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Life of the Bored and Taskless.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Q: What do finals and Christmas have in common?
A: They both suck.
Oh, and they both happen in December.

To commemorate the "Most Wonderful Time of the Year," I, in my desperate state of hyperprocrastination, parodied a familiar Christmas tune as a salute to the my kindred collegiate spirits out there.

You'll know us when you see us - completely FUBAR after getting an hour of sleep in 36 hours, having Amp drinking contests with ourselves (we win, we always do), and sacrificing hygeine along the way as if a 15-minute shower is severely cutting into paper-writing time ("Travis, you and my B.O. can go fuck each other, this fucking 15-PAGE PAPER FOR STATISTICAL ACCOUNTING OF MANAGEMENT: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO DUE IN..26 HOURS AND 42 MINUTES CAN'T, BRA!")

Travis has a point. Maybe we should shower. After the paper's due, of course.

“Oh, Holy Shite”*
(To the tune of “Oh, Holy Night”)

Oh, holy shite! It’s due tomorrow morning,
This is the night of unparalleled girth.
Long have I been inside, procrastinating,
‘Til night appeared, said my grade’ll drop in worth.
An Adderall, my weary brow is sweating,
For yonder breaks a new and cursed morn.

Asleep on the keys! O, hear the rentals’ voices:
“No child of mine! No child, You are no child of mine!
No child, No child, No child of mine!”

Led by the guise of faith in prior slacking,
With bleary eyes by my keyboard I sit.
So led by light of iMac brightly gleaming,
Here come the sheep for counting if I quit.
The Sin of Sins – an F in my own major;
At this point Facebook is my only friend.

I need to sleep, this weakness is no newsflash.
Behold my bed! Behold my comfy bed!
Behold my bed, Behold my bed.

I wish he taught content for this assignment,
His prompt is vague and his rubric’s unclear.
A few mistakes could throw my class alignment,
At this rate, I’ll have two Senior years.
Sweet Jesus, he sure graded very quickly,
To get mine, I’ll log into campus web.

Christ, that’s my score?! O curse his name forever,
His gradebook and tenure evermore proclaim.
His gradebook and tenure evermore proclaim.

*Note: It's only semi-autobiographical. I'm not in jeopardy of failing a Psych course or being a "Super Senior." I'm just not that cool.

3:17 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Tomorrow's my last Vespers service as an undergrad. Yikes.
Today, however, was the day to give my Senior speech to the rest of Women's Chorus.

Here it is, for your reading pleasure:

"Originally, I planned to do something a bit outrageous for my speech tonight; I planned on doing a parody of a past Women’s Chorus Vespers song “Exaudi Laudate” (turning it into an ode to Eduardo Azzati) but I’m both a poor planner and too much of a sentimental goober to pass up the opportunity to bore you with my feelings.

Sitting in Vespers during my last year as a performer, I realized that the services have mimicked my college career. At the first Vespers, just like our first day of college, I think we all don’t know what to expect. With college, we wonder about classes, people, and teachers. With Vespers – songs, performers, and conductors. Personally, I remember being utterly confused about the waving of the candles; with all of those gas lamps around, there’s bound to be some sort of Hollywood explosion. With Vespers, as in college, the next two years whiz by. Then there’s the last year, where you realize this really is it. After I snuff out the candle of my college career in May, and attempt to locate my family in a sea of faces at Graduation, I’ll likely be thinking: “What the hell am I supposed to do now?” If my college career were actually like Vespers, I’d say “go to Brew Works” – however – a) Brew Works is totally out of commission for the time being and b) waitressing just isn’t in the cards for me. Maybe my analogy was a bit off.

I think that part of human nature is taking comfort in the familiar – it’s why traditions such as Vespers survive over time. In our own lives there are those constant things that keep up sane – our friends, our families, and hopefully even one day, our “job” jobs. With Vespers, you could say I’ve looked forward to some of these constants year after year. There’s the trivial - the Brass Ensemble...that sounds like farts [Note: I didn't end up saying the last part of that statement because the BE people were beginning to arrive...], watching Bobblehead…bobble from the balcony (you know who I’m talking about), and making fun of the obligatory Zerkle gospel piece. And then there’s the meaningful - the angelic music that fills the room with hope and love. I also take comfort in the fact that no matter where I am or where I go in my life, Vespers will always take place the first two weeks in December. What can I say? It’s like my Super Bowl.

Women’s Chorus has been one of those constants for me, a four-year-long Vespers – it’s my weekly attempt at reaching that state of peace and harmony (no pun intended)(actually, pun intended) that is so desperately missing from everyday life. It has been a privilege to sing with all of you; I’m glad that you’ve all given me a chance to add my manly voice to the mix. And to Mr. Azzati – I think I can speak for all of us when I say thank you for inspiring us so deeply with your passion, your dedication, and most of all, your ridiculous Halloween costumes.


2:18 AM | Jacquie | 0 comments links to this post

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

As much as I love my major, sometimes Psychology can really be a downer. Especially when you begin to compare yourself to case examples and/or reflect on your own sleep patterns, which may or may not point to some sort of chemical imbalance, which may or may not mean that you're batshit insane. Or depressed. Or both. You be the judge.

Example 1:

Last night, I received approximately four hours of bad sleep. I consumed a substantial amount of caffeine throughout the day, and had great difficulty falling asleep. Once asleep, I had terrible dreams rooted in anxiety, which probably resulted from my thoughts about an impending major assignment (Note: which I'm currently putting off).

This morning when I woke up, I felt incredibly energized. In fact, I felt very much like a Cleaver, minus the wholesome breakfast; I didn't dread the day ahead of me or hide in my sheets.

According to several studies regarding depression and Seasonal Affective Disorder, sleep deprivation can result in mood elevation in depressed individuals.

Does this mean that I may be depressed due to this shared physiological trend exhibited by depressed people? Over the past 4 or 5 years, I've experienced bouts of depression, which usually coincide with the winter months. But wait, does that mean that I have SAD? Do I have anything?

Example 2:

Today in class, Dr. Toedter discussed a child who had virtually no visual memory.

"Can you imagine that? He would literally look at something on the board and then forget what it said midway through copying it down!"

Yeah, Dr. T, I can imagine it. Because I am that kid.

Or the child who couldn't figure out spoken word problems, because he had difficulty imagining and retaining them in his mind.

"Can you see what he's doing? He can't imagine the numbers, so he's repeating them back to himself and forgetting them in the process."

Oh wait. That's what I do. That's why I had to count the drawer four times at my job while my boss watched. It's a little more embarrassing because I'm 21. This kid was 11.

"When arranging the blocks, what most people do is envision the finished product in their head and cut them into four sections, so they know what position each of the four block should be in. He's not doing that. Instead, he's using a trial-and-error system because he can't envision that spatial arrangement in his head."

Wait, what? That's how you're supposed to do it?
Do I have a spatial/visual memory problem?

I could just be overreacting, but I feel as if I'm only now piecing together my flaws and the possible agents behind them. Genuine self-awareness is a scary thing...maybe I should hide back underneath the covers.

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

Me in a tree. Circa 1990.

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