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♥ "She's not my old lady, she's my special lady friend!" -Keith, Veronica Mars

♥ Walt: Yeah, it's very Kafkaesque.
Sophie: Cause it's written by Franz Kafka.
Walt Berkman: Right. I mean, clearly.
-Discussing The Metamorphosis, The Squid and the Whale

♥ "If you're captain of a shipwreck,/I'll be first mate..." -Neil Diamond

Photo at left Meghan Williamson 2006

Thursday, August 31, 2006 @ 02:46 p.m.

I know the customary title for entries in "blogs" is "hello, world," but i'm feeling a little tenuous.

A photo essay entitled "What I did on my summer vacation":

august 009
I went to the Vancouver Aquarium, and I saw, among other things, this large fish clearly capable (and willing) of eating a human hand. I love the aquarium. It helps me foster my my unhealthy love/hate relationship with fish. (Also, the concession stand there sells things like prosciutto sandwiches and spinach salads. It's so funny and yuppy-y.)

august 019
Also at the aquarium, I discovered my new goal in life: to have the life of a sea otter. In addition to being extremely cute, they get fed fresh seafood five times a day and lie around with their flippers in the air, being cute and amusing. When I see this lifestyle, I think, "Jocelyn." Covneniently, my new condo building has a pool. Perhaps I could make some papier-mache flippers.

august 021
Apparently the West Coast gives good tree.

august 022
And good harbour. This is Victoria.

august 039
At the rather amusingly named "Science World at the Telus World of Science" in Vancouver, we saw an exhibit of Egyptian history rendered in Legos. (This, for everyone who knows me, is precisely the type of experience I try to have on vacation.) I love the little Lego slaves. There was also a beach scene with a crocodile eating a minifig-cat, and when a woman I didn't know brought it to my attention, I couldn't help but laugh. This prompted an affronted, "That isn't funny!" from the woman, but I stand by my guns. A lego crodocile eating a lego cat is so funny.

OK, I'm moved into my new place, except I can only unpack in a comically inefficient way thanks to my still-broken arm. I start school on Tuesday. I may go shopping for frozen dinners of some kind on my way home from work today. I have no internet at home. Season 2 of Veronica Mars was pretty good. It's later, and I'm back, sort of. I'll be back even more in three days when the cast comes off.


PS (3:25 pm): So, I'm working... Email from my editor, on follow-up research needed for the textbook: "Background information on why there was such a demand for fish." (Which led to 17thcentury exploration of Atlantic Canada) Temptingly sassy answer: "Because it was oh so delicious."

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Monday, August 21, 2006 @ 09:41 p.m.

I'm going to Vancouver and Seattle. Then I'm moving.


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Sunday, August 20, 2006 @ 10:41 a.m.

I just wanted to say that all the information you need to write a grade 5 social studies textbook is on websites created by the Canadian government, and I think that's HOT. I love Library & Archives Canada, and I'm not afraid to shout it out loud.

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the creeping Canadian menace
Saturday, August 19, 2006 @ 09:59 p.m.

I hold my toothbrush in my mouth so i can put toothpaste on it with my good hand. if i hold it exactly in the middle, perpendicular to my nose, i can see it perfectly. an exercise in binocular vision.

i keep accidentally hitting keyboard shortcuts i didn't even know existed. it's like typing with one of those prepackaged slow-burning (slow-typing) firelogs.

i've been taking these over-the-counter sleeping pills and it's like heaven. except i didn't take one last night to see what would happen and i was awake for HOURS. just like old times. i was hoping i could somehow train my body to sleep by modeling normal behaviour for it. like my brain would somehow go, oh, so THIS is what i could be doing. now i understand where i went wrong. apparently neuroscience doesn't work that way.

James and i each bought a jaunty military hat today so i call it a qualified success. we wore them around dowtown and referred to ourselves as fidel and che.

recent good things: the movie word play, this american life online, 3 remaindered books for , watching ellen (for some reason i find that show strangely compelling), and a personally-made librarian shirt. i'm just waiting: for my new place, for my plane (to vancouver on tuesday), for my next paycheque, for season 2 of veronica mars, for a fresh semester, for the cast to come off. for the next thing, the better, easier, next thing.

