she looks like eve marie saint in on the waterfront
as she reads simone de beauvoir in her american circumstance
her heart, heart's like crazy paving
upside down and back to front
she says ooh, it's so hard to love
when love was your great disappointment
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You make my hips buck, baby...
Thursday, April 15, 2004 @ 09:42 p.m.

On the onion av club: evaluating comic strips. I like what they had to say about Hagar the Horrible, which is indeed such a Horrible comic strip that it's the only one I never read. (sexist jokes, totally unfunny AND pointy hats-- a bad combination.)

Other Notable Qualities: The younger Browne doesn't do continuous stories, but Hagar's occasional appearance in a dungeon or on a desert island suggests that the strip could be read as one long, 21 Grams-like fractured narrative.

And, in the comic strip that is Canadian politics: New Democratic Party MP Svend Robinson steps down after being caught shoplifting. That's right, shoplifting. Will the amusement never cease? Actually, now that I read this article, I feel sort of sorry for the guy.

I'm still working on my paper on Thomas Otway. The two plays I'm comparing (Venice Preserv'd and The Orphan) are weirdly weird. I think he has that too-common malady among English playwrights, the Roman Empire Fixation. (Hello! You do not belong to the Roman Empire! This is a lie you are telling to yourselves!) (on google: 2,400 hits for TO; 61 for me. He wins.)

"Of Thomas Otway, one of the first names in the English drama, little is known; nor is there any part of that little which his biographer can take pleasure in relating."
-Samuel Johnson, Lives of the English Poets

There you have it, folks. Otway is pathetic too! That's why I'm writing a term paper about him.


cut your hair
Thursday, April 15, 2004 @ 02:50 p.m.

Jocelyn: "Do you want a stamp that matches your envelope?"
Post office customer: "Sure."
Jocelyn: "Work is boring, so I have to make my own fun."

I know April showers bring May flowers, but what do April snowstorms bring?

A month or so ago, my family adopted a foster child through World Vision. Her name is Gloria and she lives in the Democratic Republic of Congo. She sent us a picture and a drawing yesterday. This is pretty cool. However, I am ashamed to admit that I keep thinking of Ndugu in the movie About Schmidt... as if my experiences were not legimitately happening except in the context of being from movies. That's pathetic.

So, there you have it, folks. I'm pathetic. I just thought you should know.


Wednesday, April 14, 2004 @ 08:29 a.m.

I don't have to do anything until this clears up.


I'm sorry, mr. jones
Monday, April 12, 2004 @ 01:42 p.m.

Angel: "But it's haunted!"
Cordelia: "But it's RENT-CONTROLLED!"

I am totally making out with the long weekend. However, it has recently come to my attention that I have a final on Wednesday. As i told Meghan, "I should probably read the book... or review my notes... or something." (I quote myself now, all the time. Cute, huh?)

The word of the day today was "simulacrum," and Mirriam-Webster gave what I thought was a very unsatisfying definition.

Do I talk about movies too much? Am I boring you all? Is anyone out there?



can you vague that up for me?
Saturday, April 10, 2004 @ 11:24 a.m.

James and I went to see HELLBOY yesterday. It had gotten some good reviews and I was expecting it to be OK-- not that I ever really like those monster-action-movies, but I thought it would be at least OK. It was terrible. It's one of a number of movies I've seen lately that is fun to watch visually, and aesthetically-- the sets are cool, the cinematography, etc., they clearly spent a kajillion dollars on it-- but the story, the characters, and the dialogue make me want to kill myself. It's such a waste.

Also I delivered a great rant on anti-intellectualism and fake working class credibility in movies after watching half an hour of Dirty Dancing. "I mean, I'm not working class! If I were in that movie I'd be one of the absurd frat boys! So why would I want to watch a movie that's trying to tell me I'm Patrick Swayze? Basically, it's just a big lie that movies tell us to make us feel like we have street cred." Then I had the sudden, crippling sense that I hate everything in pop culture too much to even think about it anymore. But what else is there? I mean, pop culture is all that's left to be offered. I hate the way the world manipulates us and makes us choose.

Jocelyn: "Am I too critical? Am I annoying because I criticize everything all the time?"
James: "Just today."

I have two more papers to write, but clearly I am not going to write them today. It's such a beautiful day and I might ride my bike somewhere later. Also I think I'll see my friends, and meet Meghan's new dog. My bad mood of last week is entirely gone. Suddenly all these stresses have vanished. Classes are over; my house renovations are finished; etc. It's like a commercial for massage therapy, or something. Also my mom and I are not teaching Sunday School anymore. We did it all year, but last week the kids in our class made both of us cry by the end of the class. So we turned in our resignation. Also I thought there should be an announcement printed in the church bulletin: "Congratulations to the 5-year-olds' Sunday School class, who made both of their teachers cry." So that everyone would know about it, you know? Because I don't think the parents in our church know what absolute nightmares their children are.

