According to finance/economics blog Carpe Diem, you can buy this house in Detroit:
for $1,500-- a $7 mortgage payment every month. Nice. What say we all buy neighbouring houses, tear them down, and create some kind of utopian skate park/art installation/abandoned pet refuge/50s diner? Ooh, with a giant drive-in style movie screen! Internets? Any takers?
So, it's my last day at work, and my last day on campus in the foreseeable future. I mean, I guess I could just come and hang out on campus if I wanted to, but that would make me sort of creepy and sad, like Rob Lowe in St. Elmo's Fire. My friends and I used to come to campus once in awhile when we were in high school, just to hang out, and that was a little lame at the time, although also cute--we were so anxious for our future to begin. But after you've graduated, it's even more lame, and not cute. It suggests that you might be a sexual predator.
When my sister and I were kids we used to do that totally stereotypical thing of tottering around in my mom's high heels around the house. I feel like that today. I am wearing clacky, shiny pumps. I am wearing perfume, which is something I never used to do but have recently been experimenting with. In a job interview this morning, I sat still and looked composed and drank bottled water (provided) and answered questions with an off-putting combination of earnestness and cheeziness. I somehow was transformed into a grown-up, except I don't know how it happened or how I feel about it.
Although, I am wearing a vinyl wrist cuff with a picture of a 1960s woman on it, to remind me that I am young and hip. And I refuse to wear stockings, which is why my clacky shoes keep giving me blisters. Last week, for my last job interview, I wore knee-high socks with stars on them under my dress pants, and I hiked up my pants to show them to a friend I ran into in the library: "These are to remind me that I am not the kind of person who dresses like this."
Except I am, so maybe I am.
Jocelyn: Ooooh, you know what we should totally make?
James and Jocelyn, together: PORK SAUSAGE DIP.
James: You know we share one brain now, right?
Jocelyn: Good! It's much more efficient. So when we're at the grocery store, you can help me remember to buy the mats.
James: What are the mats for pork dip? Boar intestines and goretusk snout?
Jocelyn: Stormwind Brie!
James: And mild spices.
I don't really understand why vegans don't wear wool. I mean, you don't kill the sheep to get the wool. In fact, sheep that haven't been sheared in a long time get to be so covered in the stuff, it obscures their peripheral vision--which actually makes them MORE susceptible to tiger attacks. If I were a sheep, I would happy to contribute such a warm, flexible, and useful fiber to the betterment of humanity. Also I would make jokes about it. "Oh, do you find my wool ewe-sful? You need it baaaaaadly!" And so on. I guess we've just figured out why I am not a vegan--it's because I find it all too easy to see things from the sheep's perspective. That, and I love eating meat.
Also, it's not like if the animals ruled the earth, they would stop eating us. They wouldn't. I'm sorry, but that is the reality. Have these people even seen Congo?
The internets (that's "internets," not "internet's," don't get confused) response to the Miss South Carolina video I posted a link to earlier has been swift and cruel. One bright spot in the sea of mockery is Maps for Us, which is attempting to use the power of the digital Internets to make up for the lack of maps in American schools. Like Miss South Carolina, I also "believe our education, should help the US, should help the south africa, and the iraq, and the asian countries, so we can build up our future." It's a beautiful notion.
My favourite is the map of South/Central America made from dirty laundry:
My online banking system now shows scans of cheques I've written that have been cashed. Cool, eh? This means that all the times I've written "for sexual services rendered" in the memo line are now digital evidence, which could persist indefinitely. And that is a good feeling.
Also, I went to the fabric store last night and spent $50 on fabric (all of it from the bargain bin, like everything I buy), new sewing scissors, and thread. I have four projects to make, and I'm EXCITED. I also bought some orange wide-wale corduroy, which has no set destiny, but which I will make into SOMETHING--how can I not? Rule #1: You can always make something out of wide-wale orange corduroy. Rule #2: And it will be awesome.
I still haven't heard back about having a job, although I have another interview on Friday, which is also my last day here. If I don't have a job lined up by then, I guess I'm on awesome, unpaid vacation! My balcony, here I come!
My dad and I had this funny conversation about Classmates, and how they've been utterly upstaged by Facebook--especially since they keep trying to convince me that I should pay more to find out more information about people I used to go to school with. Sorry, Classmates, but that race has been won. I think the thing to do now would be to bow out gracefully.
Woohoo! I finished two books I've been bogged down in for awhile: Dave Eggers' short story collection How We Are Hungry (reading since July!) and Alberto Manguel's The Library at Night (started reading in DECEMBER). It feels good to have both of these behind me. It's not that either of them was boring, or not worth reading--otherwise I would never have finished them. But they were both kind of formidable, in their own ways. Now I'm reading another libraries book, which I actually got from the library (which makes it a library library book, or a library2 book, or a meta-library book): Rory Litwin's Library Juice Concentrate. (Note: I've been planning to read LJC for awhile, and now seems like an ideal time because I am finished my degree, I am finishing up my summer job, and I am trying to make the transition to "Professional librarian." I am interviewing for jobs. And in these interviews, if anyone happens to ask me what I am reading, I will be able to say, "Oh, Library Juice Concentrate," and they will know that I am Serious. SRSLY. I dream of a job interview where someone asks me what I'm reading.)
