family only, but leave it to Bojana to screw up the whole evening. She invited her two best frinds, who I've met before, Kiko and Stefan. The three of them just waltzed in (Bojana showing a good six inches of stomach) and sat down at a table. But then right after the ceremony Mrs. ****** noticed them and called the police (hate her) and booted the two guys out. Bojana started crying and left the party too- returning a half hour later after the teachers had gone with Kiko and Stefan. She lives in a soap opera.
Right before the ceremony Bojana, Olivia and Kristen were outside having a cigarette when guess who walked by- my parents. So now I'm in trouble. They probably won't say anything, just watch me and get suspicious of every little thing.
Rob and Christie came together. They are going out now and Rob told me he felt like the black sheep at the grad (the only guy with out a tux or at least a suit) but they looked good together. For awhile. But then Rob decided this was a boring party, his solution- to go get high and come back later. Kitty's dad, one of the chaperones, intercepted and the party continued.
Then there was Olivia. As the night wore on she kept getting crazier and crazier, asking everybody if they'd like to sneak into the liquor store with her. When that didn't work she began walking around, stopping to tell every guy she met she was 'sexually frustrated.' She still didn't find anyone to dance with so she gave up.
The Intellectuals were being very good, especially compared to everyone else, all wearing black and rushing around, until Megan and Morgan got into a bit of a- battle of wills. But I'll start at the beginning of that one.
Last month Megan 'asked' David ******* the he graduation*, and he agreed- and ever since she's been bubbling over a lot. They rented a limo and Megan looked really good- she cut her hair and wore as really short dress- and they were having (I think) a really good time. But then Morgan requested 'I'm too sexy' for Dave 'from Megan' and the fun began. Next Megan asked for 'Short, short man'** for Morgan and he got realy mad. Kitty and Olivia played 'Bed Of Roses' by Bon Jovi for Kristen and Kiko (they came to the dance together) and they were the only ones dancing. Kitty and Megan got the DJ to play Angel of The Mprning for me. There were a few other requests and everybody was slow dancing- well, almost.
For one thing I hate dancing. Guys hate dancing with me. But me and Kitty both felt bad for the same reason, I think, that being that no guy ever likes us. We both have dozens of friends who are guys but we are always alone during the slow songs.
So we were outside leaning over the balcony of the hotel, overlooking the parking lot, and wallowing in self-pity.
So I left. I was on my way out with my bag and a couple of people kept on telling me not to leave, but what I told them was true- It won't make any difference. And you know what? I bet no one noticed. I can fool myself but they never missed me.
*Jocelyn's present-day note: the quotation marks around "asked" connote the fact that I ASKED DAVID TO THE GRAD FOR HER, even though I was in love with him myself, hopelessly and stupidly so. Because that is the kind of friend I am. (Of course, no way in hell would I do a thing like that today.)
**penis song.
-
So.
It would seem that grad time is here again. I recognize the nausea and anxiety, the headache. My dress is done, for those who have kindly asked after it for the last three weeks. 24 hours to spare! It's the extent of my grad beautification process. No hairdo, no makeup, no pantyhose (!). So don't expect to see me transformed.
I don't know what I'm going to do.
My male friends have decided to take off partway through the dance, possibly to meet their jr. high buddy, who got ditched by his cheerleader girlfriend. My female friends are quite firm in their decision to stay at the dance until it ends. Jocelyn, roving pirate queen, is (again) caught in the middle. Do I go with the guys, which entails (1) ditching Meghan, Angie, Jess, Chandra, and Nicki and (2) hanging out with the guys (you know I love you, but I hate being the only girl)-- or do I stay at the dance, and have a terrible time because I hate dances, and barely see Chris the whole grad night? More questions. If I DO go with the guys, how do we get to Jodi's party? Do they actually WANT me with them? If I stay at the dance, how is Nicki's new beau popssibly going to have room for all of us in his macho truck? And do the GIRLS actually WANT me with them? (are we noticing a pattern here?) And, regardless of whether I stay or go, how do I get home from the aftergrad, given that I can't drive and the busses aren't running?
