damn near daily since november 1999:

your secrets i will keep
Sunday, November 26, 2000 @ 04:33 p.m.

when i was in elementary school i was totally enamoured of this male friend of mine, joel. every early-elementary class has one: the sensitive, perhaps pudgy, cute boy who hangs out with all the girls at recess while the other boys are beating each other. that was joel. and i wanted him. but he was in love with my friend shanna-marie, who was a ballerina. i am just telling you this so you will understand where i am coming from. no one was in love with me in grade 2. nobody! and in a way, i have never grown out of my childish yearning to be a ballerina.

also, in a way, i have never grown out of my crush on joel. i wonder what happened to him? he probably turned into someone i could be good friends with, actually. he liked james bond movies. he once went on a "diet". his mom was a library volunteer. he had straight, blonde hair. his last name was french-sounding. he married shanna-marie at recess. this is all i remember about him.

most days i wake up and feel ready to keep it all together, ready to dazzle those i meet, ready to give out of myself and be polite and funny and smart, ready to dress appropriately and smell pleasant and fall in love; but some days i wake up and i can't help but feel like no matter what i do, i am never the girl that joel would want. it will always be shanna-marie, right? it will always be her and it will never be me, because, for some reason, i'm not the right kind of girl.

do others occasionally get meloncholic for the state of their lives-- for something they lost a long time ago, or some greater pattern, discernable or no, that seems to dictate that they can't succeed?

i fall in love too easily, and try too hard, and give up too easily, and hang on too tightly.

too much of heaven
Saturday, November 25, 2000 @ 10:55 p.m.

am i out tonight?

Similarily, No.

However, Ha!

Secondly, I CAN triumph over my ridiculously busy lifestyle. I worked from 9 to 5 this day in the post office with eudora welty, and then from around 5.30 to 9.30 babysitting. today is the $80 day. i want to go buy eight more tank tops exactly like the one i just bought, all of them pink, so i can feel this good every day.


Jocelyn: "oh, no, the structural integrity of the vehicle has been compromised!"

Griffin: "oh no, the superlephant spies enemies! turn on the big power jets."

Jocelyn: "what kind of enemies?"

Griffin: "bad ones!"

Ella: "TOBY?"

On the other hand, My family are all visiting my grandparents, a trip I got out of by virtue of having to run the lynwood post office. It has recently come to my attention that "lynnwood" may actually be spelled "lynwood." i'm not sure which is correct, so I will alternate spellings, and thus be right half the time, unless it is actually spelled "linwud: or "gysiwnd," in which case I am fucked.

Tenderized lean ground beef, Speaking of being fucked, though, my family are all visiting my grandparents, and you guys could have all come over and done despicable things on my futon. but, now it is too late, for i have locked both the doors.

Light and dark imagery, The reason I like children is that I have, for some reason, the approximate character of a child. the littlest things delight me. i am extremely moody and given to tantrums. i love toys.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, this has been an extremely disjoined update, full of line breaks with no transitional phrases. i think i will go back and add transitional phrases in, to please mrs. park. just a sec.

okay, now that's done. one more order of business:

happy birthday, cam!

okay, now i can go to bed. goodnight, loved ones and those unknown. you make my life too much of heaven.

these are some of my favourite things
Friday, November 24, 2000 @ 09:56 p.m.

I took the looooong new spark test, the match test, and got this result: "You'd make a great wife, but, hey, that doesn't mean you wouldn't make a great one-night-stand." I am the pure mountain stream and earned this list of apparently unrelated short, disconnected phrases: "dependent good love provider". This is fun! Take the test, take the test! See if you match with me!

strange moment in retail: yesterday, we went shopping for pants for my sister at mariposa in west ed., and this "skinny bitch" trying on a little red mariposa dress stepped out of her changeroom the same time i stepped out of mine. we turned and looked at each other, and realized we were both singing along with the carlos santana remix on the radio, and we BOTH looked a little scared at the prospect.

claro que si!
Thursday, November 23, 2000 @ 09:48 p.m.

i had gross pesto and shrimp pizza for supper.

Thursday, November 23, 2000 @ 04:29 p.m.

it's strange to realize that five hundred years ago the united states was not the most important country in the world, and that in five hundred more years it most likely won't be again-- replaced by china, japan, india, brazil, who knows? history forgives us everything, but we think this is our right.


Happy birthday to me
happy birthday to me
happy birthday prolix pitas
one year is a lot of damn-near-daily...

i lied. i said i was going to do something for my website's birthday, and i was lying. haha. but, i think i might have some ice cream. come on over to my house and i'll give you some ice cream, how's about that?

that fateful first entry. i think i'm gonna start to cry now.

no me preguntas a mi
Wednesday, November 22, 2000 @ 09:19 p.m.

strange fact: if you write today's date in the DD/MM/YY format, it is 22/11/00. What a day for a pitas birthday eve!

I love all the people who update my website when I am notaround. If anyone else wants to, phone me and I will tell you my TopSecretYouWillNeverGuessItEver password.

mexico mexico!
Wednesday, November 22, 2000 @ 07:11 p.m.

Hi this is Jocelyn's friend, Angie. I don't use the term lightly either. If jocelyn were in a pickle, I'd be sure to get her out. (pee yew)

someone remind Jocelyn, to come eat bagels with me.

Happy Pita Birthday Deletia!!

martes, el 21 de noviembre, 2000 @ 05:57 p.m.

