i'm so damn cute

more me, me, marvelous me

[a boy]
[the roving pirate queen]
[some form of explanation]
[links-- huge, messy file]
[a list of things that are tasty]
[my lameass radio station]
[older pictures]
[buy me stuff]

this is deletia. you will be assimilated. or made fun of

[las pitas viejos-- the archive]
[the current pita entity]
[email me-- please!]
[yes, i have a guestbook]
for me: [login]
[served cold: old taglines]

a few of my favourite peopleses

[angie] is a superhero
[james] is captain obvious
[jeff] is an internet ninja
though [jess] is but small she is fierce
[meghan] is the royal buffalo

they have sutff you can buy to make yourself more like me

[pick*y cosmetics]
[abe books]
[thinkgeek]
[emily strange]
[threadless]

interesting strangers

[inpassing]
[eric conveys an emotion]
[bluishorange]
[amplified to rock]
[mary chen]
[bryanboyer.com]
[oh messy life]
[popsensation]
[exploding dog]

a bunch of other links that didn't fit into the above categories but that are still pretty cool

[the fray]
[shakespeare]
[the onion av club]
[fifty fresh pitas]
[damn hell ass kings]
[fun!]
[girlboy]
[uber]
[charged]
[atlantic unbound]
[chickclick]
[BUST]
[adbusters]
[art of the mix]
[red balloon]
[the new varscona]
[the sims]
[malcolm in the middle]
[buffy]
[wild colonials]
[airtoons]
[disturbing search requests]
[kvetch]
[hey! url!]
[u of a]
[plastic]
[freespeech]
[pitas]
[divide by zero]
[google]
[1000 journals]

l < subversive > ?
boys [suck]

i've been
fucking imood
since march 1st, 2000!

I'm cured! I want the boys!
Friday, January 11, 2002 @ 09:34 p.m.

the cold hard lands
they bites our hands,
they gnaws our feet,
the rocks and stones
are like cold bones
all bare of meat.
but stream and pool
is wet and cool;
so nice for feet!
and now we wish--

[here Gollum remembers his riddle competition with Bilbo and how much he hates Bagginses before continuing--]

Alive without breath;
as cold as death;
never thirsting, ever drinking;
clad in mail, never clinking
drowns on dry land.
thinks an island is a mountain
thinks a fountain
is a puff of air.
so sleek, so fair!
what a joy to meet!
we only wish
to catch a fish,
so juicy-sweet!

Gollum rocks, ya'll. You knowses you knowses.

seventeen magazine, one of the best sources for quizzes, asks: do you try too hard to get the boy? I don't try hard enough, it seems. "While your commitment to self-respect is commendable, is it possible you're sending the wrong signal?" (I guess it is possible-- my boyfriends keep leaving the country!)

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"I'M GOING TO GO SELF-ACTUALIZE!"
Thursday, January 10, 2002 @ 05:11 p.m.

"he's not gay, but he dreams of turning his hair salon into a disco... old grandmas would walk in and they can't help but dance." -Angie, on her hairdresser-- a note scribbled to myself while on the phone

  • It's been a weird day for religious fundamentalism. (This has nothing to do with Angie, by the way.) I had lunch with Becky, which is always a riot-- I love hearing her talk about SCA (which is the high school she went to and the school where my dad teaches). The librarian there keeps banning books my dad tries to teach from. The punchline is that she has no higher education of any kind, and she used to be a bus supervisor who somehow moved up the volunteer-work food chain. Now the school doesn't know how to get rid of her.

  • There was a really disturbing excerpt from a Jerry Falwell speech in adbusters magazine, which I'm not even going to quote or link to, it offended me so much, but it was related to how feminists and abortionists are partly responsible for the terrorist attacks on the US because they "make God angry";
  • and my mother returned from Houston, Texas, where she spent a very, uh, educational week. I have a fascination with Texas. When I think Texas, I think cowboys, George Bush, scary religious fundamentalists, and barbeque, in that order. I would like to go there, if only to see if my stereotypical ideas are true.

    Also, I really want a capital punishment bumper sticker, although I'm sure if I stuck it to anything I own-- even in an ironic way-- I would get beat up in my Sociology class faster than you can say "misunderstood".

oh, speaking of Sociology: I like my sociology prof a lot. He reminds me of Douglas Coupland if Douglas Coupland looked like my father. He says very unconventional things in such a calm way that you can't help but take them seriously... and then you stop to think and go, "hey, that was unconventional!" I also like my anthro prof. He's from Argentina. When I get tired of listening to him talk about Anthro I just practice his accent in my head.

Another school note: I paid $200 for three paperback textbooks today. I had a long rant in my head about how publishers screw university students any way they can, but I decided not to unleash my fury on you. Not really out of concern or positive attitude, but just because I'm not in a very rant-y mood. I've already typed off my steam.