This is my last week of work, and it feels like it. I have to wrap up my project and hand over what I've finished. On Thursday I have a farewell "lunch with the librarians." I will have to delete all my firefox toolbar bookmarks. Also, the sense of fall is palpable around campus. There are scurrying new undergrads, many of them WITH PARENTS, everywhere. This is one of my favourite times of year, the scurrying time, but it's tinged with a kind of sadness too, because I get older every year, and those undergrads stay the same age. I miss that textbook-buying frenzy, the evaluation of new classes, the feeling of carrying one's entire life around in a giant backpack. I also miss having parents, although I still have parents, but they live in another country, and even when they lived in this country they never accompanied me anywhere. I'm getting more used to working--especially the having-money part, and the weekends-and-evenings-off part-- but I don't know if I will ever reach another point in my life where I am as contented as I have been for the past 7 years, going to university. Wow, that's morose. Well, come on, work world! Prove me wrong!
James and I are ordering mucho shirts from threadless, where all t-shirts are $10 until Sept. 3. I'm getting The Sound of Silents and Playground Love. DO IT.
I'm not one to make fun of people for being dumb, but... oh wait. Yes, I totally am. So on that note, Miss South Carolina suggests that Americans need more maps. At least I think that's what she's saying.
On the weekends
We try to get our share
Of excitement and of fresh air
Trying to forget
Who we're gonna be
When the alarm rings
On monday morning
-the perishers
Any of a large number of charming greeting cards from typeHigh press, many of them based on strange 19th century advertisements. $3.50 - $4.00. Nothing says love, to me, like a "Courtesy lozenges" card.
I get so much mail for the guy who used to own my condo. I am going to start throwing it away soon.
Guy #1: I'd totally hit that.
Guy #2: Dude, I'd hit that so hard whoever could pull me out would become the King of England.
-Overheard in New York
3 paragraphs about three different movies/tv shows. Feel free to skip if not interested.
Covered in this entry: Superbad - my affection for Michael Cera due to his affiliation with Arrested Development (which is analogous to my affection for the Wilson brothers, due to their association with various Wes Anderson projects) - Link to YouTube video for necessary Web 2.0 component - Iimplied criticism of the movie Sideways, and the fact that all kinds of people I respect like it - The appearance of Secret Daughters on television shows, and how this inevitable foretells the end of said shows - Strange crossovers amongst actors in J. J. Abrams shows - misogyny - Gilmore Girls - Lost - love triangles, and lack of interest (on the part of the author) thereinI am sad that I spent money and precious time yesterday watching Superbad, which is the worst movie I have seen in--well, not EVER, but awhile. (Sub-question: what's the worst movie I've seen ever? I don't know! I will consider this) I was really hoping it was going to be good, because I think Michael Cera is adorable, and he still has that Arrested Development sheen, and I kind of liked Knocked Up, which shared some cast members, writers, and ideology. But Superbad is, uh, pretty terrible. Superterrible, even. I'm aware that people around me find me overbearing, probably, but I have to say it, and it's my freaking blog, anyway: the attitude these mainstream comedy movies take towards women drives me CRAZY. Is it too much to ask that once in awhile, a comedy comes along in which women do more than look beautiful, act spontaneous and charming, not be respected, and (apparently) fall in love with men in spite of their OBVIOUS, OVERWHELMING PERSONALITY FLAWS? A few suggestions: One could make a funny joke, or stand up for herself, or not be stupid, or go to med school, or not strip down to her panties and prance around. And that's just off the top of my head.
Armadillo(e?)s are one of my favourite animals. This affection dates back to the day a cute boy from the zoo visited the Centre for Kids Who Can't Read Good and brought a selection of portable, non-poisonous animals for the underprivileged children to touch. Did you know that armadillos are basically MODULAR? When they are in their scared-of-underprivileged-children-form, they fold up into cute, little armadillo balls! They remind me of LEGO, or Scandinavian furniture, oh yes indeed. So today, because it is Friday afternoon and I don't feel like working, I present a special edition of May I Suggest You Buy This? with an armadillo theme. W00t. If you don't want to buy these things for yourself, I suggest you buy them for me, but not the onesie--it will never fit.
According to this article from CNN technology, dinosaurs were fast: "The smallest dinosaur -- the Compsognathus -- could run nearly 40 miles per hour, about 5 miles per hour faster than the computer's estimate for the fastest living animal on two legs, the ostrich." But remember, as long as you don't move, they can't see you.
Co-Worker 1: You guys don't have any Kleenex.
Co-worker 2 (whose desk is right next to mine): And we don't have phones. And our desks are in the hallway.
Jocelyn: We are the third world of the 6th floor.
Co-Worker 1: I am going to bring you some Kleenex.
Jocelyn: You're the UN!
Currently listening to: The Perishers featuring Sarah McLachlan - Pills
via FoxyTunes
Oh my God, I love this song. I'm on my fifth consecutive listen now.
