.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

Life of the Bored and Taskless.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Tonight, I was listening to Sigur Ros, which I have not done in a while. As expected, I went into "song mode" (essentially, I zone out, block out everyone, and immerse myself completely into the music) while staring out the window. I saw the Hillside complex, the lights of Bethlehem, and the charcoal sky. The wind occasionally sifted through the window screen and gingerly breathed on my face. I singled my focus on a streetlamp as I hummed/tapped/sang along (in semi-madeup Icelandic).

During this time, it seemed as if I were completely alone. Not alone in the emo "I'm so alone" sense of the word. It was an exquisite solitude. However, I yearned for someone to be feeling the same way, so we could be together in this "holy moment" (seriously, watch "Waking Life"). Whenever I attempt to prompt this feeling from people, naturally, it does not work. I know that musical taste is biased, and not everyone likes what I do, but I view this as a valiant gesture however selfish it may be. I want people to experience the same euphoric feeling from the music with me. It seems so natural, yet I do not believe that I have truly found this. I do have time, after all.

As I articulated in my college essay (I believe that Dan is the only one who reads this blog and has read that essay), this feeling is a sort of "sonic spirituality." From what I have gathered in discourse with believers of God, it seems as though this feeling that I get is akin to feeling deeply connected with the "creator." Perhaps, this soulful bond with music is the closest I will ever come to experiencing a simultaneous connection to myself and the rest of existence. However trivial it may seem, it means everything to me. I am not kidding when I say that my CD binder is my most valuable (material) possession.

It is comforting to think that somewhere out there, there was someone else staring out the window in "song mode" at the exact same time as I was. One psychologist (his name escapes me at the moment, Eric something) theorized that what people strive to do in life is escape from freedom. A person can only attain freedom when they are absolutely alone. The escape part comes into play, because really, who wants to be alone?

When I find freedom in music, it is fulfilling to say the least. It is an experience that I would not trade for any other, except one: to dwell in this state with someone else. What could be better than experiencing freedom and togetherness simultaneously? It's the best of both worlds; it is for me the essence of love. Until I find this feeling, or something like it, in life, I do not think that I will ever be fully complete.

Is this human nature dictating to me that I have to find a mate? I don't need a mate just yet. I simply want to find someone who is willing to share with me a moment of musical silence, to tune into a measure of humanity's song and in the process, add a few notes to the masterpiece.


11:51 PM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

I wrote this in Western Lit. class yesterday during a discussion about love (I'm glad that attentiveness is not being graded):

Relationship Penance

A wolf in boy's clothes held my hand and I let him touch my cheek.
I took advantage of a senilic Queen and led her on a trail of crumbs.
A pest blurred my vision and I smacked it away.
A Cheshire salesman made me believe in his slight-of-heart.
I crushed a Jewish mother's faith in her beloved.
A gentle soul made me believe in love,
and together we watched it fade into the past.
Just after future's seed was implanted in my mind.

It's not great, but it's a decent summary of my past experiences. God knows what will come next...


10:50 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Boy, does my mom spill the beans when she's had too much drinky-drink...

Anyway, it's that time of the year again, although it seems as if it's that time of the month. Hold on, that didn't sound right...

I'm thinking about relationships. I know, I know, it's shocking. After having heard about my lesbianic dream and considering my manliness and the "I don't give a fuck" facade that I sometimes puts on in the company of those of the opposite sex...deep down, I'm actually the relationship type (Meaning, I like relationships. I wouldn't go asking any of my ex's about how great of a girlfriend I was, because results may be...interesting...).

I think this started today when Nick started showing me his Match.com profile and whatnot (speaking of which, Joan Rivers is on that website now!) and also when my brother disclosed his girl problems. Well, problems WITH girls that is (although he DOES want to dye his hair bright pink). Apparently, some girl down the street wants to have sex with him, and "all of the 9th graders get laid". Well shit. I must not have really been a ninth grader. I'm a sham.