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letters from the great beyond?
Tuesday, August 15, 2006 @ 02:15 p.m.

i write only short entries now, no messing around.

check out my old guestbook, someone is writing some kind of epic novel in it. it surpasses anything I am doing here.

it begins in may 2006. if this is someone trying to get my attention, i apologize for ignoring you for so long. i admire your... what's the word i'm looking for... commitment.

i think we should all email this person and ask plot and thematic questions. so, wait... what is karl a symbol for again?

deletia: TO MEN ANYTIME WRITE ME A LETTER I love to hear by men ok anytime as I am free and single lady.

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Monday, August 14, 2006 @ 07:45 a.m.

my knee collapsed and I fell down and broke a bone in my elbow. it's in a cast but not the kind people sign.

I can't type, and also, i'm in pain. i'll be back later.

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disshevelled notes from the moving planet
Saturday, August 12, 2006 @ 09:28 p.m.

Get it, moving planet? Like, the planet itself is moving and also I come from a world in which everyone is moving? whoa. If these were paper notes instead of virtual ones, they would be written on moving-box labels. And they would be wet with sweat and rain. And they would be lost, so you wouldn't be able to read them.

Just finished reading the August 06 issue of The Believer. I love this magazine but in a sort of masochistic way, like I love the way I read it and it makes me feel woefully simple-minded and uninformed. The articles mostly concern the arcane and esoteric. The interviews are with people I have never heard of. Well, except Steven Soderbergh. But that was an anomaly. And as always it makes me add books and books to my "to read" list, in spite of the fact that for the past week I have just been making my way, slowly but surely, through A Gentle Madness, a book that I have been reading since last Christmas. (Seriously.) My excuse is that it is a thousand pages long, and also sort of boring. Thus indicating that I am never going to get around to reading any of those other things.

On Monday I get to go on an expedition to pick up Courtney's new kitten and I am sort of excited about that. Also I get to thus miss the movers coming and taking away my parents' stuff. Hopefully by that time my participation in the logistical part of this operation will more or less be over.

Tonight I went to look after my friend Caleb, who is 7 now. We watched The Princess Bride and played a particularly ill-coordinated game of badminton. (In his case, "trampolineminton.") He loves Count Rugen. I asked him if he wants to be a Count when he grows up and he agreed wholeheartedly.

I'm ordering this shirt from Glarkware as it concerns both pirates AND Veronica Mars. Also Season 2 comes out in about a week and a half and I have been scheming as to the most efficient way to get my hands on it, as I will be traveling at the time.

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How do you take a picture of your own digital camera?
Thursday, August 10, 2006 @ 10:49 a.m.

I've been making improvements to my office. Check it out. Now instead of sitting on the floor like a plebeian chump, I have a box of books with one of the dog's blankets on it to sit on.

Meaning that the dog has to sit on the couch.

crafty 004

crafty 006

It doesn't provide very good back support though. I may have to collect worker's compensation at some point in the future.

Meghan, if you are reading this, my mom wants to know if you want the coffee grinder visible on the right of this picture (in a box).

The Lebanese refugees haven't come to pick up their stuff yet. But we went to our storage locker yesterday, and now we don't have any furniture. In fact, when they come they will take away that couch, and then the dog will have to lie on the floor.

Like a plebeian chump's dog.

The Five (or possibly "5ive" or something) song "Everybody Get Up" proves that not everything involving Joan Jett can be good. There is 99 cents I will never get back.

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More of the irreverance you love
Wednesday, August 9, 2006 @ 12:57 p.m.

Because my parents are downsizing drastically, they called a local charity to come and pick up a bunch of furniture and kitchenware and stuff that doesn't fit into my family's new, less materialistic lifestyle. The woman from the Mennonite Centre for Newcomers (which collects this stuff for recent immigants to Canada) said that they have a huge demand right now because of the huge number of people who have arrived from Lebanon with nothing but the clothes on their backs. This led, organically, to the following designation while we were sorting stuff last night: "Not even Lebanese refugees want that."

(Sub-point... they're probably not really refugees, I think they're more likely Canadian citizens or they wouldn't have gotten into the country so fast. But "not even former residents of Lebanon holding Canadian citizenship want that" does not have the same ring to it.)

