let's get out of this country

Mom: You know what I wouldn't mind doing? Seeing a musical! In German! Yeah!
Me: Mom, mom, you're losing it.
Mom: It would help my German! And it would be a musical!
Me: Mom, no!

Switzerland is driving us all mad. We're going to become alcoholics together, because it's all mom can think of to do.

On Thursday we were going to do something, but it's Ascension day and everything is closed.

Mom: I know what we'll do! We'll get out of the country! We'll go somewhere where they don't celebrate this holiday! Where can we go?
Me: What's the fastest way out of Switzerland?
Mom: We need to get out of Switzerland!

I'm so looking forward to being in Bologna with the spirited Italian sort. I just can't handle Bern anymore. I love it, but it's a little bit like a prison or a sanitarium or something.

Love always,
Clara

send em back

I miss playing beer pong and feeling my shoes stick to the floor.

That said, Monaco. That said, Milan. That said, Grand Prix. I don't know when I became the kind of person who is capable of being discontent given these kinds of circumstances.
I'm not discontent. I'm content. I'm not sure that discontent is actually a word.

There's a possibility that I'm coming back to DC in August for an internship. That would be nice. I miss America.

Then again, I saw a huge rainbow today, which is probably a sign that I should shut up and be happy where I am once in a while. I'm not sure. All I know is that I have a restless disposition and I haven't played (or watched) a game of beer pong in maybe two weeks and that feels completely unacceptable.

Love always,
Clara

vroom

Today was the race and wow cars can go fast these days. It was all very exciting.
It saddens me deeply that I missed crashing the international school's prom, but I hear they all had a marvelous time, even in spite of my absence.



Monte Carlo is beautiful. The weather has been perfect for the last few days. I think I even got a tan sitting out on the bleachers.
This summer is off to a great start.

Love always,
Clara

monte carlo

This is an interesting city. Everyone speaks French. There are nice cars everywhere. I've seen a lot of older looking men with tall hot gorgeous girlfriends.
It feels like a James Bond movie.

Actually, that air of espionage may have to do with the fact that I'm a fugitive in our hotel.

Today, Dad and my grandfather and his amazing girlfriend Betty went to the preliminary races while mom and I lay by the pool. They had a long and expansive day.

Mom: I can't believe all of the crazy things Betty has your father doing.
Dad: I think he's having her do these things.
Mom: Oh, that's right. He wanted your mother do do all these crazy things too.
Dad: Megan, don't say that in front of your daughter!

My parents clearly have dirty minds.
Tomorrow I'll go to the big race, and on Monday we'll drive home to Bern, where I'll get my next roll of disposables developed. Hoorah.

Love always,
Clara

milano

Oh my gosh what a day.
Mom and I have managed to do Italy in twelve hours. Our train pulled into Milano Centrale at 10:45, and between dropping off bags and shuffling home after dinner, we didn't stop once.

Mom met this marvelous italian girl named Isabella at a University of Richmond event in Bern, and called her up when we decided to stop here (on our way to Monaco... standard.) She met us at the train station and probably didn't stop talking for the next three hours (at which point she had to go back to her business school to give a presentation. I'm surprised her voice didn't give out). Isabella is one of those fantastically friendly people. It was marvelous.

The Swiss aren't like that at all. They're always polite, but they're rarely friendly.

Mom: Remember my friend [redacted]? She said to me, "I had to leave. I was too bubbly for Switzerland." And I was like, "You're not bubbly!" She wasn't even bubbly. But she was too bubbly for Switzerland.
Me: No one's ever too bubbly for America.
Mom: That's where they send the bubbly people.

I'd been getting cramped in that little country. Maybe I'd mistaken my claustrophobia for homesickness. It was nice to be in a big city with crowded squares and stylish people (Bern has none of these things).

Tomorrow, off to Monte Carlo. We will don sundresses and watch the cars go by and feel like we are in a Fitzgerald novel.

Love always,
Clara

traveling

I'm going to Milan with Mom tomorrow. After that, we're off to the Grand Prix. I'm not even joking. Clara is adding Monaco to the list of countries she's been to. Just another day in the life.

Anyway, travel necessitates new music. The internet always delivers.

