Stripped of his lands and paternal wealth he prepares to go mad by regular system and method. -Horace
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In my montage
Friday, February 27, 2004 @ 12:39 p.m.

"I thought it was gonna be like in the movies. You know, inspirational music ... a montage, me sharpening my pencils, me reading, writing, falling asleep on a big pile of books with my glasses all crooked, 'cause in my montage I have glasses." -Buffy


most of the time... i'm halfway content
Tuesday, February 24, 2004 @ 11:41 a.m.

Meghan, Courtney and I went to see Girl With A Pearl Earring and we rather liked it. It provoked a lot of discussion, at least. I like movies that are ambiguous enough that you're not sure what's going on. I'm also anxious to see The Dreamers. I have been reading articles online about it, how controversial it is in terms of sexual content. It's so ridiculous that in North America we can watch people getting eviscerated in movies but sex is unacceptable-- when most people will probably have sex in the course of their lives, but what percent of the population witnesses or takes part in horrible murders? A small percent! Which I would know exactly if I weren't so lazy about research. What's NC-17 anyway? This is a category we don't have here; The Dreamers carries an R rating in Canada.

"Oh, what's the matter, sweetie? Did the last of something die?" -Marge Simpson

"It's like muffins, only in cake format!" -my mother, on how eating cake for breakfast is OK

"I wake up at 1:30 in the morning and think, 'Oh My God, it's not clear!'" -My English prof, on writing academic papers

"Do you know who I am? I am a BIG FAN of remote control!" -Wilson (Philip Seymour Hoffman) in Todd Louiso's LOVE LIZA


Friday, February 20, 2004 @ 05:37 p.m.

I've been performing weird sociological experiments on my Sims again. I'm going to discover the true nature of humanity by giving my Sims complete free will. Are humans good or evil? Lazy or ambitious? Destructive or productive? Time will tell! I started off with an affluent young couple, built them a fancy, modernist beach house and let them go crazy. The only thing I make them do is go to work (to model the expectations of society for the individual). So far they have 1) eaten way too much, and often gotten food out of the fridge which they never got around to eating 2) had big arguments about celebrities while sitting in their heart-shaped hot tub 3) watched their big-screen TV 4) had lots of baths (the girl) and showers (the boy-- once, right in front of the maid). So they're lazy and hedonistic, but not really malicious. Just like me.

I'm sorry I'm so boring, internet. I would change for you, baby, if I could.


Dispatches from my shower:
Thursday, February 19, 2004 @ 03:19 p.m.

I have this peach exfoliating scrub, and the back of the bottle says, "Use twice daily as part of your skin care regime." My skin care regime? Do they mean regimen? Or has skin care gotten a lot more official and sort of menacing? Does buying new soap count as a regime change? I don't pay enough attention to my skin care regime, I don't think.

Also when I as small I seem to remember that conditioner was called "cream rinse."

Time for Spanish Buffy (La Cazadora de los Vampiros),


not getting any better
Wednesday, February 18, 2004 @ 09:51 a.m.

It's Reading Week so I finally watered my plants and cleaned my room. Once this week tarts there are no more excuses, baby, only vaccuuming.

Last Sunday Kristen and I watched ALIAS. Sloane is Sidney's father! Sark loves Lauren especially her boobies! But she is secretly working for Quentin Tarantino! So much chaos ad drama-- how will I stand the suspense and confusion?

Seriously, this show is so funny. It's like a soap opera combined with a James Bond movie, and then force-fed crack.

Oh: Angel has been cancelled. Poor Joss Whedon. No one understands him as I do. Angel, I hardly knew ye, mainly because I do not have ye Space channel.

"I know it was you, Maury. I know it was you, and it breaks my heart." -Zoolander


hi, everybody!
Wednesday, February 11, 2004 @ 04:46 p.m.

Last night, instead of doing any of my reading, or editing my pieceofcrap essay on Mary Wollstonecraft's The Wrongs of Woman and political consequences of her use of the novel form, I watched the movie Josie and the Pussycats, which I paid money to rent. Why? Because I WANTED TO! And I am, as my Engl 450 professor would say, a SOVEREIGN SUBJECT! No one would ever watch this movie with me, and so I rented it and watched it by myself. And it wasn't terrible. Parts of it, in fact, made me laugh. And Parkey Posey is in it, and she is CRAZZZZZY (sub-question: list the top 10 movies which star a crazzzzy Parker Posey? I'm sure there are at least 10). So, points.

