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Love, and bunnies
Monday, November 24, 2003 @ 11:00 p.m.

Three emails I got while I was at my evening class:

  • One from Cam inviting me to see his band play
  • One from Becky inviting me to a Christmas party this weekend
  • Some SPAM from someone I don't know which reads, "The most THRILLING FUN, You will ever have!" and the subject line reads, "Everybody loves rabbits." Indeed. I know how I feel about rabbits: I am always trying to talk James into getting one.

Celebrities who I often confuse with each other or think are the same person in spite of evidence to the contrary:

  • Laura Linney and Holly Hunter (both blondish, have alliterative names)
  • Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro (both sort of badass, have three-syllable last names ending in "o")
  • Michael Clarke Duncan and Delroy Lindo (both large and black)

I went to see LOVE ACTUALLY, and it was exactly the sort of sentimental and contrived movie you would think it would be-- and I sort of loved it, actually. It's such a cliche, but it genuinely does have a big heart. And with Hugh Grant as the British PM and Billy Bob Thorton as the US President, you can almost take it as, like, satirical. Maybe.

I feel full of things to say, but with few people to say them to.


Sunday, November 23, 2003 @ 06:39 p.m.

"I'm never going to be famous. My name will never be writ large on the roster of Those Who Do Things. I don't do any thing. Not one single thing. I used to bite my nails, but I don't even do that any more." -Dorothy Parker

I'm writing a paper about Louise Brooks, silent film, and feminism. I actually think it's interesting enough that I woke up this morning wanting to work on it. Other than that, like Dorothy Parker, I'm not Doing Anything.


i've been meaning to tell you i never liked you anyway
Thursday, November 20, 2003 @ 02:48 p.m.

On The Simpsons yesterday, Krusty became a Congressman (just like Jimmy Stewart!) and they went to a bar in Washington called "The Drinkin' Memorial." Hee.


we're finished, we're finished
Tuesday, November 18, 2003 @ 02:40 p.m.

I have to dress up for James' Christmas party. I really resent events that require me to put on nice clothes; in fact, they usually make me disinclined to go at all. So I'm very depressed now.

It has recently been announced that the Edmonton municipal government has proposed reductions in library services in order to save money on the library system. One mid-sized branch-- that means one of Riverbend, Capilano, Castle Downs, Highlands, Idylwylde, Lessard or Woodcroft libraries-- will be closed if this budget is passed. If you live in Edmonton and you feel strongly about maintaining (or expanding) the municipal spending on libraries, please fill out the city's 2004 budget survey at the city's website, or contact the Citizens' Action Centre:, or contact your Councillor. (Actually, hell, even fill out the online form if you don't live in Edmonton!)

This has been a Public Service Announcement from me, your pro-library lady.

"She even killed among that most pacifist of nations..."
"Faith did not kill a Vulcan, she killed a volcanologist!"
"Why would she want to kill someone who studies Vulcans?"

"So you don't have to go rummaging through the stacks anymore, which I think is a loss to your character..." -My Renaissance Drama professor, on the problems with online academic journals

"What is Batman's super power, exactly?"
"He doesn't have a power, other than his gadgetry and a desire to do good."
"And Spandex." -My sister, and me

"Because he must be dead if he's lying face-down in the water, even though he's spent the last half-hour wandering around on the bottom of the ocean." -My FMS prof, on the pathos of Pinocchio.


glamourous bitch
Tuesday, November 18, 2003 @ 08:04 a.m.

Maybe if I update, Chris will, out of guilt.

My dad and I have decided to write a book. He told me that he thinks I need to write a book, and he knew I wouldn't do it unless someone made me (that's true), and so he's making me. When it comes down to it, I don't mind being forced. After all, it's good for me.

This might seem fanciful but in fact I'm completely serious.

I've been watching Steven Spielberg films (in the past week: Minority Report, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Jaws, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, the first two Jurassic Park movies, Duel, and Hook) and having bad dreams. I'm glad it's Mandarin orange season again. I bought a furry jacket (but not a real furry jacket, that's cruel) and sort of Buddy-Holly-y glasses and I now walk around feeling like a hipster.

I'm disappointed because Courtney informed me that this page doesn't load properly on her Mac. I'm also jealous because Courtney has a Mac in the first place.