They took away my computer desk to put into storage so as I write this I am sitting on the floor, keyboard in my lap and mouse and monitor on a little coffee table. I also have the phone and answering machine here in a basket on the floor. (As well as a coffee grinder, four empty wicker baskets, some pop cans, and my dog.) I like to think of this little 16-square-foot area of laminate as "my office." And I have plenty of room to stretch out my gimpy leg. Most furniture is so superfluous!

I'm thinking of buying a MacBook for the following four reasons: 1. everyone I know (almost) has one. 2. they are pretty. 3. I thought they were significantly more expensive than PC laptops but they're really not. 4. free iPod nano! Window shopping on the internet is fun.

Although in this case it's Mac shopping, not Windows shopping.

Tee hee.

Oh, also: if I had a laptop I could go work at a FREAKIN TABLE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON.

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i know that it will break your heart
Tuesday, August 8, 2006 @ 10:08 a.m.

I hurt my knee in a cleaning mishap and it swelled up in a very theatrical way and now I walk with a slight limp. It's extremely romantic. But it sort of hurts, also.

I went to Heritage Days and it made me a little bitter about my lack of heritage, just as it does every year. I told James that I think if we ever have kids we should enrol them in some kind of ethnic dancing class. It doesn't matter what culture, as long as those tykes can dance the dance of someone's ancestors.

I've been playing Sim City 3000 because it's on my parents' computer and I'm sad to say that my profit instincts have overcome my honourable socialist intentions. I even built a giant gold statue of myself on a hillside. However, my city does have a remarkably large and well-funded library system, with over 2 million books. (That's a large collection for a public library. Edmonton's library system, which serves a population of just less than a million people, has less than two million books.)

crafty 001

Out of boredom, plus access to my parents' large stash of crafty supplies and tools, I made a clock out of a plastic sushi plate from Superstore and some chopsticks. And also another pillow, because making pillows is the only thing that takes away the pain. (I made the one on the top. The one on the bottom comes from IKEA. Although, I did make the pillow inside and I stuffed it with the guts of other pillows. Pillow cannibalism!)

crafty 002

I didn't update my website for a long, long time because I was busy painting and packing and dealing with the madness. And it turns out that it's just as well, because I'm boring.

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What we have learned: I am the world's laziest, weirdest, dumbest, craftiest girl
Thursday, August 3, 2006 @ 10:09 p.m.

I have hot glue on my pants. But I also have a clock made out of a sushi plate, with chopsticks for numbers. So those two things cancel each other out.

I also have a timesheet spreadsheet I made for one of my jobs, which counts time spent in MINUTES and instantly translates that number into DOLLARS. This is the only way I can motivate myself to work, by watching the amount of my next cheque go up. Every half hour or so I load the spreadsheet, add the time I've worked, and watch the total go up. It is the ONLY WAY. Isn't that pathetic?

We went on this, like, marathon trip to IKEA and I'm exhausted. Exhausted way beyond the exertion involved in a trip to IKEA, even if someone DID steal three items out of our cart while we were in the as-is section. I was so tired at the end I had to buy a hot dog for 50 cents.

Gyah. OK. Time to work for a bit do I can update my timesheet.

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Thursday, August 3, 2006 @ 12:48 p.m.

I sent a couple of books to the Pass Christian Library in Mississippi through the Dewey Donation System. This library lost its whole collection due to flooding caused by Hurricane Katrina. Isn't that sad? But now they will be getting a couple of new books, including the MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers (I know, I'm a nerd, but if library school has taught me one thing it's that we are nothing without properly formatted citations, NOTHING). And that's happy.

Donate some books. It will make hot, tightly-wound sexpot librarians want to make out with you.

Pandering to stereotypes since 1999,

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My prowess is unmatched!
Thursday, August 3, 2006 @ 11:29 a.m.

Reasons I like James # 1,965: When I bring my dog to visit him at his apartment, he gives Toby a water bowl with an ice cube in it.

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Wednesday, August 2, 2006 @ 02:01 p.m.

Los Mel-Tones, this surf rock band I used to like a long time ago when I was about 20 (giggle) has their whole epic album on iTunes for only .99. I may be the first person to ever download it. 36 songs for ... that's much cheaper than most music on iTunes. I also downloaded an 8.5-minute Tori Amos song for $.99, so I'd say I'm getting my money's worth in terms of online music today. As I type this, I am doing my surf rock epileptic dance.