Oh yeah, so it's Easter weekend. In my life this means Harry Potter, reruns of Angel, walking my dog, mini Toblerone bars, and Settlers of Catan. I sometimes think there's a religion-shaped hole in my life.

"Do I need to worry about you, Bob?"
"Only if you want to."


we'll find a cure for all our bad days
Thursday, April 8, 2004 @ 08:03 p.m.

So. I've been on an extended leave of absence. Just pretend I was visiting my guru or swimming in bottled water or something.

This afternoon I came home from work and didn't know what to do, since classes are over and it's too early (and warm!) to start studying for finals or writing my last two papers. So I asked myself, What would the Sims do? and the path became clear. What do the Sims always do? THEY GET IN THEIR HOT TUB! So that's what I did. With the most recent Harry Potter book. And it was everything I thought it would be.

I'm probably back for awhile now. But not at this moment, because I have to go watch Lost In Translation which I just bought on DVD because I couldn't wait anymore for it to be lent to me.


I'm not winking at you; I just have something in my eye.
Saturday, April 3, 2004 @ 02:57 p.m.

"Ach. Stay off the grass!" -Groundskeeper Willy's sign on The Simpsons

Nothing is going well. I hate hate hate everything. Except my friends. And Simpsons. (Stupid sexy Flanders!)


you don't have to say you love me, just be close at hand
Wednesday, March 31, 2004 @ 04:57 p.m.

How did it get to be only 5:00? Seriously, it feels like I've been up for ten years. Only simpsons-time.

I am working on this paper, The ideal female political subject and imperialism in the Wild Irish Girl and Little Henry and his Bearer (that's an abstract, not the actual title, if that was the actual title I would just kill myself now), and I'm trying REALLY hard to make it good. You know what that means: disappointment to come!

Also it's everyone's birthday this week: James', and Courtney's, and Kristen's (my sister). Lots of birthday-related fun. Also I love giving people presents, even though all I ever give people is books and CDs.

It snowed last night but now it feels like spring again.


It has recently come to my attention that my website sucks. Oh well.
Sunday, March 28, 2004 @ 09:32 p.m.

Apparently I still get referrals from my list oh-so-long-ago on girlboy. Am I still looking for this boy? Well, who isn't? I've noticed that still no one tells me stories, and I'm very sleepy tonight.

Settlers of Cattan.
term papers.
tearing up the old flooring including meticulously nailed-down stair treads and fake-brick red lino from the 1970s.
me so tired.


weekendage: it's like bondage, only better.
Friday, March 26, 2004 @ 05:51 p.m.

I went to see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind yesterday. Is it ever great. I love that it's so cerebral in some ways, and yet so emotionally intense and engaging. And almost science-fictiony and yet it functions entirely as a realistic film. Go see it! On a related point, I've become a bit obsessed with the messageboards on imdb... because most of the things people post are so moronic. (Like the imdb topic: "old people think this movie is stupid.") It makes me want to get my own account and point out how moronic people are being, but then I would just be stepping into the fray. You know? It's so absurd. I shouldn't let myself be drawn in.

Also: A Widow for One Year (or rather, as I suspect, the first act of A Widow For One Year) has been made into a film, "The Door In the Floor." (The trailer was in front of Eternal Sunshine.) Thus I prepare to have my heart broken by another John Irving adaptation.

Sooooo. They're building this LRT extension right on the university campus, and every morning my bus goes by the construction site. And there are these huge piles of machine parts, some of which are enormous... they make the construction workers crawling over them seem tiny. I imagine they are constructing a huge robot which will lift the LRT trains up and put them back down on the correct track.

Written on the seat in front of me on the bus:

No man is worth the tears.
And the one who is,
Won't make you cry.

It was a funny thing to write. I mean, is anyone going to read that quote and go, "yeah... I have to leave my husband! He's not worth the tears!" Also, why attribute it? Anyway, the world is a cosmic perplexion.


Enough brooding.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004 @ 08:31 a.m.

It's obscene.


I don't have to update if I don't want to
Tuesday, March 23, 2004 @ 09:22 a.m.

John: But this is the Rex Mars Atomic Discombobulator. Don't you just love the graphics on this box?
Homer: No. How can you love a box, or a toy or graphics? You're a grown man.
John: It's camp!
[Homer stares nonplussed]
The tragically ludicrous? The ludicrously tragic?
Homer: Oh, yeah. Like when a clown dies.
John: Well, sort of. But I mean more like inflatable furniture or "Last Supper" TV trays, or even this bowling shirt. [John is wearing Homer's "Pin Pals" t-shirt] Can you believe somebody gave this to goodwill?



she totally lied about how far
Wednesday, March 17, 2004 @ 09:59 a.m.