Afterwards I wrote this note to myself in my journal: "The movie was sort of good, actually. I cannot confess this to anyone... oh, who am I kidding? I tell everyone everything. I'm a disclosure slut."

As I left the university I was overcome with the urge to buy things, possibly at the world's LARGEST MALL, located a convenient 15-minute bus ride from the university campus. So I did. I bought 2 CDs (Beth Orton and Sarah Harmer) because they were on sale, and another one (Carolyn Mark) because I love her (Carolyn Mark). The CDs I really wanted were either too expensive (Yo La Tengo, $26?!?) or not there at all (The Postal Service-- 2 separate people I like like it, so it's probably good). Nothing makes me feel like an individual the way consuming does. It's good for the soul.

I'm still really sick, but not as sick as before. I like it when my cold progresses to new phases, because it makes me feel like I am making progress. My sore throat and dry cough are almost completely gone, but I have a horrible headache. This is wonderful news! It means I'm getting better, or at least, getting worse differently. And as Voltaire said, "If we do not find anything pleasant, at least we shall find something new."

James has his mom's car for a couple weeks and we're trying to think of places we can drive to. We were going to go to a movie in Sherwood Park just because it was within the realm of possibility. (But it was on at stupid times in Sherwood Park)

There are all these movies on right now I want to see. It's great. I was getting really bored. The one I'm probably most excited about is The Triplets of Bellville. I saw trailers and it looked awesome, plus, a Canadian movie that isn't about incest! It's not every day one of those comes along.

It's a warm day today. Throw a frisbee around, if you have one. If you don't have one, go buy one, you lazy person! I have spoken!


Because good is dumb
Tuesday, February 10, 2004 @ 10:16 a.m.

All my weekend plans fell by the wayside as I huddled in front of the TV, watching episode after episode of ALIAS. I'm very sick. I don't sleep at night and every time I sneeze it hurts my throat so much I think I'm going to throw up. On Sunday night my mom and I watched the Grammys for a little while, until we realized we'd far exceeded our maximum recommended daily dose of Sting. And then my dad and I did cherry NyQuil shots with ginger ale chasers, which was deeply gross. We were cheering each other on: "Just drink it all at once! OK, good! Now wash it down with this!"

So, nothing to report. I'll be back when I'm feeling better or get so bored I can't stand it, whichever comes first.


here in my car, i am hosing out blood
Wednesday, February 4, 2004 @ 05:05 p.m.

...some of it's mine, but most of it's not... here's marge! -homer simpson

Last Friday night we were over at Courtney's house-sitting house and we watched this TV show, some kind of "America's Funniest Home Videos" isotope, which consisted of home videos of pets and children injuring themselves. (Satellite TV is a wasteland, my friends.) There is something so painful and hilarious about these kinds of shows-- the obese studio audiences, the un-funny lines the hosts use to introduce the videos, the cheeziness of the productions themselves (sets, lighting, etc)... it represents, like, the lowest common denominator of our culture.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. In my film class yesterday my professor was talking about WHITE HEAT, this James Cagney movie from the 40s (I think), and how it's impossible for contemporary audiences to imagine how transgressive the violence of that movie would have been at the time. I was trying to think of a modern-day equivalent and failing. This was my prof's point: there is nothing, no contemporary standard, to compare its shockingness, because we have exhausted all the possibilities of shockingness. And in a way that's kind of sad. The only way to go is back, like the Victorians.

Seriously. I wander around downtown like a lost person, holding an empty coffee cup, and try to decide if pop culture is really a place I want to live. Also on this note, I am watching TV shows on DVD in Spanish, because it's trippy educational fun. I'm already getting better at understanding those fast-talking native speakers. Unfortuantely my vocabulary acquisition is largely focused around vampires, demons, spells, and other Buffy-related verbiage, but at least I'm learning.

Also on Friday, we went to improv. They play a very imaginative coin-toss game (ie., to decide which team goes first) called "Rock Paper Anything," in which you can make up a gesture that stands for anything, and then the audience votes as to whose concept is more powerful. One of the actors impersonated, "The coveted Best Picture Oscar," and the other was, "RUST!" Rust won, of course. I love games in which there are no rules. It's total Calvinball.

To conclude, a conversation I had with my sister: she asked me some ALIAS plot-related question (we're watching Season II on DVD together), and I replied, "Why are you asking me? You know I never understand what's going on on this show. I only watch it for the outfits."