So, I used my own kind of Match.com: Facebook. Oh, come on, don't tell me that you haven't used it to look people up if you're single. Anyway, I decided to do a little experiment. Is it true that "all of the good guys are either taken or gay"? I checked it out, and it turns out that this is mostly incorrect...as far as Moravian freshman males go.

I wasn't at all surprised by what the majority of guys put in their profiles: they like Wedding Crashers (the meatloaf line appeared in many profiles), they like incredibly shitty music, the like sports and sports/action movies, they love to drink, and they think that reading is for pussies. Jesus, I wonder where the meathead stereotype came from. Oh wait, they do it for us; how convenient.

But then, something odd happened. I looked at the guys in relationships. Naturally, a lot of this same crap appeared, but then there would be moments of glory in an otherwise bland list of profile. I realized something else: I'm already friends with many of the guys who I would consider dating, whether or not they are single. Yeah, I'm rambling, but I have a computer and it's almost 1, so...yeah.

Well, even though I haven't stuck "gold" yet, I think I have some time. There's always the incoming freshmen (I'm not going to lie; I saw a possible candidate) and more experiences to meet people and/or get to know people better.

Alright, that was pointless.

In other news, I saw Botulism today. My two favorite quotes from this endeavor are:
1) "Do you have black people at your school?"
2) (After hitting Scott on the head with an empty water bottle)
"You shouldn't do that. The plastic could break and cut his head, and then he would get an infection and you would need needles..." *babbles on while I leave the room to crack up*

Sigh.

I have some sleepage and CD listen-age to do (I got "The Best of George Harrison" and a Spiritualized CD today at Siren for 8 bucks!). Happy Easter.
~ Jacquie

P.S. What the fuck does a bunny have to do with the resurrection of Jesus? I'm sorry if that offended anyone's ideals, but I have to know this.


12:29 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

(To the tune of "Pleasant Valley Sunday" by The Monkees)
"Another Lehigh Valley Wednesdaaaaay, here in slacker greyhound laaaaaaand..."

More to come later.


11:15 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Monday, April 10, 2006

I was talking to Chris and Clint today while walking back from CVS, and we realized that currently, Looney Tunes are rarely shown on Cartoon Network. So it got me thinking.

"Huffy bikes and L.A. Lights,
iPods, internet, cell phones.
Grass stains, Tide will clean them.
Blood stains, you're on your own."

I'm genuinely afraid for our generation, but I am totally petrified for the ones that follow. I know I'm not the only one who has this fear, but seriously, are we going to cut it? As childhood innocence and wonder becomes replaced with complete apathy (with life, that is. Electronic gizmos and smut and violence are always entertaining), what is the quality of life going to be like in the future?

Maybe I should go with the millenial dispensationalists (doomsdays groups, super-fundamental Christians, etc.) and say that it can't possibly get any worse, and this world is going to end soon. But the thing is, it's not. I hope that we don't kill ourselves off like we are programmed to, because I think that deep down, we're a little better than that. We're animals, yes, but do we have to be "animals"?

I'll cut this rant short because I have to go do some homework, and I'm not stating anything genuinely thought-provoking. There is a lot to fear in this world, and I know it's not going to get any better overall in years to come. I just have to make sure not to perpetuate fear and hate during my life and I'll be doing my part for mankind, however infinitesimally small it may be.


7:25 PM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Sunday, April 09, 2006

As I was walking home from the Contra dance last night, (more specifically back to Bernhardt), I looked up. There was a pale birch tree set against a cobalt night sky. I thought to myself, "If someone did a painting of this tree, it would be beautiful." Then I thought to myself, no, it wouldn't be. The background is too dark; too much of the tree is hidden, and the actual composition of the painting would be seen as poor. The ends of the branches had melted into the sky, and the actual outline of the tree was dull.