Good morning, shiny happy internet.

Hmmm... well, I have this sense all the time now, that things are either going really well and I'm about to suddenly become pure light, or something; and the rest of the time I feel like crying. That's weird, isn't it? How well things are going varies from minute to minute.

I'm applying for a research assistantship and I'm having to track down professors and my boss for letters of reference. It's very frustrating for me. I'm not really an aggressive person and I hate being like, "Hello, person in a position of authority, would you please do me favours and write nice things about me? And could you have it done by Friday because there's a deadline?"

I should have letters of reference from people who read my website. "Jocelyn seems lazy and a little crazy, based on what I know. But she sent me an email once. Hire her!"

I read an article in the newspaper this morning about an American-born panda who's been sent to China in hopes of her mating. The Chinese zoo where the panda is living is showing her nature videos of pandas mating to try to get her in the mood. Panda porn! On Salon-- an older article about the same program. Warning: contains fairly explicit, anthropomorphic panda sex.


having trouble with the ladies? We can help
Monday, March 15, 2004 @ 10:46 p.m.

"Because opportunity knocks, but if you're not paying attention... or if you're napping on the couch, or smoking crack cocaine, or whatever... then [you'll miss it]." -My Enlgish 450 professor, on something I can't remember now.

"the 'diplomatic corps,' not 'diplomatic convoy.' They don't line up and go places together!" -Alex Trebec, correcting a foolish Jeopardy contestant who answered the question wrong (questioned the answer wrong? whatever).

"Assignment(s) not handed in. Often off task/time not used wisely... Achievement below potential." -My grade 9 report card, on my progress in French 9 IB. Which I have since realized is a metaphor for my entire life. I mean, "often off task"? This is the girl we know and love. And "Achievement below potential" is like my personal motto.

I read this Robert Warshow essay, THE GANGSTER AS TRAGIC HERO, and it's kind of sublime.


hello, internet!
Wednesday, March 10, 2004 @ 07:45 p.m.

I am the #1 hit for websites that looks nice on Yahoo. You are so jealous of me right now.


still no job; clean out eavestroughs
Wednesday, March 10, 2004 @ 09:09 a.m.

Yesterday as I walked across campus, I noticed a trail of blood from SUB, across Quad, and into CAB. I assumed it was some kind of stunt put on by students-- a tuition metaphor about maximum tuition increases every year "bleeding students dry" perhaps? But it turns out, no, it's just a stabbing. And by "just a stabbing" I mean "oh my God." However, the guy walked all the way from Cameron Library to the medical clinic, so I don't think he was too badly injured. But still. I am ideologically opposed to people getting stabbed on campus where I go to school.

I wrote my last midterm yesterday. I think it went pretty well; I wrote the longest exam-paper I've ever written, about 12 pages (meticulously double-spaced). Now I have to start working on term papers, of which I have three to write. But I am not worried; I am not overly concerned.

We're studying PERSUASION in my Engl450 class right now and it's funny, to me, how attached people get to the characters. The professor dared to suggest that after the novel ends, Wentworth returns to fighting in the Napoleonic wars and get killed by a cannon. There was an instant backlash in the class. "That could never happen! It wouldn't be fair!" I think this always tends to happen. I don't know what it is about Austen, but she manages to make readers really committed to her characters. I, for one, will watch the 6-hour movie of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE just to see them kiss at the end; and that is not natural.


It really seemed like it would work
Sunday, March 7, 2004 @ 10:17 p.m., aside from having a very strange name, is an interesting website that ranks specific links and people as they are picked up by different webloggers. It really demonstrates how information is spread on the internet, especially these days. Have I ever explained that I hate the word "blog"? Because it reminds me of "bog." It sounds viscous.

Meghan reminded me tonight of something that happened several years ago. I'd completely forgotten about it and I can't believe I did because it is comic gold. My friend Angie and I had the clever idea of shooting Coke slushee, through a giant slushee straw, into my mouth. Angie was going to aim the straw and blow into it and it was going to go into my mouth. As you can imagine it didn't work at all-- I got slushee splattered all over my face and the front of my shirt. What really astonishes me is that I really, really thought it would work. I'm still pondering the physics of it.


Jane Austen is funny
Sunday, March 7, 2004 @ 02:57 p.m.

He was a married man, and without children; the very state to be wished for. A house was never taken good care of, Mr. Shepherd observed, without a lady: he did not know, whether furniture might not be in danger of suffering as much where there was no lady, as where there were many children. A lady, without a family, was the very best preserver of furniture in the world. -Persuasion

At work the other day I folded a pile of T-shirts with this cardboard folding guide called the EZ-FOLD (tm). It makes these little identical shirt-squares which can then be stacked in very high, stable piles. It's sort of creepy actually. People who would potentially want EZ-FOLDed shirts: (1) Hitler (2) Lego minifigs.

