it means everything that has been erased

"An unprecedented proportion of today's youth lack commitment to core moral values like honesty, personal reponsibility, respect for others and civic duty." -Josephson Institute for Advancement of Ethics
fun! free! nutritious!
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email: jocelynb at shaw dot ca

i want to be, a macho man
Tuesday, May 21, 2002 @ 11:37 p.m.

The top ten ownable commodities that would make me a more satisfied consumer (and, by extension, a better human being):

  1. a DVD player and the entire first three seasons of Buffy
  2. An iBook
  3. some kind of semi-disposable Scandanavian chair made of stained birch wood
  4. a cordless phone
  5. above-average pens
  6. nostalgic table-top video games
  7. a huge, ginormous bathtub
  8. a CD-ROM drive that doesn't make a weird rhythmic whirring sound like it's having sex with my modem
  9. a number of random products from the 1950s which I could distribute around my house for that post-home-design home design look (like the Ladies Home Journal Guide to Interior Decorating from 1972, which I actually have, but in an ironic way).
  10. more ethnic art

Why am I doing this? Well, why not?

I've been having the strangest dreams lately. I half-remember them when I wake up, more tired than I was when I went to sleep.

I think I need more people in my life, not more stuff.

it tickles
Monday, May 20, 2002 @ 09:57 a.m.

Hm. I guess some non-illness-related posts might be appropriate now. (Subquestion: could a site called "Sicklog" become the next internet phenomenon?)

So here's something: Mike & Ike's come in these huge huge boxes now. I bought one yesterday (blue and purple flavour, because "blue" and "purple" are definitely flavours) and they're really, really good. My lips are purple now, and it's not going away.

In my Sunday school class yesterday we were talking about the Israelites, thirsty from wandering in the desert, and one of the kids in my class was like, "why didn't they get water from their sinks?" I told her they left their sinks in Egypt. I am going to be responsible for a huge number of historical, and possibly theological, inaccuracies in the minds of a whole generation of children from my church, and it's just because I'm too lazy to explain things.

And, in case you were wondering: yes, it does tickle.

You've got a strange disease
Sunday, May 19, 2002 @ 07:35 a.m.

Wow. This death cold is mutating again. I keep thinking an alien is going to jump out of my stomach and dance:
hello my baby, hello my darling, hello my ragtime gal...

This sickness is curiously dependent on my own thoughts. Each time I think, "well at least I don't have [x symptom]," it develops the next day. If I were to say, "well, at least dancing aliens aren't jumping out of my stomach and dancing with little tophats and shiny suits," sure enough, by tomorrow I would have my ticket out of this town.

So anyway, that's why I'm awake so early. Because I couldn't sleep. Because my throat is so sore that every time I cough I think I'm going to throw up, it hurts so much. How about that, eh?

It's not fantastic.

Speaking of dancing aliens though, tonight is the LAST EPISODE OF THE X-FILES, EVER, and I'm not even going to be home. Perhaps I can get my sister to tape it for me. I used to be pretty committed to that show back around seasons 3/4 and I would feel guilty not watching the last episode.

I wonder if Shopper's is open. Maybe I could go get some cough syrup. Except, it's far to Shopper's and I would have to go on the bus and it would take me about an hour, probably. It doesn't seem worth it.

I'll just die here, alone and awake, at 7.41 AM on Sunday, thus missing the Simpsons season finale, my exciting summer-session class, my parents' return tonight, the arrival of summer, my daughter's wedding, and for that matter, my daughter.

focus focus
Saturday, May 18, 2002 @ 10:41 a.m.

I actually got to sleep for a big chunk of last night, which felt great. My sore throat has morphed into a sore throat AND a constant headache AND a stuffy nose AND a cough, and I'm not sure if this is good (ie, at least it's progressing towards the inevitable end) or bad (because i feel worse).

I walked to Mac's last night in the rain (more chocolate milk, of course) and it smelled so fresh and wonderful.

My sister only has two mixtapes, and she listens to them over and over again in her room very loudly. It's making me insane. Mainly they consist of the following songs:

  • Lullabye, Shawn Mullens.
  • Thorn In My Side, the Eurythmics.
  • This Is Your Life, the Dust Brothers.
  • If I Had $1,000,000, the Barenaked Ladies (witty live version)
  • Rockin' The Suburbs, Ben Folds (My sister likes this song because she heard me listening to it once and later asked, "Can I borrow that CD with that song on it... the one where he goes... 'FUUUUCCCCCCCKKK!'?")
  • Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel, Tavares.
  • Goodbye Earl, the Dixie Chicks

She taped all these songs (except the eurythmics) from MY CD collection, but my offers to make her a new mixtape, with DIFFERENT songs on it, are refused. I'm going to throw up.

things that make me feel a little better (but not much)
Friday, May 17, 2002 @ 11:01 a.m.