I guess that is the difference between art and people. Alright, I know, it sounds ridiculous, but bear with me. The reason why I find people so intriguing is because you cannot possibly see everything on the surface. The actual painting of a person hides so much from those who dare not seek to tear away at the canvas; we're three-dimensional in all definitions of the word. In art, what you see it what you get. I'm sure many art critiques would like to put up their dukes if they ever read that statement, but regardless of how real a painting is, it will never be as beautiful as the real elements from which it was inspired. You are more a painting of you will ever offer to the world, no matter who painted it, or how famous it is. I'm sure (or I hope) that the "real" Mona Lisa was more interesting than the painting. Just don't get me started on this painting at the Louvre. (Can anyone say OVERRATED?)

Anyway, that was just a thought that ran through my head last night. I just hope that people think there's more to me than just my portrait.


8:29 PM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Ugg. I'm skipping stat class this morning because it feels like the Trojan War is being reinacted in my stomach. In reality, this vomit stew is probably caused by a) thinking about death too much (this girl on my floor mom's died suddenly yesterday from a brain aneurism) b) getting flustered and angry over Zach c) procrastinating to the point where I'm on overdrive and d) It's probably that "time of the two weeks" (it's not month anymore because apparently, I'm a bad Pill taker). I just felt like venting a little (procrastinating some more) before I get back to work. I, and my stomach/abdominal region, could care less about Jesus and the Gospels right now, but that's life, right?

A tout a l'heure,
Jacquie


9:40 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!


12:17 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Drew Panettieri, this kid that I knew from middle school, died recently. I didn't know him all that well; I think I had 7th grade art class with him (granted, our art table was close), but the reason I mention him is because it still surprises me that people can just...die. I could just die any day now, and this freaks me out.

Mortality is interesting; I don't know if I will ever get to the point where the idea of death just phases me. I suppose I will when I'm older, you know, after my parents die, after my aunt dies, after our new bunny dies, (not Botulism, I'm surpised that she HASN'T died...I'm waiting any day for her to kick the bucket) etc. I just don't want that point to come any time soon. I'd like to be surprised by my own death as well. If I get cancer, boy, will I be pissed off. I'd just like to go as naturally as possible. I don't want to die from a jazzy plane crash or say "bye bye" after my bungee cord snaps and I collide head first with god knows what (First of all, bungee jumping is one of the most stupid ideas that mankind has produced. Secondly, if I ever even CONSIDER doing it, you, yes you, have the right to stage an intervention and/or shoot me. I'll be surprised, that's for damn sure, and at least I won't dive (figuratively and literally) into deeper levels of jackassdom).

So enough about death. How about life? I like it. I like the fact that I can go outside and play retarded volleyball if I want to. I can go to a disgustingly trendy art show and pretend that I'm genuinely interested in the art, when in fact, I'm just there because all of the restaurants have already closed, and the salsa was the greatest work of art in that stuffy place. It really was that good.

I like doing minor acts of vandalism, and have decided that I should do more, you know, just to lighten the mood of this place. My first act of "vandalism" was crossing out the "cookies" in the sign "Girl Scout cookies for sale." Apparently, the head honcho of CIT didn't appreciate it; screw him, I found it amusing. Little things like that seem to make the mundane a little less so.

Oh, and see the movie "Waking Life" if you haven't yet. It's an awesome mind trip wrapped up in philosophy. Kind of like a brainy burrito; it makes you think about issues instead of having them (think typical Mexican food aftermath).
Disclaimer: you might get motion sickness from the animation (which is incredibly inventive).

Well, I have to write a paper on the aforementioned movie, and perhaps get dressed (I know, it's the late afternoon, but it's Sunday and I'm a college student).

Farewell for now,
Jacquie


4:38 PM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Me in a tree. Circa 1990.

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Blog Buddies.
Fight the Boredom!
Ancient Ramblings.
End Credits.

Skin created by Athena Farhibide