One may think
we’re alright
But we need pills
to sleep at night
We need lies
to make it through the day
We’re not ok
Call it old-fashioned, but I love a good duet. The Rufus Wainwright song "One Man Guy" is one of my favourites. My favourite Snow Patrol song, the one I can listen to over and over and over, is "Set the Fire to the Third Bar." (The common denominator is Martha Wainwright, but I don't like her solo material much--too slow and thoughtful.) I love Stars, and some of their best stuff is duetty. And I get to see them in November! And I'm getting off topic! (To the extent that "off-topic" is even a valid observation around here...)
That iTunes music recommending thingy is pretty good, actually. I've found lots of stuff I like that way. But I wish I could type the words "NO MORE FREAKIN JOHN MAYER" into my computer and have my wishes recognized. iTunes doesn't even care that that guy is my arch-nemesis. Actually, now that I think about it, it's almost as if Steven Jobs, personally, is mocking me. "Oh, yeah, Jocelyn? You like The Perishers? You like Beck? You like that new Josh Ritter album? How do you feel about.... JOHN MAYER?" Ha! More like John Maybe-not-er!
I think my interview went OK. All I know is, I would give myself that goddamn job. Anyway, it's disappeared from my mind like a heavy object dropped into a still pond. I get to go back to my life, now. I'm making pizza, bitches.
So, apparently one of the new trendy job-interview questions is, "How did you prepare for this interview?" This afternoon, if I am asked this, I shall have a response ready.
Wake up in the morning, get yourself to work.I may even hum this song for the interviewers, if they're friendly.
Fraggles never fool around, Fraggles never shirk.
Your duty's always waiting, and duty must be done.
There's Ping-Pong games that must be played,
And songs that must be sung.
I am not having a very good day. I'm stressed out about my presentation tomorrow morning, and my job interview tomorrow afternoon. I feel suddenly, painfully inadequate. Plus I just found out that one of the people who will be job-intervieweing me is also coming to my presentation, "so you can consider that part of your interview." PLUS I am having dumb, printer-driver-installation tasks delegated to me. The only thing that would make me feel better is ordering a bunch of clothes on the internet, and I can't even do that because I don't have any money (see job interview, above). Plus my boyfriend is gone to San Jose, so if you've been waiting to make a move on me, now's your chance, but no one will--see woefully inadequate, above.
Not even saying "Chimo" is going to make me feel better. I'm going to sit at my desk and sulk.
From deputy-dog: 13 of the worst fake accents in film. I'm glad that they titled their list "13 of the worst," rather than "the 13 worst," because it's hard to make absolute decisions about these matters. I mean, Kate Beckinsale in Van Helsing should probably be on this list, along with David Boreanaz on Buffy/Angel (well, OK, TV...) and MICHAEL CAINE?!? No one makes fun of Michael Caine on my watch. Especially since in The Cider House Rules they specifically explain that his accent isn't meant to be American, that he is the son of an immigrant--"someone not from Maine." And I know this because in John Irving's memoir about the making of The Cider House Rules (my Movie Business) he specifically discusses Michael Caine's accent and how they wanted to create a kind of ambiguity about his background. Grrrr.
In other news, Jocelyn is obsessed, but then, you already knew that. All I demand is that everyone, all the time, know everything about things they try to discuss before they discuss them--you know, like I do.
Also, there should be some kind of good accent list to accompany this one. "Accent props!" 1. Renee Zellweger in Bridget Jones's Diary-- that movie was the first time I ever actually considered her to be acting. 2. Forrest Whittaker in The Last King of Scotland-- unimpeachable, and I actually know what an East African accent sounds like! 3. Me and James, doing our own rendition of the Four Yorkshiremen!
"They'll be waitin' for us."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
-Ernest Borgnine, and William Holden, in The Wild Bunch
When James and I saw the film version of Douglas Coupland's Souvenir of Canada, he talked about this greeting which the government tried to get everyone to use in the 1970s, which I think was an Inuit word or something. Like all government-sponsored cultural initiatives (except the CBC?), it was a miserable failure. Anyone? Anyone? I want to find out what this word is, and start USING IT ALL THE TIME.
Ha! Using my mad librarian skills, I found it before I even had time to post this entry. It's "Chimo," which this handy website notes "may be accompanied by a gesture of salutation as well, namely moving the left hand in a circle on the area of the chest over the heart." I like the sound of that. Wikipedia adds, "In 1967, the Government of Canada attempted unsuccessfully to make "Chimo" the national greeting of Canada, akin to "Ciao" in Italy. This was the year of the Canadian Centennial, and the Canadian government was eager to establish a unique national culture. The phrase never caught on."
UNTIL NOW!
Chimo, Internets. Laters.
The Threat Level Blog over at Wired is compiling a list of the most egregious wikipedia spin jobs, using a little tool that matches wikipedia edits to corporate IP addresses. Fun! Fortunately, it doesn't take long for claims that The Exxon Valdez oil spill in Prince William Sound actually helped salmon to be deleted. God bless the interweb.
My Season 1 of Fraggle Rock arrived, so I got to watch the "making of" documentary. However, Jim Henson's voice (narrating) is so recognizably that of Kermit the Frog that it's distracting, and I can't concentrate on the puppet mastery that obviously went into this show. Heh. Puppetry mastery. Puppetmastery. Bator.