Thanks to Chris for sending precious readers my way. He's my favourite American.


i am not permanent
Tuesday, February 3, 2004 @ 09:59 p.m.

In an effort to make some extra money, I've started participating in as many psychological studies as I can find. This week I'm doing a psycholinguistics one and a reader response study one. I think of it as, like, donating blood or sperm-- only the blood and sperm of my MIND. It's good for my ego-- I am worth studying!-- and it pays better than any other job an undergrad could get.

Sometimes I start to panic because I don't have a grand plan, no career selected or grad program to which I've been preemptively admitted, no marketable skills to speak of, no housewares should I suddenly and unexpectedly have to move out of my parents' house. This freaks me out and I lie in my bed and imagine Future Jocelyn: unfulfilled, disorganized (a failure to plan! A plan to fail! Or something to that effect!), trying to cook without spatulas. At other times I think that probably, like everyone else, I will get my shit together-- or at least, enough to trick those around me, and that's the important thing.

But this is one of the freaking-out days, kind of. I think what brought it on is worrying about a summer job (I'm applying to be part of the city government's temp pool, of all things). What if everyone I know dismisses me with a pitying, "She tries way too hard," and I become one of those dispossessed people you see wandering around on Whyte Ave., with no people and no stuff? I'm not saying it will happen, but it could happen, and it's a scary thought, you know? That your future as you've always imagined it could just disappear.

I mean, yes, I'm very neurotic. It worked for Woody Allen, though. But on the other hand I don't like Woody Allen.

To completely change the subject-- and I think that's a good thing at this point-- I'm reading Douglas Coupland's MISS WYOMING, in hopes that he will someday recapture his MICROSERFS/GENERATION X glory, but it just doesn't happen. I still love his turns of phrase, his images, which can be so painfully modern-- he writes like someone marinated in the contemporary-- he makes me feel simultaneously ashamed to be alive and at the same time proud, because it seems there's no time as generous and tacky and sublime and absord as the present. But there's something so self-conscious about it, so forced, like he's actually a ghost who's observed contemporary society for a hundred years and has to write a term paper on it. If you can conceive of a situation in which a ghost had torwite a term paper-- which I can't-- at the moment.

I have a feeling this is going to be one of those entries I take off later, and replace it with something pithy, and I was going to give you an example, but I really can't think of anyting pithy right now. Thus the expounding. And the posturing. And the... sigh.


shake your body in time-- OK, I believe you!
Monday, January 26, 2004 @ 04:27 p.m.

Last night as I was coming home on the bus I was thinking that if I ever had a stuffed elephant I would name it Harry Elephante.

As part of my ongoing struggle not to eat such disgusting food all the time, I had grapes when I came home. But grapes are such a waste of time. It takes forever to eat them and half of them are mutated and then you're still hungry afterwards. That's why I gave up fruit in the first place.

I have given up on Super Mario Land, also, because (1) it is a big waste of time and (2) I think level 2-3 might be possibly related to my fish nightmares. That sounds ridiculous, but if there's one thing I've learned about my brain, it's that it IS ridiculous.


Love like a heart attack
Sunday, January 25, 2004 @ 12:22 a.m.

Tonight I was at this volunteer-y thing with Meghan and Courtney and we managed to avoid doing even a stitch of work. As we were leaving, one of the organizers tried to convince us to help with an upcoming fund-raising event:
Lady from the telethon: "But it's a casino. You're all 18, right?"
Jocelyn, Meghan and Courtney, appearing as a dishonest chorus: "No!"

It was like lying to telemarketers, which I do frequently.

My mom and I ordered more books over the internet. She puts them on her credit card and we don't tell anyone. It's our secret vice.


better living through chemistry
Wednesday, January 21, 2004 @ 10:20 p.m.

Jocelyn: "I didn't really do anything today..."
My dad: "Except watch Buffy."
Jocelyn: "You know, just because I don't work 20 hours a day, I don't think that gives you the right to criticize me. Not everyone has your work ethic."

And he apologized.

It was like opposite world.

And besides, it wasn't Buffy, it was Alias.

I sat in the hot tub with my parents a few minutes ago and looked at the fir trees and the deck furniture, all the horizontal surfaces covered with these rounded bars of snow, and it felt like were in the Alps or something, at a ski resort. In a James Bond movie. I could be a total ski bunny. I have an adorable hat. Anyway, it's been such a lazy few days, weeks even, and I feel like I haven't been moving at all; but instead of being bored or frustrated it feels nice, like the way I imagine you would feel if you took sedatives all the time. Lethargic. As if snow might settle on me as well. I know sooner or later my life will resume its fervour and franticness, but for right now, I'm happy to just stand here and watch the world fall apart.