I'm really tempted to skip the whole dance and aftergrad portion of the evening, but I'm not going to. For one, I know I'll sit at home and pout, and I'll begin thinking that my friends aren't thinking about me. It's not like I'll be productive. I'll just sit at home and mope, the way my Sims do when I don't let them go to sleep.
And the other reason is that after two bad grads, I have something to prove to myself.
So. All of that was the bad news. The good news is that I found lipstick the perfect colour for my dress.
I should kill myself and avoid this whole shitty situation.
I bought an orange shirt today.
I can't stop thinking about Chris.
I'm not going to do that thing I do where I get angry, and then instead of actually GETTING angry I sit there feeling bad, and the worse I feel the worse I feel, and it ruins my whole evening.
I am not going to allow this situation to make a jerk out of me.
I have come to realize that the reason I have to stop letting myself be manipulated is because the only person who gets hurt is me. No one else cares that much, but I care. It's so egotistical to assume that you can punish others by feeling bad about yourself, because no one loves anyone that deeply.
Owya. Toby is SO STONED.
Who is Meghan jealous of?
the good news or the good news?
Wednesday, May 31, 2000 @ 09:59 p.m.
Sir Toby is home from the vet. He's sedated, vaccinated, and microchipped. He's also supposed to not run around for the next MONTH. How we're going to keep a three-month-old puppy still for four weeks I don't know.
My grad dress is almost done. It lacks a couple seams, straps, one sleeve, and the finishing work around the bodice, but it's mostly together-- to the point that I could wear it to grad as-is and look, well, really really strange.
So, two sources of stress mostly eliminated.
Not that I'm happy, because I'm not. I'm exhausted and I haven't had time to write in my actual journal proper in days. Just little McPitas.
I worked until 9. We got to close the cigarette-chelf unit-- a turn of the key and it closes, garage-door style. Countout machine! Cigarette shelf! Cash register! Photocopier. So many machines, so little time! What is a girl to do?
At least I switched my shift for the day after grad, so I don't have to work the Saturday. I got my June schedule and I have a shitload of shifts-- I work 11 days out of 31. Sigh.
Love,
Jocelyn
PS. Angie has the Sims?!? Maybe she borrowed it from Chris? My sorority sisters are doing very well. They all have jobs, and so bring home about $1100 a day. They live in a lap of luxury-- two bathrooms, a greenhouse, a weight machine, an art studio. But for the life of me I can't make them fulfill their purpose-- to wed Mr. Duality and produce many Dual Young 'Uns.
pin me down
Tuesday, May 30, 2000 @ 05:14 p.m.
"there was a street clown named King of Mice; he trained rodents, he did horroscopes, he could impersonate Napoleon, he could make dogs fart on command. One night he jumped out his window with all his pets in a box. Written on the box was this: "Life is serious but art is fun!" I hear his funeral was a party. a street artist had killed himself. nobody had supported him but now everybody missed him. now who would make the dogs make music and the mice pant? the bear knows this, too; it is hard work and great art to make life not so serious." -the hotel new hampshire
so i say: i keep passing the open windows.
My baseball friends won last night!
worldwild
Monday, May 29, 2000 @ 06:31 p.m.
two years ago: "In art we worked on our plates; I decided to print mine of Safeway bags instead of tissue paper."
one year ago: "My English play (Macbeth: Act V) went really well, although there were a few flaws. Mainly, the most tragic act in which three big people die (Young Siward, Lady Macbeth, and Macbeth) turned a little comedic. When the English forces picked branches off the trees of Birnam Wood to march on Macbeth's castle, Loic and Cameron picked up some plastic potted trees they'd stolen from the school lobby and carried them on their heads. Loic... delivered all his lines with an English accent. Cam and Loic's swordfight went really well... except the way they stopped and leaned on their swords like they were croquet mallets every time they had to deliver a line of dialogue."
"'It's not easy being easy!'"
Meghan: is that directed at who I think it's directed at? (Me?)
I hope I'm not in trouble.
To be honest, I don't think I am.
Jeff: sometimes my journal entries are long letters to... well, everyone, even you. But you wouldn't want to read those ones!