I was looking for the quote from Reality Bites where Janeane Garofalo remarks on being the manager of the Gap and being in charge of "all those t-shirts," but I found this one instead: "He's so cheezy, I can't watch him without crackers." (You know, I was really cheering for Ben Stiller in that movie. Also, I thought Riley should have been Buffy's "long-haul guy". I always want to stable, nice guy to win over the forces of destiny or true love or whatever. I mean, yeah, passion is nice; but in the long run, psychological health and fiscal viability and general togetherness are more important than Hollywood seems to realize! I'm such a non-believer.)


tired of fighting
Thursday, March 4, 2004 @ 09:57 a.m.

I had that job interview this morning. I don't know how it went, but I'm also feeling kind of down about the whole job enterprise. I mean, do I want this glamourous temp job with the city of Edmonton? I'm not convinced I do. As I came out of the interview, and changed back into my jeans, I had the overwhelming sense that I didn't care what happens. I'm so tired of metaphorically getting down on my knees and begging for crappy jobs. It may sound arrogant, but it's true. I don't think I should have to parade all my neuroses in front of some stranger just for the benefit of being considered for a callback.

In my English 450 class (Woman Writers of the Romantic Period) right now we are reading this book, Little Henry and his Bearer, this hyper-religious children's book from the 1800s. My classmates get so upset about this type of propaganda, but I don't really see the point. Why rail against the past? Is that going to change the way we've evolved, if we have in fact evolved? I'm sure the mistakes we're making now, as a culture, are just as dire as supreme religiousness and sexism and colonialism were in the 19th century. It will just take 200 years to realize it. People of the future will look back on our cultural texts and be disgusted by ur lack of respect for the environment, or our offensive self-righteousness, or out obsession with consumption, or some other fault we haven't even been made aware of yet.

Anyway, the whole thing strikes me as so self-congratulatory and kind of sickening. Look how smart we are now-- we don't fall for that God bullshit anymore! Well, I think we're falling for a whole different brand of bullshit now, and I don't think it's any better. So I just sit in class and keep my mouth shut, except for one prudent comment about pluralism-- because the prof bullied me into speaking up more. (He told me, "just tell yourself-- I'M DOING THIS FOR THEM, FOR THE OTHER PEOPLE IN MY CLASS!")

I have a booze-free hangover from too much stress/not enough sleep. It's not really a good day. Except for two things: that my friend Meghan is going to the Dominican Republic, and she won't tell me anything about it because she's at work-- and must guard her secrets over the phone. Like someone on ALIAS. That is good and cool. And secondly, I got a book on inter-library loan and it looks really interesting and I'm going to write my best term paper ever, ever. I'm starting on it NOW. Did you know I'm an A student now? And inter-library loan is cool, yo. I order these books and they are brought here for free and I pick them up from the nice bald librarian and it indicates, to me, that at least on some level our society is in fact working.

I should make some of those sighing noises. That always makes me feel better.


if the right one doesn't get you, the left one will
Tuesday, March 2, 2004 @ 11:14 a.m.

My Restoration Drama class is reading endlessly repetitive, boring, flaky plays. In honour of this (and the fact that I never do my homework), a list of things you can do while reading restoration drama to make it more interesting:

  • Watch ALIAS.
  • Talk to someone on the phone.
  • Listen to loud rock and/or roll music
  • think about doing something else
  • do stomach crunches.

It's not enough.

I have a job interview tomorrow. I apply for new jobs all the time because I have a rovin' eye for employment. (a pirate queen doesn't like to be tied down.) And I need a second job over the summer.

blah blah blah.

I need a new layout but my scanner is broken. Or rather, I think my COMPUTER is broken, and refuses to speak to my scanner. My computer and my family are in a state of detente. We hate it but we need it, and also, my parents refuse to replace perfectly serviceable technology with newer, shinier technology, just because it is newer and shinier. Although whether this computer is serviceable is questionable because, as I mentioned, the scanner has stopped working. Also: it is running Windows 95, meaning that there is no longer any support for any of the programs or anything we have on it; and it doesn't have an USB port, so I have to go over to James's house to make new minidiscs. Which I record with legal songs only, of course, recorded by my own band, which I own the copyrights to.

I watched the Oscars and the best part was when Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson sang a song about long speeches, and then they presented the award for best song: "Lyric and music by STING." Will Ferrell said it in this fake serious, reverent voice. "STING." Like "MENTOS."


fun! free! nutritious!