LIfe back at my parents' place is weird, dude. There is no good food and everyone is so loud all the time and I wish I had my CDs and my MP3s. (Thus the iTunes binge. I made two new mix CDs for my period of homelessness, but I accidentally packed one of them, and I can only listen to the other one so many times.) I feel like a nun re-entering the world after many cloistered years, and finding that it's the same place I remember only louder, harsher, brighter, and bolder.

I'll trade you a mix CD for a 1" button made from The Golden Book of Knowledge, Internet.

Also I think I might want to be a film archivist when I grow up.

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The Canadian government hates me.
Monday, July 31, 2006 @ 12:55 p.m.

Reasons my passport application is unacceptable:

  • My boyfriend cannot serve as a reference, although if I had just written "friend," it would have been fine.
  • the signature on my social insurance card does not match the signature on my credit card, possibly because I signed my social insurance card when I was about 10, and I didn't have a credit card at the time.
  • I only authorized a payment of , when getting a passport costs , thus making it so expensive to leave this country that the only people who can afford it are ten-year-olds with credit cards.

The reason I wanted to get a passport is that I need current government-issued ID, but it turns out you can't get a passport without current government-issued ID. Ironic! The end result of this fiasco is that I have to get government-issued ID with a signature on it, but I don't have a driver's license because I don't drive, so I have to get a provincial ID card. This will in turn cost me . Because of the newer, more secure ID cards, I can't pick it up when I apply any more, they have to mail it to me at my permanent address (which I don't have) within two weeks (thus making it impossible for me to also get a passport before I leave for the US). This simplifies the whole process, because it means that basically I have neither time nor money to prove to anyone who I am or where I live, thus I can never leave my parents' house, and also I might be a terrorist.

Oh, and to find out this information I had to listen to a phone message that kept reiterating: "This call may be recorded for quality purposes. There are over 25 people ahead of you." Wow! That's a lot of disgruntled Canadians trying to have their relatively simple needs met! Quality purposes, my foot.

This is why I say the Canadian government hates me.

This whole day is making me an extremely grouchy puppy.

Yeah, I am staying with my parents again and sleeping on this little single bed and I keep whopping my legs on the wall in my sleep. I have no permanent address. My stuff is in a big pile in a neighbour's garage. And I will never be able to leave because, as I have mentioned, I have no proof of my identity and the world is not safe for me. Everything is making me depressed.

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What do you get the sadistic girl who has everything?
Thursday, July 27, 2006 @ 11:35 a.m.

A set of carnivorous plants for desk carnage. And it comes in a cute little terrarium! I wish I worked in an Office-Space-like office so I could get real mileage out of something like this.

Argh, I'm so hungry but I have no food or tools to make food. So I just eat popsicles. Funny thing about popsicles? They're not very filling! Even if they do have tiny shards of fruit in them.

Today is moving day! Boxes packed: 45. Boxes remaining to be packed: 4 (or so). But I accidentally packed my DVD remote, so I can only watch DVD features accessible by pushing either "stop" or "play." No FFWDing or RWNDing.

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goodbye, cruel internet.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006 @ 09:10 p.m.

boxes packed: 38. You can totally tell what the most important things in your life are, because they're the last ones you pack. Like, I'm thinking boxes 1-20 are full of stuff I don't even want or need. I could throw them away and probably not even miss whatever was in there. On the other hand, I move tomorrow and my computer and internet are still hooked up. I still have the means to mix cocktails. And I can collage. I just can't shower.

For those of you playing along at home, tomorrow is moving-out-of-my-apartment day. I think it is going to go well because I have water bottles in the fridge and popsicles in the freezer. For 30 days after, I will be officially homeless and hopeless, at least as far as Canada Post is concerned. Like a pirate! And then, on August 28th, I will be moving into my new place. I know what you're thinking: Jocelyn, why move twice? And the answer is, at this point: because I'm a moron. A moron who couldn't really afford to pay an extra month's rent.

Don't cry for me, internet. All the places I'm staying (my parents', James') will have internet, and I'll still be working on-campus and thus checking my e-mail every ten minutes to avoid doing any actual work. My biggest problem at the moment is that I can order Veronica Mars Season II from Amazon, but where would they ship it to come August 22nd?

Wish me luck. I'll obviously need it.

Hasta la escrita,

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Bring my baby back to me
Monday, July 24, 2006 @ 03:59 p.m.