I was wearing my thinkgeek shirt today. In HUB, having coffee with Meghan, this guy comes up to me and goes, "Hey, a thinkgeek shirt! I have the one with the binary code dripping down the front!" I really like the feeling of owning clothing that complete strangers want to comment on. I think in general the world would be a nicer place if more strangers were willing to talk to each other.

OK, that's the end. I know it wasn't all related, but I did put line breaks in... because I care. Take good care of yourselves (and each other), OK? And also, the bloggies are coming up, but whoever nominated my last year... please don't do it again. I'm being serious. I was really stressed about that.

I have to go now OK? Bye

Love,
Jocelyn

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This is the best part... i mean, the worst part
Wednesday, January 9, 2002 @ 10:03 p.m.

Scientist 1: 'we have created a way in which intellectuals at our nations universities can exchange ideas and theories and thus lead to the betterment of humanity'
Scientist 2: 'and we have created a way in which geeks will be able to explain toothpaste stains on their pants to thousands and thousands of people'
-Moby

OK. So, it seems that Moby has a website too (he copied me!) and he writes much the way you would expect Moby to write. The only real reason I'm posting this is because we heard him at Lola's the other night (not actually Moby... Moby in CD format), and so the thought of Moby leaves a pleasant grapefruit-martini taste in my mouth.

Maybe I should rename this website "Jocelyn's tour diary." I could be like, "Well, now I'm on a tour of Rutherford library... and now I'm on a tour of my fucking living room... and now I'm on a tour of my bed

arggh"

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i would be involved with you
Wednesday, January 9, 2002 @ 04:33 p.m.

One year ago: "you have to excuse me, i'm still and you're in motion"

On my stereo-- it's Dire Straits:
all i do is miss you
and the way we used to be
all i do is keep the beat
and bad company

Whenever I get spam now, I just respond with the helpful message, "fuck you." Most of the time the email bounces, but it makes me feel slightly better. It's-- cathartic?

Did I tell you that my philosphy professor is named Bruce? This is practically the only reason I go to class. I sit there in HC L-1 and lean my head back against the metal bar that runs around the top of the lecture theatre, and close my eyes (although I can still see those bright HC lights, like spots on the backs of my eyelids) and I think to myself, "no pouftas!" It cheers me up, at least for awhile.

This week has really sucked. It has sucked on a grand scale. I just feel like sleeping for about three days, but instead I'm going to meet people for coffee and go to class and line up for four hours to buy my fucking textbooks and walk my dog and take babysitting jobs. And then the rest of the time I'll continue to not eat anything and not sleep at night and no one will know. Except, I just told you so I guess I fucked up.

My new year's resolution is to stop feeling like such an idiot-- and to stop acting like such an idiot. I guess I should've known, anyway.

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goodbye Rosie, the queen of Corona
Monday, January 7, 2002 @ 07:29 p.m.

when you cut raw noodles with scissors they make a sound like scrunch

I'm really sick. I can't believe how I have gone from being perfectly OK (see "before") picture to abandoning my life and lying in bed (see "after"). I blame rhinoviruses. My head hurts-- not a regular sort of headache but bizarre pressure, that feels like someone is stomping on bits of my brain inside my head and calling me mean names. "swelly-nose girl." Jump, jump. "Betcha can't sleep, can you?"

Actually I can, and I just did, for two hours, by accident. While I was working.

If anyone is out there please make me not sick anymore

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i don't want no one-minute man
Sunday, January 6, 2002 @ 01:28 p.m.

we saw the royal tennenbaums yesterday. I thought it was great. Maybe the best thing about it was getting to see the actors-- like Gwyneth Paltrow, Danny Glover, and Bill Murray-- do things they don't usually do. It's always refreshing to watch a movie and remember that actors actually do get paid to do something, ie., act. Also, Anjelica Huston was just great. And... Ben stiller's track suit! Anyway, it was great, and you should go see it too.

Ooooh... five "writing quality" points for using the word "great" three times in one paragraph. I am a fucking genius.

Afterward we went and drank martinis. The night was fairly warm. This morning the sun even came up-- it's up still-- and it's seater-weather outside. (I'm all about global warming.) As I rode the LRT over the river this morning, that old primitive radio gods song (standing outside a broken phone booth with money in my hand?) came on my walkman (very old mixtape) and for some reason it felt very surreal and zenny.

I'm probably going to have to go watch the music episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer again now. I watched it yesterday, I'm going to watch it today, and I'll probably watch it tomorrow. This is because (a) I am obsessive and (b) I am bored.

Tomorrow we go back to school. I'm not sure whether I'm excited or not, which probably means I'm not.