Super Bass - Nicki Minaj
Always Spring - I'm from Barcelona
Mango Tree - Angus & Julia Stone
Ungirthed - Purity Ring
Wonderman (Jacob Plant Remix) - Tinie Tempah
Never Grow Up - Timeflies
Sun of a Gun (Jacob Plant Remix) - Oh Land
Belongings - Clock Opera
The Hustle - The Freeze Tag
Perfect Day - Cassettes Won't Listen
There's Something About Us Under The Sheets (Ellie Goulding + Daft Punk) - B-Roc of The Knocks
A Dope Flexaterrestrial - Mitch-Mash
Swimming In The Sky (Passion Pit, B.I.G., Beyonce) - Xaphoon Jones
Little Bit - Drake ft. Lykke Li

Love always,
Clara

i must be losing it.

This being-away-from-college thing has gone too far. I actually miss the Ratty.
And by that I don't mean I had one thought today involving Ratty nostalgia. By that I mean I looked up the Ratty menu online fifteen minutes ago to see what they would be serving me (Pink vodka sauce ravioli which is probably overcooked if I'm being honest here).

All of this because I'm hungry and we have no food in my house. Or, rather, we have food but it's all being used to create some kind of culinary masterpiece, the artistry of which will be lost on me, like it always is. Also we have some leftovers but not much, and it's all meat-based.
I've decided that I'll eat meat again while I'm over here, but not much. I'm still avoiding it, but I won't be a strict vegetarian (partially because the ethics of the situation are different on this side of the ocean, and partially because it's less convenient when I'm not feeding myself from the Ratty).

I need to get out of this house. I have another two weeks before I go to Italy (which will be amazing, I'm sure of it). Let's hope I survive.

Love always,
Clara

lads on tour

86940001, originally uploaded by clarabellum.

I've remembered why I like the kids around here so much. They're a banterous group of lads.

The other night at Oren's was... epic, in the sense that I could write a long and dramatic poem about it. This, though, is a picture of the night before.

All of this said, I'm still missing college like crazy. Yesterday, I felt like I'd run out of internet (the worst feeling), and I thought, "hm, what do I usually do when I'm bored like this?"
The answer to that question is that I usually go down the hall to bother Stefan or watch Scott kill zombies or distract Val from her linear algebra or take Hannah on in doodle jump.
I don't live down the hall from friends anymore. I live down the hall from my parents who are wonderful people but, truth be told, stimulating in a very different way. (Also, my mother doesn't like the way I dress. Fancy that.)

Anyway, swiss kids, let's go out tonight because I'm bored as hell.

Love always,
Clara

Love always, Clara

faces

'

So if I've creepily filmed your face in the last year or so, this is why. If I haven't creepily filmed your face in the last year or so, you've been in the wrong place at the wrong time (or the right place at the right time, depending on your opinions of privacy issues. Also there's the possibility that you actively prevented me from filming your face, in which case, you're lame.)
Enjoy, guys.
If you're not in the bunch that I saw last night, then I miss you terribly. If I saw you last night... oh hey. What a night.

Love always,
Clara

nocturnal

The sky was light and the birds were singing before I got to sleep last night.
Too much to think about, too much to do on the internet.

The internet is huge, you guys.

Anyway, I'm getting used to this nocturnal lifestyle. I tend to go for a snack around two or three in the morning, but I sleep through breakfast so they cancel each other out I think. I woke up at two today, took myself out on the town, and got a falafel.
Then I came home and Mom and I watched the Justin Bieber movie. That boy is dreamy.

I'm going over to Oren's in a little bit. Wish me luck on all of my endeavors. There will be many.

Love always,
Clara

out with the kids

Tonight I went out.
Being home is not so bad.

Thomas and I had some pretty wonderful conversations. He kept calling everyone "Clara" by accident. Clearly this means that he'd missed me so much that he'd been pretending everyone was me. To make him less sad.

Kyle told me he had to turn the cameras in my dorm room back on when I stopped keeping well enough in touch with him.

I spent probably thirty percent of the evening making Chris feel uncomfortable (intentionally or unintentionally). You know how I do.

Thomas
you make my mind fuck
Clara
hahahahahahahhaa
Thomas
i mean
you cause a mindfuck
hbusujgfbjugbqgujbgtjubtgjutg
don't ever join the circus!

Joining the circus was actually my backup plan. Damn.

Love always,
Clara

i'm back safely

Also I'm nocturnal.
I'm going to have to fix that one of these days.

I'm about to put that video I've been working on up, but I wanted to just check in before that. So hello.

Love always,
Clara

boxes

Eleven boxes later, I'm packed.

Me: Mom, I packed everything. I even packed my lamp. I covered it in bubble wrap and everything.
Mom: Wow.
Me: I know. You would not believe all of the things I did.
Mom: You mean you didn't just sit there popping all the bubbles like you used to?
Me: Well only for a little while.

Packing is the worst. My room is so depressing now and I'm getting nostalgic for everything. College is the best, and I'm going to miss it terribly.