I think I lost my USB flash drive. I can't find it anywhere. I drew a little picture of it on the whiteboard at school with a note to please put it in my mailbox. But at the same time I have this nagging feeling that I just put it someplace weird, probably while thinking, "I'm moving, I should put this [insert weird place] so I don't lose track of it while all my stuff is being moved around." Oh Squishy. Please come back to me! (Note: One of my co-workers, upon connecting my USB flash drive to her computer: "huh. That's funny. Because it's actually not squishy at all.")

James and I went to see Clerks II and I thought it was lame. In fact, I have been thinking about it, and I have decided that I don't even really like Kevin Smith movies. I think of him as being a cool guy, but when I actually examine my opinion, I realize it is founded on nothing. Clerks II was so self-indulgent and poorly acted. It was just an excuse for no-account, weak-chinned, directionless thirty-something men to fantasize that they could someday, somehow, be romantically linked to Rosario Dawson. Plus, before the movie itself came on were trailers for the three worst movies ever made. Not much of an endorsement.

I have also decided the same thing (ie., overrated and I like them for no reason) about the Wilson brothers. I think I only liked them because they had a kind of Wes Anderson sheen, but it's wearing off now. Like, a lot.

OK, enough of my complaining about every movie ever made. Although, it's not entirely my fault. People should stop making such stupid movies. And other people (*cough* Kristen and James *cough*) should stop making me watch them. (And in return, I will stop linking imdb pages to mundane words.)

I might be a big nerd, but I love the archives of the CBC which are now online. Were they always? How did I manage to miss this up to this point?

I invented a new cocktail, consisting entirely of things that are left over in my apartment: lingonberry syrup, 7-up, and vodka. I just need a zingy name for it-- something CSI-themed would be appropriate. ("Ligature Marks"? "Lingonberry-Epithelial delight"?) Discuss.

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like a crazy spider monkey!
Saturday, July 22, 2006 @ 07:28 p.m.

Sometimes Lorelai on Gilmore Girls reminds me an awful lot of myself. I mean, she's cleverer (because she is a fictional character, and has a team of writers writing her repartee rather than a single tired girl) and hotter, but there are these moments of distinct similarity. In an episode I watched yesterday she said something that could have, and probably has at some point, come from my own mouth: "Hey! Let's have ice cream! I'm bored!" It's like listening in the mirror.

I learned a new word today: burke. It means, to kill someone without leaving physical evidence on the body. I'm not sure of how official a word it is though. I learned it from TV, so, it's anybody's game.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: SO. FREAKING. HOT. It's all I can do to lift my lemon water to my mouth, let alone type.

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With lemon
Thursday, July 20, 2006 @ 02:14 p.m.

Until yesterday, I had never encountered the word "invalid" used as a verb (see sense 3 here), and then yesterday I saw it used twice in two different places! Weird! (As in: She invalided out of the army and spent the rest of her life working at Burger King. Of course, I know that human brains are insanely good at recognizing patterns, even when none exist. Scully told me on an old X-Files rerun we watched a couple weeks ago.

Also the Internet is making me feel very superior today. I just read a little blurb on someone's website about the Rufus Wainwright song One Man Guy (which as I believe I may have mentioned in the past I am obsessed with) and the author interepreted it as a re-affirmation of love for a departed lover. In spite of, well, all the lyrics. And the whole tone of the song. Stupid internet!

I have almost succeeded in converting my bachelor apartment into a one-bedroom with a wall of moving boxes. It's quite exciting actually. It makes me feel like I live in a castle. Or a box factory.

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Dodged a bullet there.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006 @ 02:34 p.m.

I always thought I was going crazy, because I couldn't keep the villains straight in the early Bond movies. (Well, among other reasons.) It turns out that is because Blofeld Of S.P.E.C.T.R.E (or possibly S.P.E.C.T.E.R.) (the basis for Dr. Evil in the Austin Powers movies, and, I am realizing right now, Dr. Claw from Inspector Gadget!) was played by eight different actors.

Apparently there's a name for this: Darrin syndrome.


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you don't make it easy
Wednesday, July 19, 2006 @ 09:21 a.m.

I am not feeling well. A few minutes ago the dangerous words "working from home" traveled across my mind. We know what lies in that direction: naps and DVDs and macaroni.