  • chocolate milk
  • soda crackers in bed
  • yeah, that's it

Argh.
Thursday, May 16, 2002 @ 11:37 a.m.

What difference does it make whether Spiderman or Star Wars Episode II makes the most money? I mean, it's not like either movie is in danger of not recouping expenses, so who cares? It's this big contest for no reason. It's the same people who are seeing both, pretty much, and in my case, both kinda on opening night (Star Wars last night, Spiderman the day after it opened).

Anyway, it doesn't matter, I just don't see why everything has to be a competition.

I had all these big plans for this week-- well, OK, a couple of medium-sized plans-- but I'm not going to do them because I'm sick with the black lung and I'm too dying to go out.

Also, my GPA rose above a 7 for the first time EVER. Now it's 7.05. Yeah, you KNOW you know!

repeat after me: "Velvet Underground."
Wednesday, May 15, 2002 @ 10:42 a.m.

From SoYouWanna.com, the helpful guide: how to fake being an indie rock expert. This would have been more helpful BEFORE i took my FMS class full of indie-rock people.

shameless plug
Wednesday, May 15, 2002 @ 10:28 a.m.

I ordered some stickers from this site last week, and they arrived today. They're little, about 1.5" in diameter (like how I snuck a math word in there? sneaky, huh?) and cute and say things like "apathy is a drag" and "what the fuck?" They're awesome and cheap ($.25 US/each) and you should order a bunch and then give them to me because I love stickers yes I do.

He also makes buttons, including a button that says "ask me about my buttons." At home depot or Revy or one of those places, the employees used to wear buttons that said "Ask me about my back support." Once I asked one of them, "How's your back support?" and she was like, "What?"

That's when I was young and annoying and in highschool. Now I am older and still kind of annoying and in university, and I'm far too jaded to engage in conversations with other humans.

JoceTV
Tuesday, May 14, 2002 @ 10:32 a.m.

Before my dad woke me up with a phone call, I was dreaming a documentary about cats and dogs with clairvoyant powers. It had a narrator providing the commentary and everything. At least it didn't have commercials.

Sometimes my dreams have commercials.

Wow, speaking of commercials, someone from the lesbian sex show signed my guestbook! This is fantastic! I might be on my way to a successful career as a porn star!

Oh, wait. The reason I'm getting an english degree is that i want to be a boring academic, not a porn star. Never mind.

TWO updates in one day? I'm a loose cannon!
Monday, May 13, 2002 @ 12:21 p.m.

My onion horoscope:

Capricorn (Dec. 22- Jan 20)

Go to the gym. Oh, just freaking do it already.

Weird. Uncannily accurate.

deletia: your pants will never be the same.
Monday, May 13, 2002 @ 10:23 a.m.

I passed my history 111 class, i passed my history 111 class. Let us set aside several minutes for the sexy class-passing dance.

Shake what your momma gave you!

And... we're done.

Oh: apparently, taping a fresh banana peel (slimy side in) to a finger with a splinter and leaving it on overnight will magically pull the splinter out. (Enzymes, like turkeytrophin, the made-up enzyme in turkey.) Of course, you do have to sleep with a banana peel on your finger, which will make you look stupid if your house is burgled. And I have enough trouble sleeping normally now.

I guess you could stay up all night, watching it work.

"That's gross!"
"No, that's science!"

Oh2: it's been along time since I've seen some of my friends.


Sunday, May 12, 2002 @ 05:46 p.m.

Mm, my hands smell like lemon seafood marinade. What a wonderful day. I spent chunks of it outside on the deck reading in my ugly orange deck chair, and I feel ready to deal with the rest of my life now.

So, I've been playing around with this calculator which will tell you how many calories you burn doing various activities. [link from fush, which is a wonderfully interesting and sometimes amusing site, by the way] I have discovered that I burn only one and a half times as many calories having sex as I do sleeping-- discouraging news. [And that's normal sleeping, I should think-- not the kind of restless, nightmarish, tossing-and-turning sleeping I usually do these days.]