----------------
Currently listening to: Wave - Think It Over
via FoxyTunes
Yeah, that's right. I do not apologize.
Incroyable! An interactive flash map of Springfield, with stills from the show to demonstrate locations.
I've been work-work-working away. The big presentation I have to give about my summer work project is coming up on Thursday, the day where everyone associated with the institution where I would really like to work will sit down in a little classroom and judge me--my intelligence, my research skills, my ability to evaluate, and probably, my outfit. Is that the wrong way to look at it? Possibly. Anyway, it's stressing me out. Then, later the same day, I have a job interview, which will basically be a repeat of the same situation, including the judging thing and the outfit thing. Oh well. I am definitely going to talk about "leveraging" in my work presentation, and I might try to slip it into the interview as well. "Leveraging" is employer catnip. They go crazy for it! At least, that's the theory.
It's grey and rainy outside. Neko Case weather, or coffee weather. I mean, weather that makes you want to drink coffee, not weather that actually is coffee, which would be disorienting.
The weekend happened, but I don't remember it, and it only made me tired. I watched a thousand movies, or at least, three movies. I finished season 3 of Lost (and I made my final crush decision: Sayid. From now on, I have a Lost crush on Sayid. I know you were dying of suspense) I also wrote in my paper journal for the first time since May. Stupid blog, occupying all my writing energy.
I'm lonesome.
i. Jocelyn is all out of clean underwear
ii. Jocelyn is hypnotized by her own cleavage
iii. Jocelyn is tired of her gorram job
Guy in library: What's your policy on food and drink?
Jocelyn: It's OK, but don't spill it on anything.
Wouldn't that make an awesome, actual policy? We could put it on the website, and on posters in the library itself. "Food and Drink at the U of A Library: It's OK, but don't spill it on anything."
I don't really update my blog on Fridays anymore. Well, I mean, I did last Friday, and maybe I will next Friday, and technically I am right now. But other than that I generally don't, because it's boring.
I was supposed to do laundry last night, but I didn't--I suddenly got lazy about it. I watched Addams Family Values and Lost instead. And YET, in a feat of fashion, I managed to wear a sort of OK outfit today. It's a Christmas miracle!
i. The Addams Family Values. I kind of love the Addams Family movies, although I am also very puzzled by them. Who is the designated audience for these movies, besides me? They don't seem to be aimed at adults, exactly, nor at children. My favourite moment is probably Anjelica Huston reading aloud to their baby (who has a little Hitler moustache) from The Cat in the Hat, and she just looks so troubled by the book's inanity and cheerfulness. And Christina Ricci is incredible. Plus all these unexpected actors--David Krumholtz! Joan Cusack! Nathan Lane! Valerie from The Princess Bride! The dad from Drop Dead Gorgeous! And Harmony, from Buffy! (Watch enough episodes of Buffy, and you'll get to be as good at this game as I am, because that show had 1,000,000 actors. All those demons and high school students.)
ii. The iTunes free song of the week, Flight of the Conchords' The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room. I have been developing this theory recently that the best love songs have an edge of cruelty, and this (in fact) is what makes them sweet, credible. James insists there are no good romantic songs, but I think Leonard Cohen's Chelsea Hotel #2 comes pretty close: "I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel/that's all, I don't even think of you that often..." Anyway, this Flight of the Conchords song has that same edge, although obviously it's played a lot more for laughs. "And when you're on the street/Depending on the street/I bet you are definitely in the top three/Good-looking girls on the street..."
iii. Neil Gaiman's Stardust. It's being made into a movie, which was the first I'd ever heard of it. But I'm'a read the book first, because that's just how I roll. Neil Gaiman is masterful at mixing fairy tales with the postmodern and cynical. His books are so funny, but so reverent, they never lose their sincerity. So many of the best satires have too much cruelty to be enjoyable, they're too mean-spirited; but his books are something different, some kind of hybrid genre.
I'm exhausted. I wonder what would happen if I just went to sleep right now.
Today's Cat and Girl is funny.
Now that I watch Lost, I'm concerned about my survival skills, or lack thereof. Therefore, I think this Wired guide to using a wristwatch as a compass could come in handy. I shall memorize it.
Seriously. I've had this conversation with a couple different people, and the consensus seems to be: come a plane crash, or any kind of disaster actually, we're (me, and most of my friends) the first to get eaten when everyone gets hungry. I'd be like, "No, I can't help sew up your polar bear wound... but do you want me to build you a website? I bet the domain name 'www.strandedontheweirdestislandever.com' is still available! Or analyze some literature for you? Any takers?"
EATEN!
The only one of my friends to survive such a purge would be Courtney, because she's a paramedic (or possibly an EMT). I will need her to say things like, "The useless Jocelyn is under my protection."
And I'll refuse to teach them the watch-as-compass trick, so as to make myself indispensable. *Surreptitiously look at watch* "Hmmm, I sense that south is that way..."
From desire to inspire: books on display. I love pictures of other people's bookshelves, although I love them even more when you can tell what books they have. JUDGMENT!
