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Life of the Bored and Taskless.

Monday, July 17, 2006

I can't sleep. I chalk it up to too much sleep this morning and too many thoughts on my mind.

Someone the other day said something that really shook me to the core. We were discussing 9th grade, and he said that, back in the day, I used to think that I was too good for everyone. After vehemently denying this, I paused. Was I really like that? At the time, I considered myself to be a real dweeb based on what I assumed others thought of me. Sure, I had a decent amount of buds, and I usually stayed true to myself, but there was a part of me that was unsatisfied with what I had. There was a tiny spot on my brain that said I was not good enough. I never got "the guy," anything but chorus roles, or any teachers that truly believed in me, which is the support that I wanted most (we all know how attentive my parents are).

I rarely was rewarded for doing well, because, try as I might, I only seemed to do ok, not great. Most of the great people just happened to be, and still are, close friends of mine. My competitive side deflated, and as a result, I shuffled to the background. I think the last day of 9th grade was a major factor in this move. Let them shine, and I'll support them, because that seems to be what I'm best at anyway. I'll be the emotional coach and the comic relief.

Seems like the jester's lost her touch and has grown a bit stale with apathy as of late. Not only am I not good enough for me, but I'm not good enough for them. I never felt the obligation to try so much, and it seems with friendships that trying is the side order that comes with kidding one's self. If I truly have lost the ability to do what I'm best at, who am I?

Maybe it's my fatigued brain that's spewing this out (it is almost 3 AM), but sometimes I have the incredible urge to just leave everything. Pick up and go. Stop talking to people. All of that craziness. Why? Because I've disappointed myself and others, and that's what embarrasses me the most. I can't stand myself, so maybe I need to go back to the drawing board and come back with a better me. Cripes, I wouldn't even be thinking about these things if I were actually content with my current position.

Now that I've gotten that off my mind a bit, perhaps I can pass out now.
"Sleep tight, grim right..."

2:35 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Saturday, July 15, 2006

Lately, my daily thoughts and dreams have reflected a current trend that runs through my mind: the past. More specifically, people with whom I shared a stronger connection in middle and high schools. Thankfully, I got to see a few last night when I went to Sean's Bastille Day party (a lovely tradition) and post-party swimming at Caitlyn's house (where I learned that a bra and panties can double as swimwear when necessary).

Although I graduated high school a mere year ago, I still have emotional floods of nostalgia whenever I see these people. They have all been cryogenically frozen in my mind, and it is always a pleasure to see them thaw. My class has yet to fling their arms open and run screaming with heads squared towards mystery into "the real world." We have yet take on the toll of age and life and wrinkles, or the lack thereof, that truly indicate just how stable a person is.

Sometimes, I glance at the more "mature" friends of mine, and little naïve me gets the feeling that they have much more to go through before they reach the top shelf of maturity that self-delusion has prematurely placed them on. Perhaps I have absolutely no authority on this subject. I, with undeclared major and lacking motivation and self-esteem in hand, take on "the world" with an open mind, optimism, and the absence of pressure which time adds slowly as the calendar spins.

I am immature and I repeatedly open myself up to crushing blows and reality bitch slaps. I am youth, and I'm full of it. I eat all of the cookies you hand feed me, and when I try whipping up a batch, it's not quite the same. However, I do try more than half the time. I know it's not enough, but I'm working on it. I think this coming school year will be a vital turning point in my life, if I have anything to do with it. I need to push myself along, cut back on distractions, and try to focus. It's truly easier said than done; focusing is one of my biggest problems, especially when I know I can do something. I'm not even going to pretend that it makes sense.

My craned neck and arched back are a bit fatigued, so I'll end this post with a clip from dreamworld:

(Jacquie and unknown guy - with whom she's curiously comfortable - are kissing in staccato.)

Mr. Man: Would you like to have sex?
Jacquie: Uh huh!

(Man and Jacquie kiss up a storm. Man pulls out three green condoms.)

Jacquie: You should probably go with the medium. The others would definitely fall off.
Man: Yeah, you're right.

(Tazmanian devil kiss action while couple moves to bedroom.)

Jacquie: Is this your parent's bedroom?
Man: Yeah.

(It doesn't matter. They furiously kiss. They're about to shred their garments when someone walks in...)

Man: OH! Heh, hey mom...
(Boy, did he have a death grip on those rubbers behind his back.)

Mom: What are you guys doing?
Man: Nothing.
Jacquie: Yeah.
Mom: Ok, well, (says something and everyone walks into another room)

Blast that woman! I would have had my first ever sex dream had she not barged in. A romantic comedy, go figure. Insert Jennifer Aniston and watch it become box-office gold.

11:54 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Occasionally, I get the feeling that I'm not reaching my full potential.
Then I decide that there's nothing I can do about it and reach for another potato chip.

Last night, I had at least four dreams. All of them were equally odd yet strangely pleasing. I went to prom again, turned down the proposition to dance with the Honduran dishwasher, Manuel, and did other momentous things. They smack my active conscious with a THWAP usually when I'm in the midst of doing something tedious, and I recieve the incredible opportunity to relive an awkward moment (or four) and laugh to myself. And people wonder why I'm crazy.

Sometimes, I wish I could can my dreams or turn them into a late-night clip show. It would be the kind of show that Mommies would advise their children not to watch. The content is not overtly sexual (or sexual at all, really), foul, or disturbing. Just weird.

The other day, I decided that when I finally get a glorious apartment to put all sorts of neat shit in (AKA The American Dream), I'm going to get a nice TV. Not a Monday Night Football kind of TV, but a decent sized one. Then I'm going to destroy it. Just a thought. I think it would be a nice thing to do, you know, very liberating. Maybe I would read more or exercize. Find a new hobby. Play the piano again (assuming that I would have one). Or maybe I'd buy another. Who knows? Some people are built to change and others are not. I haven't quite figured out which kind I am, but like most, I probably learn towards the latter.

I also decided that, one day, I'm going to go to Iceland. I'll probably like it very much, and because of the mild climate in both summer and winter (thank you Gulf Stream), I'd stay. This would be, of course, if I go absolutely nuts and decide to quit being sentimental and self-limiting. I think you can agree with me that it would be quite a change of scenery and very bold. Of course, the language is one of the hardest to learn, but I'd go to night class. Maybe I'd become some entreprenuer of an "offbeat" business or suddenly grow fond of animals of the feline variety or speak only in broken Franglais...

I know I sound completely off the wall, but that seems to be the direction my mind takes when I give a little slack in the cranial leash when I'm exhausted. Or it could be all of the They Might Be Giants songs I've absorbed, spongelike, within the past month.

Donc, c'est ca pour maintenant. Peut-etre, j'ecrirai dans ce week-end apres le concert de CSNY ou le match football d'Italy et France, ou quand je me chercherai. Je ne sais pas. Boeuf! er Bof! C'est le meme chose, vraiment.

6:36 PM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Me in a tree. Circa 1990.

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