JOCELYN: "maybe i will stop putting 's's on the end of all my plurals."

MEGHAN: "Plural."


ANGIE: "like, as a momentum... as a momentum of me rolling into you?"

two dwarves in a box
martes, el 21 de noviembre, 2000 @ 05:36 de la tarde

Mr. Jones [my 286] doesn't get turned on as much as he used to. I wonder if I can get my doctor to perscribe something for him. Or if I need more spare time.

I have some kind of flu-- my cold mutated. Or, I just don't get enough sleep, and my anthro text informs me that humans need approximately 8 hours of sleep out of every 24, and people chronically deprived of enough sleep are "sickly". I need more than eight hours, however. About ten is perfecto. Anyway, I was at the Mis briefly last night, although after waiting for about 45 minutes (I think?) I felt somewhat better, and so I went home.

I just finished reading THE IMAGINARY GIRLFRIEND and now I am reading THE POISONWOOD BIBLE. Next up are XENO, about interspecies organ transplantation; JAZZ (by Toni Morrison), Douglas Coupland's new one, and then... who knows? My reflections on THE IMAGINARY GIRLFRIEND, which is John Irving's memoir: (1), you have to write eight 500+ page novels before you are allowed to write a 150-page memoir; and (2), it's good to be John Irving. He gets to be friends with famous writers like Kurt Vonnegut and Robertson Davies and he invites them over to his house and they play racquetball (or something) and talk about publishing-industry hijinks, whereas I sit here alone in snowy Edmonton, listening to Ricky Martin, utterly unsure of what hijinks are.

estas cuidadoso con mi corazon; ricky martin, why do you do this to me?

one year ago

I had a dream.

Somehow the world had been brought to its knees, but the heads (bloodied and tangled in gutters) grew new bodies and lived new lives, more desperate, more difficult. I was there, in a gaunt new body, and I was dining in someone else's tent-- or perhaps it wasn't me at all. I wandered in and gasped. Everything was plentiful, as if I had wandered into paradise, and the people who lived there invited me to stay for dinner. I was overcome with gratitude and jealousy.

Or perhaps it wasn't me at all.

It was a difficult dream. Like many others it had a prevasive sense of familarity about it. Is every dream one we have had before? Where do the first dreams come from?

They are implanted in us, perhaps, passed on from our parents, so with each generation we have the cumulative dreaming of a universe-- like acquired immunity, passed through breastmilk. And each baby adds the slightest few drops to the pool, until we can all feel we have already lived every possible moment.

Why have the last two weeks been so rich in terms of dreams? Dreams and dreams every night, dreams that wake me up and terrify me and send me back to sleep. It's exhausting to wake up and realize that, in fact, I have not been resting but wrestling with my subconscious and my own righteousness.

It's exhausting to wake up without having rested, to wake up with my brain already full-tilt forward, attempting to make sense of the world while I want merely to sleep.

Just being me is exhausting. It takes a lot of energy just to be me.

PS: the new Backstreet Boys CD comes out today! HELLO!

malice writes the way my brain works. Is there such thing as DONT BUY ANYTHING WEEK? Because, if there isn't, there should be.

Next month is UNCLUTTER YOUR BRAIN month. I think.

And THURSDAY is pitasbirthdayday! Joy! What fun events am I going to conceive of for this momentous occasion? NO ONE KNOWS! BECAUSE I AM NOT GOING TO CONCEIVE OF THEM UNTIL VERY LATE WEDNESDAY NIGHT, WHEN I GET HOME FROM WORK! I think it is only appropriate that prolixpitas, an empire built on procrastination, should celebrate its birthday in this way.

Tuesday, November 21, 2000 @ 09:02 a.m.

jeff: also because you drive me to the hospital on Monday nights without complaint.

vote voltemort... why choose the lesser evil?
Monday, November 20, 2000 @ 04:52 p.m.

um... i had thought of something interesting to say, but i forgot it. early anthropology helped to condone public support of eugenics and anti-immigration policies. also: the possible presence of a masturbation gene.

what are those americans up to? i mean, is anything being done about the whole "electing a president" thing? are they revoting, or taking a vote on whether to revote, or recounting the votes, or taking a vote on whether to recount the votes? i think the canadian media has tired of the whole thing and gone back to publishing pictures of the cow i saw running down 150th street yesterday.

i took toby for a walk in the river valley, but he planted his schnauzerbum in the middle of the trail and refused to go any further. given that toby is both inordinately brave (given his status as a Very Small Animal) and normally tireless (come mud, water, snow, tall grass, fights with cougars...), i figured he probably knew something i didn't and took him home.

jeff: i love you because you humour me when i embark on tirades about angry-boy-bands-with-numbers-in-their-names conspiracies. (well, i have a point, though: eve 6, blink 182, finger 11, and stroke 9-- hello!)

Sunday, November 19, 2000 @ 04:05 p.m.

i want to make birthday-craft.

the best things in life are free
Saturday, November 18, 2000 @ 10:10 p.m.

i am trying, breakfast-at-tiffany's-style, to figure out where my money goes to, precisely. ("what's it doing in atlantic city?" "recirculating.") thus: balance my checkbook. woohoo. i think the main problem may be that i spend money faster than I make it.

updated: wish list, archive. basically, my whole christmas wish list can be summarized with the word "toys".

materia suplemantaria


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fucking imood
desde el premiero de marzo, 2000!