George Orwell Wounded by a Fascist Sniper: George Orwell's essay about being shot. I have a weird fondness for George Orwell that goes back to high school. For a long time I had his 5 rules for effective writing posted like a prayer over my desk, until I realized I actually like using long words where short ones will do. Call it a hapless, perhaps misguided, attempt to gain the approbation of my readership.
"And what better day to forgive and forget than Danish Day, the happiest of all days?" -Rory, Gilmore Girls
Today is not actually Danish Day, not in the sense of there being danishes, but it reminds me of Danish Day. You could say it's reminiscent of Danish Day. It's also reminiscent of Thursday, for some reason, and that's pretty confusing, because I keep thinking that tonight I can go home and do laundry, when in fact nothing is further from the truth: I have to stay here, and work on the group presentation my group will deliver tonight, and then I have to go to class, and then I have to go to the bar and celebrate having done those things. Low standards for "reasons to celebrate," around here, that's what keeps us all going.
So, tonight's class is the last of my degree. I know what you're thinking. "Jocelyn, why didn't you just get your MRS degree?" Well, there is a Facebook Group that agrees with you, stranger. It's called "James & Jocelyn should AT LEAST move in together (or get engaged)" and it was started by our friends, who hate us. Heh.
Anyway, instead of getting my MRS degree, I got my MLIS degree, which has similar letters but which hopefully will give me greater financial freedom. And I will be done it today, internets. I took some cool classes (History of the Book! Contemproary Theories of Reading!) and a few dumb ones, I met some of the most interesting and nerdy people of my life so far (many of them owning library-themed internet t-shirts and/or librarian action figures), I drank a moderate amount of tea and even more cocktails, I did a presentation about Armed Services Editions (and wrote a Wikipedia article), I made gantt charts and records management retention schedules. I evaluated digital libraries. I applied metadata to things. Gosh, it's been fun.
On another note: at work, I live next to the machine room on the top floor, and there is this weird, loud, rhythmic whooshing sound that fills up my end of the hallway. A co-worker recently described this sound as "like being inside a whale." Oddly enough, I have gotten so used to it that I no longer notice it when I come into work this morning, and in fact, I would probably find the actual experience of being inside a whale comforting. Whenever I DO notice it, it amuses me, because I pretend (in my mind only, so as to retain my Professional Work Facade) that I can speak whale. "Whyyyyyyy.... arrrrreeeee..... yoooooouuuUUUUUUU.... soooooooOOOOOO.... looooUUUUDDDDddd?"
Again, for emphasis, I say: heh.
i. I am in what probably amounts to my worst financial straits ever. I have less than $1 in my bank accounts (combined), plus, I have $1.08 in available credit on my VISA card. HOWEVER, I get paid tonight at midnight, so fear not, Internets, I shall not starve. I am not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me, but rather, to impress you with the recklessness of my financial existence. What would I do if there was some kind of emergency? Borrow money from my sister, of course!
ii. I am totally, totally making chicken in my slow-cooker tomorrow morning so that when I come home from work it is ready to eat. It's starting to feel a lot like fall around here, and everyone knows that fall is slow-cooker season. I want to marry my slow-cooker, and by extension Meghan, who gave it to me. Any takers? Meg?
iii. My job search continues apace. Life after grad school is tiresome and terrifying, both. Long-time readers of this blog (if such a creature exists) will remember my deliberations over what to do after my undergrad degree... this is like that, only worse, because I'm older, have more financial responsibilities, and have now invested even MORE time and money in my interesting, but non-fruitful, education. The stakes are higher. However, I am cautiously optimistic about finding a job. I have to review the employment facts:
a. Every time I am without employment lined up, I get all stressy, and I have nightmares about it, and I become irritatingly neurotic.
b. All the same, I have never had trouble finding a job. In fact, I think out of all the jobs I have ever interviewed for, I have gotten the majority of them.
c. IN FACT, I have a history of having jobs fall into my lap. I worked in a cool, albeit dysfunctional, research unit here at the university--a job I was offered via e-mail, as in, "How would you like a job?" I got my in in the textbook writing/researching/fact-checking world the old fashioned way, through nepotism, and those gigs continued long after the original nepotism connection ran out--sweet work if you can get it, since you set your own hours and work in your underwear.
d. Therefore, not only should I not be worried about not finding a job, I should actually shut up, so that people who really have trouble finding jobs won't hate me. It's just me--employers, men, puppies, and credit card companies find me irresistible.
iv. given points i (bring broke) and iii (being unemployed, but optimistic), should I buy Season 1 of Fraggle Rock on DVD?
Sundays are such a drag. They pretend to be part of the weekend, but they're really not, because you always end up spending them getting ready for the week anyway--doing laundry, dishes, ironing, vacuuming, whatever needs to be done so that Monday can arrive without crisis. In my case, this means preparing a handout about Knowledge Management. Sunday breaks my heart, every week. The good news is that after this coming week my class will be over, and I will get about 10 hours a week of my life back, and hopefully I will become a nicer person and stop snapping at my boyfriend on the phone for no reason.