Hmmm. I've done a little more "research" and apparently playing billiards burns twice as many calories as sex. Fire-fighting ("general") is more than nine times as many, and running after children is three times as many. I'm pretty sure this has the potential to be a diet of its own. The children-chasing fire-fighting diet: lose weight AND serve society in TWO different capacities!

Oh, man. I totally have the best ideas.

OK, typing burns more calories than sex?!? I type enough, I should be in great shape.

Stupid internet.

fun fact of the day
Friday, May 10, 2002 @ 07:25 p.m.

Zoloft, a perscription antidepressant that belongs to the same family of drugs as Prozac (selective seratonin reuptake inhibitors, or SSRIs) apparently caused feelings of suicide in healthy volunteers in a clinical study. In Germany, SSRIs including Prozac carry a warning label saying it may cause higher rates of suicidal thoughts. The account of the study is here. (And of course the company that produced Prozac made attempts to cover up the cases-- heaven forbid the patients should know what's going on.)

I bought a cool shirt from the 70s and now I don't need antidepressants, anyway. I can cure myself with fashion nostalgia trips and carbohydrates.

hey, elizabeth i'm doing alright these days
Thursday, May 9, 2002 @ 01:52 p.m.

"this is going to be the picture you frame and put by your bed when you've been married for 45 years." [as the polaroid develops] "Oh. No. It isn't."

"So, one day you're sitting in your castle, or wherever it is that you live, and suddenly you realize, 'I have to go to the desert,' or something?"

Oh, I just remembered: does anyone want to trade mixtapes? I want to make a new one, but everyone in my life has already reached a jocelyn-mixtape saturation point, I think. Email me (address above). Any kind of music is good, as long as it's not bad. (bad music = not good.)

thou shalt not talk to yourself on the bus.
Tuesday, May 7, 2002 @ 10:41 a.m.

I am now obsessed with the TV show Love By Design. It's a fascinating cultural artifact.

We also went to see Lantana last night, with Anthony LaPaglia and Geoffrey Rush. It had some interesting ideas, but for a movie with interesting ideas, it was pretty boring. The first hour and a quarter had virtually no action. But it did have salsa dancing, so all is not lost.

I had a dream that I was at the swimming pool, which was outside in my grandparents' yard, with some of my friends. Instead of lockers there were these picnic tables with big combination locks on them and you had to lock you stuff inside the tables, which were hollow. I forgot my combination and couldn't get my stuff. Then, just as I spotted one of my shoes (they were converse all-stars from, like, 1993) in the snowbank, the phone woke me up.

Also: my hair is Princess Leia-esque today, and to celebrate I'm not going outside at all, except maybe to Mac's for some blue fish. So far this "summer" vacation has involved an awful lot of snow, network television, and cookies: ALWAYS a bad sign.

Do I really need a future?

I'm a conquistador... I'm a comfortador also
Friday, May 3, 2002 @ 09:30 a.m.

Yesterday I watched Pretty Woman in French (Une Jolie Femme). I also got woken up at 1 in the morning by the police, who were circling over our neighbourhood in their police-copter. When I woke up I assumed I had dreamt it until my dad asked me, "did you hear the police last night?"

If you have walked into a museum lately-- whether you did so to attend an art exhibition or to escape from the police-- you may have noticed a type of painting known as a triptych. A triptych has three panels, with something different painted on each of the panels. For instance, my friend Professor Reed made a triptych for me, and he painted fire on one panel, a typewriter on another, and the face of a beautiful and intelligent woman on the third. The triptych is called "What Happened to Beatrice" and I cannot look yupon it without weeping.

-A Series of Unfortunate Events: book the Fifth

"That's it! That's it! You have to work for money!" -the bizarre fashion photographer/angel (?) in the Five Alive commercial

This is a pretty cool project. (From green notebook.net.)

I know that I haven't been very interesting lately, but I promise that some time in the near future I will become interesting again. In the meantime you all still have to be nice to me!

eats shoots and leaves
Thursday, May 2, 2002 @ 09:40 a.m.

[pointing to a particularly menacing-looking triceratops] "This one eats leaves, and this one eats... carrots, like a bunny."
"It's a bunnysaurus!"

Professor Walsh: So, the Slayer.
Buffy: Yeah, that's me.
Walsh: We thought you were a myth.
Buffy: Well, you were myth-taken.

I'm back.
Wednesday, May 1, 2002 @ 10:19 p.m.

Or so it seems. I mean, I wanted to see what it would be like to be websiteless, and the truth is, I hardly noticed the difference. I didn't really miss it, but I didn't not miss it.

What would you do if your mother asked you?