I want a glamourous bitch, or a girl with good dividends.


Friday, November 14, 2003 @ 09:00 a.m.

Two of my professors have pointed out this semester, independently of each other, a significant problem with TV I'd never noticed before: that in TV, and often in movies, there are no consequences for decisions. That is, you can do the "right" thing and get rewarded with the wrong thing anyway. A classic example is those reality shows where the participants have to choose between the person they supposedly love and $1,000,000, and then if they choose love they get the money anyway. I guess it makes sense, because you have to reward the characters for making good choices, by giving them the very things they thought they were giving up. It's pretty neat. Too bad real life isn't like that, because otherwise I would be like, "well, I SHOULD go to class today... but I really WANT TO go stealing stuff from stores in the mall with a shotgun." Then when I got home from school, there would be a big pile of DVD players and AE sweaters and expensive greeting cards in my living room, saying, "Thanks for being responsible, Jocelyn."

Instead, when I come home from school, all there is in my living room is articles of clothing my dog has torn up with his teeth.


Wednesday, November 12, 2003 @ 10:27 p.m.

The word "McJob" has officially entered the lexicon and will be included in the next print edition of the Mirriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary. If I could, I would make out with Douglas Coupland RIGHT NOW.

McDonald's is reportedly miffed that the word appears in the dictionary, because, apparently, the mcjobs you get at mcdonald's are not mcjobs at all:

In an open letter to Merriam-Webster, McDonald’s CEO Jim Cantalupo said the term is “an inaccurate description of restaurant employment” and “a slap in the face to the 12 million men and women” who work in the restaurant industry.

Hehee. Cantalupo. His executive assistant is named "Dr. Honeydew."

Hmm, I got a little off-topic there didn't I?

On Saturday Meghan and I went thrift store shopping and I bought, for $5, a sweater that makes me look like someone's grandfather. And they say money can't buy happiness!


Done and done.
Wednesday, November 12, 2003 @ 01:41 p.m.

One hour and twenty minutes early. I am the man. Fortunately, the mark I get on papers never seems to have anything to do with how good I think they are; so this one's probably going to get an 'A', because I think it's shit.


ain't no sunshine when she's gone
Wednesday, November 12, 2003 @ 10:00 a.m.

OK. I have 5 hours before my family (and our houseguests, and their cute three-year-old who doesn't speak English but DOES play the piano) arrive home. And I have a 1400-word paper to write in that time. That's only 280 words an hour. I'd better hop to it. If I DO write 1400 words in the next five hours, then I will reward myself with a trip to the video store where I will rent some, or all, of the following movies: Losing Lisa, Always, Hook, and that Portuguese movie I can't remember the name of. Does anyone else know what I am talking about? It came out in the last couple years and it took place in, I think, Rio de Janiero. And it had some kind of meta-cinematic aspect, like someone in the movie was making a movie, or something. I'm grasping at straws here. Help.

OK. Game on.


no more miracles
Tuesday, November 11, 2003 @ 07:24 p.m.

I was thinking last night about how, whenever people become famous, say as celebrities or politicians, someone always dredges up some incriminating/humiliating information from their past. You know, they starred in a porn movie, they did drugs, they had an abortion, etc. Well, it's recently occurred to me that I have no secrets like this at all. Honestly. I've NEVER DONE ANYTHING BAD. It's sort of cool on the one hand, because it means I can have a life in the limelight without worrying about my image being tarnished; but on the other hand it's really lame. What kind of a person gets to be 20 without breaking any laws or at least doing something unethical? A total square, that's who. Woe is me.

I had a really nice long weekend and I even did a little homework. But then, that fits with my previous hypothesis that I'm a total square. Also I'm working on a presentation about Steven Spielberg and so I think you should leave me comments related to his entertainment films, in particular thematic issues or interpretation. I don't think I even LIKE Steven Spielberg. All the movies of his that I've watched so far have been crap, except for maybe Indiana Jones ("Nazis. I hate those guys") Yes, even E.T., that venerable little alien. Damn him.


Because everyone loves ironic shirts. Everyone. Even you, grouchy.
Thursday, November 6, 2003 @ 04:56 p.m.

For that hard-to-shop for cute twenty-year-old girl on your list: a pink "world's best grandma" baby-t. Why do I want one so bad? No one knows.