I watched the first few episodes of Fraggle Rock with some friends last night, and I can't believe I never watched it before--it's sad to think that I lived 24 years of my life without the awesomeness that is Fraggle Rock. Deprived childhood/teenage years/early adulthood alert! In fact, Lost just keeps messing with me, so I might break it off for good and take up with Fraggle Rock. I love those crazy singing Muppets, flying through the air, and I am feeling my tolerance for ambiguity plateau. I might've just been sleepy, but this show even seemed to have more than its share of angst and nihilism, for a kids' show. I don't remember what it was, but SOMETHING that happened in one of the episodes we watched yesterday was a perfect demonstration of the idea of hegemony. (Also, side note... does anyone else notice how Bob the Builder seems to have some eerie similarities to the Doozers?
Nancy Wilson, from Heart, interviewed over at The Believer. She even talks about the moment in (her husband) Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous when the whole band starts singing Tiny Dancer, a moment that I have tried (unsuccessfully) to replicate in my own life, many times. (She helped write the "fake rock music" that Stillwater plays in Almost Famous.) About Heart's time based in Canada:
BLVR: I read that Heart was in Canada for a while. There’s some really great music coming out of that country right now—the Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, Sunset Rubdown, Neko Case, and Destroyer, to name some of my favorites. But those musicians are all born-and-bred Canadians. For you guys, why the north country?Actually, Neko Case isn't Canadian, but we'll take her. It's cool.
NW: Draft evasion. It was during the Vietnam War. Michael Fisher, who was the Svengali behind the band and Ann’s boyfriend, was evading. There was all kinds of drama surrounding that situation—like, when Ann came back over the border to get home for Christmas, she got the full-on third-degree interrogation and cavity search. She showed up really shaken that night, feeling like she’d been raped. The feds were all over it.
I am a volunteer question-answerer over at Alberta Library Ask a Question, where anyone (!) can type in any question (!) and some librarian-type will do their darndest to answer it. I am addicted to the thrill of answering questions. I am like a junkie. Last night at 10:30 (while I was waiting for the next LOST episode to download, natch) I knew I should go to bed... but I just wanted to answer one more. This morning when I got in to work, the third thing I check after e-mail and Facebook is the new questions list. On the other hand, it's not like I'll answer just anything. I mean, a lot of eighth-grader types come to this empty text-box with their boy problems, and that is not something I am prepared to deal with. But questions about shark biology, George H. W. Bush, Latin pronunciation, and identifying obscure quotes about aliens? BRING IT ON.
I'm totally hooked on the feeling of power.
I'm requesting my free credit report today, and I think you should do the same--in fact, I declare today to be official "credit report day." Check your credit, internets! Or no more porn for you!
In addition to "credit report day," today is also (informally, of course, as I only have the power to declare one official holiday per day) Plastic Bag Day. Over at Salon, they have written an article about plastic bags, "the most ubiquitous consumer item on Earth."
They're made from petroleum or natural gas with all the attendant environmental impacts of harvesting fossil fuels. One recent study found that the inks and colorants used on some bags contain lead, a toxin. Every year, Americans throw away some 100 billion plastic bags after they've been used to transport a prescription home from the drugstore or a quart of milk from the grocery store. It's equivalent to dumping nearly 12 million barrels of oil.Ghah! Petroleum! I am making a concerted effort to go plastic-bag-less, although yesterday I somehow ended up with 4 more than I had at the beginning of the day. This article will inspire me to face this problem with renewed enthusiasm.
Producer #1: So, we are thinking of a western... with chicks... in Mexico. It will have an amusing emoting horse, lots of heaving bosoms, Dwight Yoakam, and a train heist. But it will also be about economic exploitation, modernity, and the deep-seated evil that is American imperialism.
Producer #2: And there will be bosoms.
Producer #1: I said that.
Producer #2: Yeah, but it got kind of buried. I want to make sure we are clear about the bosoms.
Salma Hayek: Well, I was nominated for an Oscar, and I'm concerned about my status in Hollywood. I don't want people to start taking me too seriously. I mean, I'm not all Frida and Traffic! I have a fun side!
Penelope Cruz: Yes, I have also been nominated for an Oscar. And ever since Vanilla Sky I have been trying to convince American audiences that I am not boring. I made Sahara, but it didn't seem to help. I think because I played a doctor in that movie. Everyone knows doctors are boring, even sexy doctors.
Salma: The movie I got nominated for an Oscar for was better than the movie you got nominated for an Oscar for. Please, Volver? No one saw that. Almodo-who?
Penelope: Your unibrow got nominated for YOUR Oscar, not you.
Producer #1: Ladies, ladies, take it easy, now! I love this banter! We should integrate it into the movie! The characters you play can NOT GET ALONG at first, but then learn to respect each other! I love it! Don't change the dynamic!
Producer #2: Exactly. Everybody gets nominated for an Oscar, it's all good. That is the calibre of boobs-- I mean acting-- we need for this project.
Penelope Cruz: Tell me more about this project. What, would you say, are the chances that I could wear a crazy lace-up leather corset, chaps, a peasant blouse, tooled leather cuffs, a badass cowboy hat, and pointy boots?
Salma Hayek: And would this movie involve us doing any push-ups--IN A STREAM? Because personally, I like to be as wet as possible when I train. And preferably, can we get someone grizzled and respectable to play our mentor, like a Clint Eastwood type?
