On the other hand, maybe he is Cuban
Thursday, January 9, 2003 @ 11:12 p.m.
I've just finished reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Of Love And Other Demons, and like every Marquez book it makes me wish I belonged to some decaying aristocratic family living in a delapidated mansion in a mosquito-infested port in post-colonial South America. This is a silly thing for a modern girl like me to wish for, but then, practicality is not in my contract.
It should also be noted that I am very susceptible to suggestions made by films and literature. Catch Me If You Can made me want to be a con-man; every Stephen Leacock book makes me wish I lived in a charming small town; a number of Hollywood movies have made me think I should become a stripper or a prostitute or an escort. The only exception to this tendency is the book INTO THIN AIR, which did not make me want to climb Everest; in fact, I was then and still am of the opinion that climbing dangerous mountains for no particular reason is a stupid task that would only be undertaken by men, who lack reason and replace it instead with longing and logic.
In my Shakespeare class we are reading Troilus and Cressida. I can't say I really understand it. I'm going to assure myself that it's one of the "Problem Plays," with two capital 'p's. The university campus feels like a very lonely place these days, and I'm not sure why, but it has something to do with the wind outside, which blows smaller people over.
Valentines day is coming up, and I find the prospect discouraging, although I may actually have a happy one this year, for the first time since elementary school (when, like everone else, I got a brown paper bag full of indiscriminate valentines, some with my name spelled wrong by imaginative parents; Jocelyn is a weirder name than you might think). Valentines day is a depressing holiday, and I'm sticking to that story. I might go to a movie by myself just to make it hurt, because it feels like it should hurt.
I can not have told you the truth, even by accident.
you can make me absolutely happy
Wednesday, January 8, 2003 @ 07:56 p.m.
Cleanin' out my mental closet
Tuesday, January 7, 2003 @ 04:19 p.m.
The Western, now a dead genre, can be conceived as a clash between male and female values, the female being characterized by an emphasis on community and caring, and the male on individualism and violence. The Western is all about an ideal male being able to act on his values in an ideal environment, ie., a land free of restraints. [Source: FMS 312]
During the Elizabethan era and earlier, European royalty created essentially manufactured geneologies tracing themselves back to the Trojans who lost in the Trojan war and went on to form the Roman Empire. This gave them a sort of divine right to rule, lent them "monarchy cred," and seemed to fulfil promises in the Aeneid of "empire without end." [Source: English 339]
Although it may have seemed like a good idea at the time, stacking my 200-or-so CDs in a big pile taller than me was an ill-conceived storage solution. Now I can't access anything lower than about 'C' because the pile is too heavy and unstable. [Source: just take my word for it]
And no, I never meant to hurt my mother.
How could I ever forget
Monday, January 6, 2003 @ 04:10 p.m.
I make pasta with shrimp and only eat the shrimp. Because cooking just shrimp doesn't feel like a proper meal.
When we signed up for cable, we got lots of free extra obscure channels, including the "bald guy talking about the stock exchange" channel, the firelog channel, the graph channel, the pretty blonde girls doing lap dances channel, etc. Now they've cut off the extra channels and it's boring. There are no Mexican soap operas.
Based on an in-depth analysis of Eminem's music, I have concluded that the man has issues.
bonjour, c'est moi
Monday, January 6, 2003 @ 07:46 a.m.
Another semester begins. I haven't gone to my first class yet and I'm already burnt out. That's never a cool sign.
I have to get up at this time three times a week for the next four months, theoretically. But according to the quantnum laws of class-attendance (in particular, classes attended offered by the faculty of science) I need only attend approximately 60% of the time. Hopefully.
Oh: We went to see CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON last night at the Metro, with 3-D glasses, and it was the best (or actually, the best of James's-- I'm broke again) I've ever spent.
"Can I rip some of it off and see if I can eat it?"
"The monkey is French?"
"All monkeys are French, didn't you know that?"
hurt you deep inside, but you never slowed down
Thursday, January 2, 2003 @ 06:42 p.m.
Jocelyn: "I'm so depressed."
James: "Why don't you make some of those sighing noises? That will make you feel better."
If you abuse me, honey you lose me
Thursday, January 2, 2003 @ 01:04 p.m.
Will someone please come over here and empty my recycling bin?
New year's resolution: try to provide actual weblog-style links
Wednesday, January 1, 2003 @ 07:06 p.m.
In tangential relation to my interest in all things mail-art: the graceful envelope contest from the US national postal museum.
My actual new year's resolution is to stop wasting time on useless web-diversions like this site. My other new year's resolution is to stop lying about what my new year's resolutions are.
I call you up and ask you if you'd like to go with me and see a movie
Wednesday, January 1, 2003 @ 01:31 p.m.
I've been watching Wonder Boys. I love this movie so, so much.
Hannah: "I'm not the downy innocent you think I am."
Grady: "That's too bad. We need all the downy innocents we can get."
Oola: I know you. Bourbon on the rocks. I never forget a drink.
Tripp: And I never forget an Oola.
[Crabtree and a student drag James, played by Tobey Maguire (!), hopped up on codeine, out of the auditorium.]
James Leer: The doors made so much noise!
Grady Tripp: Is he all right?
James Leer: It was so embarrassing! He had to be carried out.
Terry Crabtree: He's fine. He's narrating.
James Leer: They were going to the restroom. But would they make it in time?
I had a really good New Year's Eve, and today I have a really good New Year's Day Hangover. I even got kissed at midnight.
I got home from Peace River yesterday. My trip as OK, but I had cold feet (actual cold feet, not metaphorical cold feet) for four days. And when I came home I had mail! It is one of those days where, if my head didn't hurt so much, I would be breathlessly happy to be alive. It's so, so bright outside. Happy New Year! I sincerely hope everyone in the internet world (and the real world as well) has a year full of non-bill mail, seafood, good books and fine films, people you love, and anything else that makes you as happy as I am right now.