I wrote a sonnet in honour of my newest piece of kitchen equipment.

Ode on a Grecian (well, technically Italian) Urn (or Skillet)

oh pan.
oh red lagostina frying pan!
what was my life before I bought you on sale?
everything i put in you
you cook with such great caution.
you cook sauces like they were diamond sauces
eggs like they were faberge eggs.
you are gentler and non-stickier than the gentlest and non-stickiest lover.

you are more like a dream of a pan
than a pan itself.
my stove and my food
are hardly worthy of you.
yet i need you.
never leave me.

Is it still bad teenage poetry if I'm 23?

I am taking my bike in to the shop today, finally, to have the front wheel replaced. So in a few days I may write a companion poem that will begin something like this: Oh bike. oh bike with your pretty streamers, so insouciant, so free./to me you represent the greatest of all possible opportunities./And also the fact that there are losers in my back alley who steal bike wheels./Because they hate me

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just a matter of time
Sunday, July 16, 2006 @ 10:48 p.m.


Using the magic of google maps, James and I found satellite photos of his parents' farm, and, in turn, their buffalo. This is what the buffalo look like from space.


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Wherever you may ramble
Saturday, July 15, 2006 @ 12:04 p.m.

I've just finished reading D M Cornish's Monster Blood Tattoo, a kind of young adult steampunk novel lent to me by the lovely Courtney. It's so great I feel compelled to tell the world! It has fun, squinty ink drawings and maps, two things I always like in a book, PLUS adorable orphans, despicable villains, and funny-talking monsters. And it reminds me pleasantly of China Mieville's The Scar. But where are the other ones? Trilogy means THREE! Even I know that.

The other big news in my life, and I use the term "big" loosely, is that I splurged on a pretty red Lagostina frying pan, which I figured I deserved for no reason other than my own adorableness. It makes me SO HAPPY. It cooks things so evenly and nothing sticks to it. Hey, I never claimed these little peeks into my life would be particularly enlightening or engaging.

As you were.

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cheer up, emo kid
Friday, July 14, 2006 @ 04:04 p.m.

If you ever wonder why I never, ever, get any work done, it is because my thought processes work like this.

2:55 OK, time to settle down and do some work. I'll just do something else for five minutes so I can start working right at 3, that will be easier to remember for my timesheet.

2:56 Hmm, I have a lot of folders and paint swatches and documents and things on my desk that I need to keep track of while I'm moving. I should tidy up a little bit...

2:57 Or, better, I should make a little portfolio that I can use to carry all my stuff around and stay organized! And I should do it right now!

4:03 Cool.


it's tacky, it's orange, it closes with a bizarre button and ribbon thingy (like an interdepartmental memo envelope) because I couldn't find my velcro. It has little stars to remind me to stay emo, because even my most spurrious and poorly-conceived projects have patches. It's perverse yet cute. I like it. It reminds me of myself.

[4:04-4:06 update website. See this website update.]

4:07 OK, I should do some work now. I won't even wait until 4:10.

4:08 Or I could make some napkins.

this little procrastination update has been brought to you be a new, more organized, Jocelyn! And also let it be known that my bad decision-making is sponsored in part by the fact that I am trying to drink all the miscellaneous small quantities of alcohol in my apartment so I don't have to move them. Thus, weird "Sour Puss Jinx" coolers (which themselves were purchased, on sale, in a moment of bizarre inspiration) at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. I fear no alcohol-and-sewing-machine mishap. After all, it's very, very hard to sew your own finger.

Finally: I went shopping for a housewarming present for my sister today. Man, it's discouraging. Every store I went into, I kept thinking, does SHE like this? or do I like this? This is why gift receipts were invented: for ignorant, insensitive, bad-decision-making, tacky-portfolio-making, weird-clearance-alcohol-that-tastes-kind-of-like-cough-syrup drinking sisters. That are jerks.

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midnight hockey game
Thursday, July 13, 2006 @ 06:30 p.m.