In a way, Christmas is really bad for me because it gives me an excuse to form long lists of stuff that I think other people should buy for me. It's not a season of giving at all, and no gap commercial featuring celebrities crooning Supertramp songs can trick me into thinking otherwise. As far as I'm concerned, it's the most selfish holiday of all, other than maybe St. Jocelyn Day.

I'm willing to acknowledge that other people might be less shallow than I am, though.


More of my zany adventures
Thursday, November 6, 2003 @ 03:37 p.m.

The U of A moved from a 9-point grading system to a A/B/C/D type grading system this year. I am rockin' this new world of student evaluation, I must say. But it's had a weird effect on my standards. I'm only happy with 'A's, now, whereas I used to be happy with '7's. The good news is, that maybe if I keep it up I'll be able to get into grad school after all.

*swell of inspiring instrumental music, like the kind that plays in movies when the heroes overcome obstacles*

I went to see The Matrix: Revolutions yesterday. I wasn't expecting much from it, so I won't say I was disappointed. But, much like the second one, I found it very heavy-handed. The whole "trilogy" thing just seems like it's taking itself so damn seriously, and the relentless philosophizing doesn't help. A movie that does everything it can to tell you it's an epic saga, to me, is annoying. Besides, Courtney and I could have written the script.

Trinity: "...[Earlier today] I said I would do anything for you. Do you know what's changed in the last six hours?"
Jocelyn, Courtney and Trinity in unison: "Nothing."



everyone's excited and confused
Wednesday, November 5, 2003 @ 09:57 a.m.

Ok, now I like it. Does this design look weird on your system/browser? No? Good.


everything is fine, nothing is broken
Monday, November 3, 2003 @ 10:44 p.m.

Today, when Courtney ran up to me in the Tory-Business Atrium to tell me, "I am going to fail this exam! I have to go to the library and study!" I replied, with the wisdom of the sages, "Everything is fine. Nothing is broken."

There's a funny homestarrunner cartoon where Homestar breaks Strong Bad's computer, and then draws a pretend dialog box on paper which he tapes to the monitor. The dialog box says: "everything is fine. nothing is broken." Then he runs away.

If I could, I would affix such a sign to my own life in general, in hopes that I could just trick myself into thinking that everything is fine and nothing is broken. In the same way, I used to hide my own money when I was a child in hopes that I would forget about it and so, when I found it later, it would be like lost treasure. Unfortunately I was too miserly or I just had too good a memory to forget where the money was, and as soon as I needed it I inevitably pulled it from its hiding spot and spent it. So.

Tonight I told my parents: "I would like you to know that because of you, I've missed out on a significant part of my generation's cultural experience. How come I never saw a single Disney or Spielberg movie when I was a kid? You hippies."
They didn't seem to feel too guilty.

I know my website is ugly and I am trying hard to fix it, but I just don't have time at the moment. Forgive me, internet. This is the problem with being my mistress instead of my wife.

Things I am going to do so I feel like less of an ugly: get a haircut, buy new shoes so I don't have to wear the duct-tape ones all the time.


I have a crush on every boy
Saturday, November 1, 2003 @ 10:33 p.m.

I'm at home tonight, writing my paper on Frank Capra and half-watching The Perfect Storm. I've dubbed the crew members George (George Clooney), Cheerleader (Mark Wahlberg), So-and-so, Whatsherface, and THE UGLY ONE! I don't know who the last three are. I think there might actually be four. But it doesn't matter; they don't have any sub-plots.

Also I said the following out loud to Toby: "Well, what do you think, Toby? Are they going to catch a lot of fish, or are they all going to die? If you said they're all going to die, then you're a very smart dog."

It's not a very good movie but I'm glad they kept the everyone-dying ending. Otherwise it would just have been a little too Hollywood.


Two booze-related items
Thursday, October 30, 2003 @ 04:54 p.m.

1. According to the new Alias drinking game invented by the staff of television without pity, you have to take a drink every time Sydney mentions how much or her life has been lost in the current amnesia/everyone thought she was dead/Vaughn got married story arc.