Also, because it's so inspiring (according to James): I beat the Evil Seahorse Overlord of Super Mario Land level 2.


a strange fascination draws her closer to him!
Monday, January 19, 2004 @ 08:30 p.m.

"I can't back that lunch. Nutritional demerits."
"But it has fruit!"
"Those are marshmallows."

James and I watched SCARFACE (The original 1931 one, not the Al Pacino one) last night. We gave all the characters authentic-sounding Italian-American names, like "Joey Ravioli" and "Tony Spaghetti," based on the fact that the people in these movies eat nothing but pasta. Also, when a poor-but-honest looking immigrant complained that gangsters "give all of us a bad name," I whispered to James, "He represents the Italian-American Anti-defamation League." In spite of my irreverance, or possibly irreverence, I really liked the movie. It had subtext to spare, and Boris Karloff.

I've been having these nightmares every night that are seriously compromising my ability to live a normal life.

Ooh: I've kicked that dragon-thingie's ass several times now, and I am almost to the stage where I meet Evil SuperMarioLand Overlord #2. If that is in fact his real name.


Saturday's Girl
Saturday, January 17, 2004 @ 02:17 p.m.

Lion-dragon creature update: no progress. The lion-dragon thing continues to defeat Mario, undermine his self-esteem, and make him feel like less of a man. Therefore prompting him to consider buying penis-enhancement products over the Internet.

I'm at work, here with the books, and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I have to do this weekend, most of it of the "getting caught up on reading" variety. And some of it of the "watching Alias on DVD variety".

I got some chocolates with stuff in the middles-- booze, and various fruit-flavoured cremes-- so I ate half of each one, ostensibly looking for one I liked, and throwing the other halves away. It was very decadent of me (and by "decadent" i mean "ridiculous and wasteful and sort of satisfying.")


a good day to give it up
Thursday, January 15, 2004 @ 04:33 p.m.

As I think I mentioned, I am in an english class this semester with an acting component. I am a very shy person, and I do not take well to public displays of good-sports-person-ship; and I am incapable of having fun in that, "look! I'm embarrassing myself in public!" kind of way (except on the internet, interestingly). My group had to act today, and I went through the whole scene with a furious blush, like someone ashamed of how much space they take up or the timbre of their voice. But I did it. Because I am determined not to let the world get the better of me.

My Women Writers of the Romantic Period prof does this really funny thing. He begins explanations of the literary institution of the 1700s and 1800s this way: "In the Romantic period... before television..." as if offering a plausible explanation for why there is a literary institution, at all. It's sort of a funny thing to be explaining to English students. You know? Like, "OH... no TELEVISION... I get it."

I went to see BIG FISH and it's wonderful. Tim Burton is like my movie-director boyfriend. I have a feeling I was talking about it in an annoying way for 48 hours afterward. "Blah blah blah... distinct visual aesthetic... blah blah blah." Also, last night I rented one of the movies for my Gangster Films class, "Angels With Dirty Faces." I like it, and James liked watching it with me, because it gives him an excuse to pretend to be a gangster and shoot people with his fingers.

A strange conversation I had with the guy who works at Alternative Video on Whyte Ave.:
"You're Jocelyn, right?"
"Yeah... how did you know that? Is this Psychic Video?"
"Well, you just returned that video... and I'm stalking you."
"I've never had my own stalker before!"
"Actually I do it with one other guy. I just watch your house, he makes the phone calls with the heavy breathing."
"tag-team stalking is so efficient."

If anyone out there in the internet is thinking of stalking me, that guy beat you to it. Sorry. Maybe I suggest someone else? Anne Murray, perhaps, or Fergie?

I cannot, for the life of me, beat the firebal-throwing dragon at the very end of Super Mario Land level 1 (ont he old Gameboy James gave me for my birthday). It makes me feel so incompetent. I'm a modern girl! I can have a family and a career and a post-secondary education! I can stand up for myself and be assertive! But for the life of me I cannot defeat that fireball-throwing dragon-lion beast. He continually makes me into Little Mario, and then I cannot fireball him right back. Stupid technology.


until the end of the world
Monday, January 12, 2004 @ 07:09 p.m.

She's addicted to nicotine patches,/she's afraid of the light and the dark...


fun! free! nutritious!