I woke up this morning to an incredibly loud thunderclap, rolled over to look at my alarm clock, and the screen was blank. The power was out for almost an hour. It was so bizarre, because I had nothing particular scheduled for today, and with the absence of electricity it seemed like there was NOTHING to do. No cooking breakfast, no checking email, no sewing, no TV, no music, no fan, and no mechanical monkey (OK, I don't really have a mechanical monkey). I wrote in my paper journal with an old-school pen, and ate a granola bar, because I literally could not think of anything else to do. I was thinking about how our pre-electricity ancestors must have been so BORED, but it occurs to me that they were probably busy, what with their (a) time-consuming religious beliefs (b) back-breaking agricultural labour and (c) neat hand-crank-operated kitchen gadgets, such as coffee grinders.

Anyway, I went to the bathroom in the dark (scary), wrote in the half-light for awhile, and sat on my bed contemplating just how SILENT it was. When the electricity came back on, there was this sudden whoosh/hum in my apartment which couldn't be directly attributed to any single item, it just started SUDDENLY and then it was as if it had never stopped. The hum of modernity. I know I'm a big-city girl through the through, but I find it comforting. One hour of power outage and I'm already contemplating how to survive the rioting and looting, and, inevitably, the coming winter. I'm thinking thoughts like, "should I be trying to start some sort of bonfire in the kitchen sink?" and looking around for makeshift weapons. And wondering if I would be capable of stalking and killing any small animals, should the need arise. The closest I've ever come to wilderness survival is reading Hatchet.

The other thing that happened to me is that I was thinking profound thoughts at my class last night, which is something that almost never happens. We watched another cheezy 80s LIS (library & information studies) documentary, this one about the tenuous future of information captured on digital media. (Into the Future: On the Preservation of Knowledge in the Electronic Age. Terry Sanders, dir.) This might seem like a problem that will only concern librarians and other people of an easily inflamed/boring nature, but in fact that may not be the case. My professor told us about this project, in which linguists are involved in an attempt to label nuclear waste sites in Nevada so that civilizations thousands of years in the future will know not to open them. We all know what evil can result from opening sealed vaults from ancient civilizations: The Rock, for one. Imagine (a) governments actually showing this much foresight (b) the recognition that we, ourselves, will not be around to protect the future.

Then, because thinking profound thoughts in school makes me profoundly (ha) uncomfortable, I decided to drop the class. No, really.

I'm (sung to the tune of "Wishin' and Hopin'") packing, and cleaning, and sorting, and tossing. It may seem like a physical impossiblity, but it seems my stuff actually won't fit in my apartment once it is packed into boxes. Illogical, you say? I scoff! Illogicality is my bread and butter. And yes, that is a word. I checked.

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we said we were sorry.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006 @ 09:00 a.m.


It was time.

In preparation for this move, I have thrown away a good deal, including most of my mixtape collection. This may seem sad, in fact is sad, but I never listen to them and I kept a selection of favourites for sentimental reasons. Apparently digital media is the future! However, to remain in the spirit of mixtapeage, I am listening to a bunch of CDs I haven't in years-- REM, Blue Rodeo, Dashboard COnfessional, Kristin Hersh.

Yesterday I also went through a bunch of old photos and cards and letters and threw away a good deal of that, too. I always feel like I'm obliged to keep all this memorabilia, except the reality is I don't like looking at it now and I doubt I ever will. The past is painful, or at its most benign makes me cringe. I prefer the present.

Last night James and I went for dinner at my parents' place with my sister. My parents weren't there because they're at a conference in Europe. The family that bought the house came with a contractor to check out the possibility of removing some walls, and so their kids could choose their new bedrooms. We were meeting our house's new family. We sat there eating dinner while they were wandering around, talking kitchen islands and contemplating taking out the lovingly installed oak hardwood. It's always sad losing our favourite buildings to new people, even though I'm sure they're no better or worse than us. It's hard to remember that houses are only ours for awhile, that they outlast us. Because in an immediate way all they ever feel like is home, or not-home. We never think of the people who preceded us.

But will their dad be at the bakery when it opens on Saturday mornings to buy croissants? Will they put their TV in the basement, where TVs belong, or in the living room? Will they take down our basketball net? (Their kids are young enough to use a basketball net, so it might be spared.) Will they want to plant a proper garden, and therefore rip out the raspberries that currently take up all of it? Will they be nice to our neighbour, and open his more difficult jars and write his more difficult cheques for him? (He's almost blind.) Are there enough bedrooms for their mom to fill one up with her books? You see, the possibilities are troubling. And we, meanwhile, will be homeless, as a family. Or we will have an over-abundance of homes.

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