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la la lalalala live for today
and don't worry about tomorrow

Saturday, January 5, 2002 @ 04:12 p.m.

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love is everything that keeps us up all night
Friday, January 4, 2002 @ 02:51 p.m.

I got a roll of film back from the developer's. It had a lot of miscellaneous stuff on it, nothing really worth scanning and posting, except this one-- us playing Monopoly, wearing our best "ruthless businessperson" faces.

I'm making my special "What's-In-Jocelyn's-Fridge?" chicken pot pie and reading up on ecumenism.

Also: my Sims have reached a saturation point. They have so much money that there is literally nothing more they can do with it all. They already have a giant Turkich bubble blower, a sex tub, a giant Italian fountain, a sleek aluminum dining room table, a grand piano which reminds me of Liberace, a fireplace, a hula girl lamp, and all the other trappings of successful Sim-dom. I was thinking about this and it got me wondering if there is a comporable degree of wealth in human beings: where there's really nothing more you can buy. I suppose there is. But whereas my Sims now spend all their time making out, blowing bubbles and eating pizza, real people have a different response to that situation: they start using their money to try to make more money. What's the point of money if you can't buy anything with it, except more money? If you think about it, it doesn't make any sense.

This in turn got me thinking about the inflation that occurred in Germany in the 1930s, when paper money was burned because that was cheaper than buying firewood. I guess that's the opposite problem. Currency with no value.

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Do you think I have a big nose?
Thursday, January 3, 2002 @ 09:14 p.m.

I've been reading the new John Irving book, The Fourth Hand. I've been a big Irving fan for many years, but I'm beginning to lose my faith. This book is-- well, I have trouble defining the exact reason, but I hate it. It's too over-the-top. His books have always been characterized by a sort of calculated zaniness, but I think he's lost touch with the sensitivity or sense of magic that used to make them... well, you know... good. I guess if you're a really famous writer, though, you can write anything you want and no one's gonna call you on it... except maybe me... but who's listening?

I heard from both James and my dad today, over email, which was a bit surreal. I can never quite wrap my brain around time differences. I know that supposedly the universe is a rational place, but when I get email from London (where it is now, like, 4 in the morning) twice in one day I stop believing it, if only for an instant.

On another note: my family is driving me insane. It's REALLY time for me to go back to school.

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And that's just fine with me
Tuesday, January 1, 2002 @ 10:43 p.m.

I've fallen in love. A little G3 powerbook in a slinky black dress with a frustrating-yet-cute modem problem, no floppy drive, and a touchpad you just want to... touch. It's not mine yet so no fucking around. If I do get to keep it (overheard this afternoon: "Daddy, can I keep it?") I'll name it Victoria.

How evil are you? (Note: link stolen from eaten by sharks)

I'm only 12% evil, which isn't really surprising. I went to a wedding last night (fear not... this IS related) and, listening to the toasts to the bride and groom, I realized something: I can never get married. No one would ever say such nice things about me in a toast-- about my good nature and my wonderful laugh and how pleasant I am to be around. That's the first reason. I wouldn't want to pressure my maid of honour or whoever into LYING. Secondly, weddings freak me out. They take a very everyday thing-- marriage-- and make it mystical: two bodies one spirit, til death do us part, etc. I'm far too human and imperfect to be involved in anything so pure and special.

But there's a big difference between being hard to live with and being evil. And THAT is why I am not evil, and THAT is why I'm not getting married. Or if I do there will be no speeches. Or pantyhose. But dammit, there will be cake!

Quote for the day: "O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself the king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams." -Hamlet

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don't forget: no regrets/except maybe one...
Tuesday, January 1, 2002 @ 05:46 p.m.

I've had a lot of people asking me to keep them posted on my Sims' progress-- ie, if any of them are getting any. The answer, I think, is yes:

Asha is the one with the ponytails; she's a surgeon. Eve is the one with the darker skin. She's a TV actress. They've been together for 32 days. They live with Eve's ex-boyfriend Tom, Tom's sister Kate, and Kate's boyfriend. Asha is very athletic and Eve is a very good cook. Asha doesn't know it, but Eve is having an affair (she was getting bored because she works evenings and Asha is always gone during the day.) My Sims lead terrible, terrible lives. But they DO have a G4 cube, a Christina Aguilera poster, green chairs made out of skis, and a neat carpenter's bench, so their lives gain meaning through the possessions they acquire.

It's a little disturbing, actually. The sims used to be so wholesome. Now they're just like every other area of my life-- cynical and jaded. I liked it better before they started making out in their heart-shaped hot tub.

Although, I do sort of wish I had a heart-shaped hot tub. They're just so... obvious, you know?

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