Producer #1: Sam Shephard is more in our price range.
Penelope: And can someone, at some point, shout Vive la revolucion?
Producer #1: I love it! Keep the ideas coming! We won't even have to pay script-writers, we can just storyboard my notes from this meeting.
Steve Zahn: I'm at this meeting too! I can be funny! I'll fall over all the time!
Producer #1: We can make this work. Although it may go straight to video. Mexican video.
Producer #2: BOOBIES!
I was feeling very pretty this morning when I left the house, what with my super-curly hair and my wedge sandals. And then this woman walked by me on the way to the LRT, and she was about five feet tall, and she was wearing a tiny, adorable turquoise suit, and I realized that I will never really be pretty, because I am a giant. I'm not soliciting for sympathy or refutations, just sharing my revelation. I should stop wearing shoes that make me over six feet tall, even if they DO match my shirt. I become instantly aware of how much space I am taking up.
My TV-makin' hero, Joss Whedon, interviewed over at the Onion AV Club.
With Buffy, I needed closure, because she, poor girl, had earned it. Buffy is about growing up. Angel is really about already having grown up, dealing with what you've done, and redemption. Redemption is something you fight for every day, so I wanted him to go out fighting. People kept calling it a cliffhanger. I was like, "Are you mad, sir? Don't you see that that is the final statement?" And then they would say "Shut up."
A news story about a giant LEGO minifig that washed ashore in Holland. The story recounts, "The toy was later placed in front of the drinks stall." Good to know.
Looking for off-the-beaten-path philanthropic opportunities? Passionate about preservation? Save a Film lets you make a donation to have an endangered 16mm film (most of them from the 1950s and 60s) digitized and put online, so others can have free access to it! In some cases, the 16mm print in the Academic Film Archive may be the only existing print, ANYWHERE. I kind of want to be a film archivist (when I grow up) so I probably get more choked up about endangered films than most people. Nonetheless, it would make a good gift, too, if you did it in someone else's name. Starting at $110. Here are some of the films eligible for upload.
records management
is such a gloomy prospect
make me a cocktail!
on tuesday evening
a little drunk and sloppy
and still not on task
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Currently listening to: Nada Surf - Mother's Day
via FoxyTunes
So, finished Season 3 of Veronica Mars, thanks to the magic of P2P. Oops, did I say P2P? I meant legal internet magic. Anyway, Veronica is working these cute side-ponytails and knots in season 3, which remind me of late-'80s/early-'90s elementary school and yet are somehow awesome. She is also wearing lots of little tiny jackets and sweaters and VESTS, which is something that I really can't condone. I want all my TV-ladies, whether they are in space, breaking apart rocks, or solving crimes, to dress in clothes that are practical yet comfortable. It's not a fashion show, people. (Oh, of course it is, but I can dream.) Aside from fashion, I have nothing to say about VMars Season 3. The first season of that show was probably the closest thing, in my books, to a perfect season of TV, and then the second season sucked a little bit, and then the third season sucked a LOT, although not enough to make me stop watching, because that would never happen. Hey, TV! Make sense! I was complaining about it getting cancelled, but then as I was thinking about it, I realized I have never really liked all the seasons of a TV show, so maybe it's just as well--the entertainment equivalent of mercy killing. The shows which I have liked the most seasons of (Gilmore Girls and Buffy, at five seasons each) are rare exceptions. TV lacks sustain. It tends to lose its charm, become mired in its own mythology, or give viewers the one thing they want, then have to take it away again because YOU SHOULD NEVER GIVE VIEWERS WHAT THEY WANT.
I also finished Season 2 of Lost and started Season 3. My summer TV project, tackling The X-Files from beginning to end, has completely fallen by the wayside. I'm so embarrassed! What about my GOALS? But this show is like crack. I am obsessed with it for all the same reasons as everyone else, with one additional reason: I am very compelled by underground research stations, especially ones decorated like the 1970s. It's pathological. Little, enclosed, modular spaces obsess me--all the more so if they happen to feature retro decor, or are reminiscent of bomb shelters.
Shut up, I'm cool, and yes, I did do other things this weekend besides watch TV. I also watched some movies (The Bourne Ultimatum and Spy Game, both pretty good). Oh, and I finished Alexander McCall Smith's The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs, and started the third book of the Professor Dr. von Ingelfeld trilogy, At the Villa of Reduced Circumstances. These books are so funny--constrained, mean-spirited, and old-fashioned. And short! I love them. Also, Alexander McCall Smith has the best titles for his books. I don't like the Ladies Detective Agency books that much, but the titles keep getting better and better.
Back to the digital salt mines tomorrow. At least, with a clean apartment and lots of .avi files on the compy, I feel I can face the week head-on.
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Currently listening to: Tom Waits - Little Drop of Poison
via FoxyTunes
James and I saw The Bourne Ultimatum on Saturday, and I have one question: Did Motorola pay to have the V3 Razr product-placed as the chosen mobile technology of assassins everywhere? I mean, can you HAVE detrimental product placement? At least my phone is pink, not grey or black, so maybe I have a slender hope of NOT being a soulless, anti-social psychopath.