Je suis un petit cahier bleu
Tuesday, December 31, 2002 @ 03:51 p.m.
My feet haven't been warm for four days, but I am home, and I really really need to watch Office Space.
It's important. Better update later.
what would you go wild for?
Thursday, December 26, 2002 @ 06:40 p.m.
Until further notice, I will drink nothing but champagne spritzers and eat nothing but truffles, mashed potatoes and whipped cream.
"The part that gets me, though, is where Buffy is the Vampire Slayer. She's so little." -Ms. Calendar
Did you have a nice Christmas, if you are a Christmas-celebrating-person? I did, because I got to play Scrabble and I am making an indoor fountain out of a big terra cotta planter. It's neat.
One dumb joke I made up myself
Wednesday, December 25, 2002 @ 03:01 p.m.
What do you call the elves of Lothlorien following Haldir to Helm's Deep? (highlight) The blonde leading the blonde!
I know, I'm a dork. My sister laughed though.
And Madonna isn't even on there
Wednesday, December 25, 2002 @ 12:06 p.m.
From Fametracker's Galaxy of Fame: 2002: the Year in Review.
in a deserted date-palm ranch in the off-season...
Tuesday, December 24, 2002 @ 02:09 p.m.
So far, being 20 feels very tired.
Shaw cable channel 18 has been a burning fire log and schmaltzy Christmas music for at least 2 days.
North Koreans warn of "uncontrollable catastrophe."
and so this is Christmas
Tuesday, December 24, 2002 @ 11:18 a.m.
And you thought it was just a highly original but somewhat un-funny joke, well; it's so much more.
let me see your alligator
Saturday, December 21, 2002 @ 11:49 a.m.
"The mistaken exits and entrances of my thirties have moved me several times to some thought of spending the rest of my days wandering aimlessly around the South Seas, like a character out of Conrad, silent and inscrutable. But the necessity for frequent visits to my oculist and dentist has prevented this. You can't be running back from Singapore every few months to get your lenses changed and still retain the proper mood for wandering. Furthermore, my horn-rimmed glasses and my Ohio accent petray me, even when I sit on the terrasses of little tropical cafes, wearing a pith helmet, staring straight ahead, and twitching a muscle in my jaw. I found this out when I tried wandering around the West Indies one summer. Instad of being followed by the whispers of men and the glances of women, I was followed by a bead salesman and native women with postcards. Nor did any dark girl, looking at all like Tondelayo in 'White Cargo,' come forward and offer to go to pieces with me. They tried to sell me baskets." -James Thurber, A Note At The End
A magazine I really, really wish I worked for, or even just had a subscription to, is dwell. I have an unholy love for those architecture and interior design magazines. They portray such interesting, elegant, thoroughly modern people in their interesting, elegant, thoroughly modern (usually) houses, and I can't help thinking that all of them, put together, own less stuff than me. Seriously. I could never live in a modern house because my stuff would overwhelm the architecture. And no magazine crews would want to write articles about me. And I would die alone and be eaten by wild dogs, just like Bridget Jones.
It's not cool at all.
I am a website updating machine.
Thursday, December 19, 2002 @ 11:14 p.m.
Things I still want/need for Christmas or my birthday, but which I keep forgetting to ask people for when they ask me what I want for Christmas/my birthday:
Boy, I'll be twenty in four days. Isn't that something? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH THE REST OF MY LIFE? What if I never find a job I like, or achieve anything? What if I live the rest of my life in studentesque poverty? How much cake can I eat without making myself sick?
Ahhh, questions. Well, g'night.
Thursday, December 19, 2002 @ 11:17 a.m.
I've been searching for myself all over this internet, and my site is the #1 hit for "deletia" on every major search engine. However, many of them use this description:
Author uses her weblog as a diary and record book for life's events. See pictures of friends and pets, read original poetry and contact Jocelyn.
I sound so uncool! I would like to know who wrote that blurb, because it sure as hell wasn't me.
Ideal search-engine blurb:
Author uses her weblog to express her myriad of interesting, informed opinions using verbal wit and powerful insight. She takes on big topics like culture, politics and faith fearlessly. She's also pretty hot.
a meticulous masochist
Thursday, December 19, 2002 @ 09:33 a.m.
I am pleased to say that I stayed up watching the two-hour finale of the Amazing Race last night, and it was all I expected. I enjoyed it immensely. Notes:
If I was either (a) married to Ian or (b) travelling with Flo, we would never have completed the race because I would have murdered my partner. Seriously. Both of them were terrible, and if I'd been with one of them, they would have got a slap, minimum. I was cheering for the two brothers, and I was seriously distressed that they didn't win. If there were any activities that required having functional relationships to get clues, though, they would've.
The way the Americans travel around in taxis going "very speedy," shout indiscriminately at native people "Do you speak English?" and basically act like ignorant self-absorbed fools is a metaphor for the post-colonial problem? (Americans in the post-colonial world are tolerated for their money and resented for their overbearing and offensive ways?) (Boy, can you tell I'm an Arts student?)
I went to the Two Towers yesterday and it was excellent. I highly recommend it, except for Tolkien purists who are going to be bothered by Elrond's change of heart and the battle at the Twin Cities-- deviations from The Text! I cried through a lot of it (Gandalf coming back, Cereborn dying, Legolas kicking Orc ass, Aragorn making out with Liv Tyler while Aerosmith plays in the background), although I've noticed that pretty much everything makes me cry these days, including the Kodak commercial where the little boy gets the photo of his grandma playing baseball enlarged. What's wrong with me? Seriously. It's not normal.