Syd's all, dude, I killed someone. I wanna know what happened to me. Jack's all, yeah, yeah, yeah, this haunts you. I get it. Syd's all, of course this haunts me. I lost…wait…what was it…how many years did I lose? The collective viewing audience at large screams, "TWO YEARS!" Then the collective viewing audience at large grabs three shots of their favorite alcohol and, as dictated by the Alias Drinking Game, the rules of which state, "Drink three shots each time Syd blames everything on losing two years," knocks them all back in quick succession.
-the current recap

2. A new drink invention in Florida, where recent bylaw changes have made smoking in bars illegal: the nicotini, a martini made with tobacco leaves soaked in vodka. yum.

Yeah, you heard me. Yum.


What country shall I say is calling?
Wednesday, October 29, 2003 @ 10:46 a.m.

And I would drop down before your knees and say, take me in, fix me-- not because I'm lost and not because I'm broken and not because I'm lonely but just because I'm tired, more tired than I ever would have thought was possible.

The first new snow of the year always takes my breath away. The logical 95% of my brain is aware that this means the season of cold and darkness is here, but it's hard to believe that when the whole night sky is light and I can't help thinking, my God, it's so beautiful. Honestly, last night at 11.30, my bus could have been driving through the forest from a fairy-tale rather than the freeway.

In my renaissance drama class we're reading THE ROARING GIRL and it's awesome. I didn't even know they had plays like this in the renaissance, actually.

I finished FALL ON YOUR KNEES, also, and I can see why other people like it, but I can't like it myself. I hate those dysfunctional family sagas that pull your heart out of your chest and then shove it in your face: "look, did you KNOW this kind of evil existed in the world?" Well, yes, I knew; but that doesn't mean I want to read about it for 550 pages.

Books like that make me cry, but also give me the clear simultaneous feeling I'm being manipulated.


there's no going back on this one
Tuesday, October 28, 2003 @ 04:32 p.m.

Last week I think I recounted looking up my parents on NEOS (the university library computer catalogue), and finding each of them there with books and journal articles. I mentioned it to them that evening, how it's a little intimidating hanging around with them and all their friends, who are all these phd types. Especially since I'm such a mediocre student myself.

My mother's response? "But Jocelyn, you're so good at just... being yourself." She meant it utterly sincerely, as a high compliment, but it's such a consolation prize affirmation. I mean, last time I checked no one was willing to pay me for just being myself, no matter how good at it I am. And I am, arguably, the best in the world.

The picture above is something I found in my attachments folder. I don't know what it is of. Well, i mean, it's of a tree, but as to the significance of the tree-- why there is a picture of it on my hard drive and not pictures of other trees- is a cosmic perplexion. It's a termporary measure until I get my scanner working again. I'm not thrilled with this design either, so I expect I'll be playing with it more later.

I was out all weekend babysitting, and I actually got to utter the following phrase:

"Do. NOT. Throw potato chips in the house."

I even said it in my scary, matronly schoolteacher voice, which I've been working on specially for occasions like this. Yeah. Fear me.

I would like to tell you that while I was away from home I was responsible and did lots of homework, but that would make me a liar in addition to being lazy. I watched 6 episodes of Simpsons (the hallowe'en marathon), and Blade II (which is almost identical to the first one, and I hated the first one, except Kris Kristofferson, and only because he brings up happy road-trip memories from my childhood), and a significant part of the director's cut of Lord of the Rings. It was a big weekend for me as an entertainment consumer, but I don't get credit for that, like so many other things.

Also: when I got home, it was so cold and miserable outside (it's snowing) that the only I thing I could do was eat brownies in the bathtub. Hopefully this is amusing in a Bridget-Jones-type of way. Ultimately I will end up with a TV in my bathroom, just like Gwyneth Paltrow in The Royal Tenenbaums.

Ooh: I ordered some new movies. That one (Royal Tenenbaums, not Bridget Jones), and Amelie, and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Paul Newman prompts me to have impure thoughts. Even in that Linda Fiorentino movie where he's 80 years old and he's catatonic in a wheelchair, the man is still very much hot.

Butch: You know, it could be worse. You get a lot more for your money in Bolivia, I checked on it.
Sundance: What could they have here that you could possibly want to buy?

I'm so bored, internet. I have to go. I have fond memories of when my website was less boring and self-absorbed, but I think that might be a myth.


fun! free! nutritious!