Now that I have taken Records Management, and I have seen the error of my own record management ways, I have created a folder on my computer called "inactive retention." In it, I put other folders that are no longer in active use, but that are not ready for destruction or archival storage (which, in the case of my computer, also happens to mean destruction). Unfortunately, I still move these files around in a rather haphazard way, and not in accordance with any kind of retention schedule. (Besides, there is an abbreviation for this type of file use: SO, "until superceded or obsolete.") Still, I feel pretty good about it.
On Friday night I watched Spy Game with some friends from library school, including one in my records management class. We were surprised by the extent to which records management (or lack thereof) figures in this movie. Files are always moving around, being stolen and misplaced! Duplicate copies are being made, but I'm not sure that anyone is keeping track of what office is responsible for the master copy. You know? It's troubling. They should show this movie to recruit people into Records Management. Although that would constitute a trick, since actually the field (as far as I can tell) has nothing to do with espionage, or Brad Pitt. Unless you wanted to develop a file on Brad Pitt, with newspaper clippings. And then manage it.
(Oh: also visible in this screenshot of my documents on the compy is my "jobs" folder, the image for which is a foxy-looking lady shelving in high heels. Although if she's shelving, is she really a librarian? It's hard to say. It comes from the Law Librarians Blog/American Association of Law Libraries photo contest. Also visible is the Cheat's GameBoy-in-a-blender which symbolizes "miscellaneous," since I can think of nothing more miscellaneous than a GameBoy in a blender.)
I'm applying for jobs today, watering plants, listening to the Gothic Archies, and watching TV on my computer. I expect to finish season 3 of Veronica Mars today, and possibly find employment.
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Currently listening to: The Gothic Archies - Shipwrecked (from The End)
via FoxyTunes
This diagram shows my brave ship Josephine, en route to collect some more research data about a shark. Earlier tonight, overcome with greed for better research data, I allowed one of my crew members to get injured by making him dive while he was very tired. Bad Jocelyn! No more research awards for you!
James: Your ship's name is Josephine? Your ship has the same name as your phone?This is one of those conversations that could possibly appear on a stupid-quote website, and people could read it, and judge me. But since no one overheard it, I shall have to post it myself.
Jocelyn [scornfully]: My phone is not named Josephine! My phone is a boy!
James: It's pink!
Jocelyn: My phone and my iPod are in love, remember? And my iPod's name is Josephine! My phone is a boy, because my phone and my iPod are not gay. I can tell, because my phone NEVER tries to make out with my ear.
So, I wrote this extremely funny blog entry at 3:40 this morning, in my head. I was awoken by what sounded like one or more people stomping up and down the street in front of my apartment building, banging tin trash can lids together and shouting a "aaaah-ah!" song. This really happened, and if I had been more awake it might have seemed more weird. The blog entry was about civic responsibility and stewardship, but it was also very funny, and I think it had a STOMP joke in it. (Something to do with the guy being on the waiting list for STOMP, like Tobias and Blue Man group on Arrested Development, which I think is where my sleepy brain got the idea.) I think it might have also had a Nazi-related curfew joke as well. In that tired, 3:40 AM way, I thought, "That was hilarious, I have to remember that in the morning," and then I went to sleep. So. Just pretend you just read a hilarious blog entry, ok? Ha ha!
List: Sound elements for a downtown-Edmonton themed STOMP-type performance*
So last night I was changing the bandages on my injured foot, and something about its rawness and redness and injured-ness compelled me to take a picture. I know, it's gross. It's not like this is the bloodshed blog, so if anyone is grossed out, I apologize. But sometimes I want to post about charming books I am reading about German linguistics professors, and sometimes I want to post about how my feet are torn up and bloodied by my encounters with the world. (And yes, those are my cute plaid pyjama pants. This is a great day for Jocelyn-stalkers everywhere--a picture of my bloody foot AND a picture of my pyjamas!) (Apparently, "pyjama" is not the correct spelling, as the friendly blogger red-wiggly-line tells me. But I have no idea what the correct spelling IS, and also, I have always spelled it that way, so I think I have immunity. We have to grandfather in whatever the new, unknown spelling is. Basically, that is a long way of saying that I am not going to fix it.)
This Monday is Heritage Day, or Have a Long Weekend in August day, and I am getting full civic holiday mileage: missing work AND class. I shall use the extra day to celebrate my heritage, possibly by baking some fortune cookies or belly-dancing. Also, today and tomorrow I am in a very good mood because of the proximity of the long weekend. This morning I felt like that guy in the viagra commercial--not because I got lucky, but because there is a looming long weekend ahead, I get to go see a Werner Herzog movie tonight, and my shark research project is being more than adequately funded. Also, I know this makes me a dork, but I had a really productive, functional meeting yesterday in which many of my problems were potentially solved--most of them by XML. This is the opposite of scooters, it's anti-scooters.
OK, I'm officially addicted to that shark game now. I keep getting antsy because it takes so long to get anywhere, and my crew are tired and I don't want to make them do anything. There need to be things you can buy to un-tire your crew, like massages. And milkshakes. And also things you can buy to attract sharks. Like kittens.