By the way, if I've creepily filmed your face at any point in the last six months, expect to see the product of this sort of thing very soon.

Love always,
Clara

wing destroyer

The other night, we all got together and watched Animal House so that Teddy would understand the general American understanding of a fraternity. The non-vegetarians ordered wings from Domino's, but they forgot to bring the required sauces.

Teddy: So I called them to ask about when they would bring the sauces, but then I remembered that I'd put my name down as Eduardo Wing-destroyer Goldino. So I had to be like, "yes, this is Eduardo Goldino, I was just wondering about my sauces."

They took far too long with the sauces. Teddy rated them one-star on the internet. Now no one likes Domino's anymore. He's taken down the whole empire.

After the movie I went back to the library to finish up my syntax final. When I got back, I was high on accomplishment and everyone else was just generally punchy. I guess that's what happens at two in the morning on a Sunday.
We started playing with Google maps.

John: Valerie, how long would you guess it would take you to walk from your house to Hawaii?
Val: Do I get a canoe?
Nicole: You get a kayak.
Val: A kayak. Okay. Um... fifteen days.
Me: Fifteen days? To walk across the country and kayak to Hawaii?
Val: I walk fast.

Love always,
Clara

recruiting

Last night I spent a solid fifteen minutes telling Kelvin that he should join the foreign service. You can thank me later, State Department.
He really would be great for the job. He's a beast at learning languages, and has a desire to become "culturally fluent" in the places that he goes. I honestly think he's cut out for it.

Valerie and David tried to have a date last night but I crashed it. They say it wasn't a date and that both of them are actually happily in relationships with other people, and he was just buying her dinner because she had done him a bunch of favors, but I'm planning on using this as a way to become best friends with Megan. Who wouldn't want to be best friends with someone who singlehandedly prevented their boyfriend from cheating?

Also, I discovered that I'm really not that good at Beirut at all.

Last night was really fun.

Love always,
Clara

limerick day

So we're sitting at The Gate eating overly greasy pizza and meeting Valerie's (frankly somewhat bizarre) physics friend, when someone brings up the fact that Teddy likes to write limericks in his spare time.
I find it necessary to compose one about Andrew on the spot.

There once was a young man named Bower
Who lived in a very tall tower
His roommate was home
But he wasn't alone
So he banged his girlfriend in the shower

Not my best work, but in my opinion, impressive under the circumstances. It appears that I've started something. Suddenly we're on a roll.

There once was a boy from new york
Whose penis was damaged by torque
He screamed out in pain
(She'd thought that he came)
But she left him unable to pork

This went on for quite a while, and believe me when I say I've posted the tamest of the limericks. They were raunchy (which is the best way for a limerick to be).
Coincidentally, May 12th is Limerick Day. I swear to god, we didn't know this.

Love always,
Clara

chamomile tea really helps

Today I found something called Health.com. I wish I had known about this in time for my healthcare final. It would have been epically useful.

And by that of course I mean not useful at all.*

"The material in this site is intended to be of general informational use and is not intended to constitute medical advice, probable diagnosis, or recommended treatment"

While WebMD should be banned on the grounds of feeding hypochondria everywhere, Health.com should be taken down off the internet before people begin to think that any sort of health is about "Looking Slim while you Swim" or "Miranda Lambert is Having a Moment!"

I stumbled across this article and decided that some elements needed some addressing.

10 Things to Say (and 10 Not to Say) to Someone With Depression

• What to say: Do you want a hug?

I actually think everyone should say this to everyone else always because I think that the answer is more often than not, yes.

• What NOT to say: So you're depressed. Aren't you always?

Yeah, stop being such a fucking downer.

• What to say: We are not on this earth to see through one another, but to see one another through.

Also, speak exclusively in aphorisms that employ overwrought wordplay. Depressed people love wordplay. The pharmaceutical companies don't want you to know this, but the number one treatment for depression is wordplay.

• What NOT to say: It's your own fault.

On this note, you might also want to avoid saying, "FUCK YOU, DEPRESSED PEOPLE!"

• What to say: I love you. (Say this only if you mean it.)

This isn't atrocious but reminds me of It's Kind of a Funny Story which is a great movie by the way. I haven't read the book but I'll assume it's even better because that tends to happen. Anyway, there's a bit in the movie where one of the men in the institution tells the kid that the way to solve any problem with a woman is to tell her he loves her. It's funny because hijinks ensue.

• What NOT to say: Have you tried chamomile tea?

Chamomile tea helps even more if you present it with some wordplay. For example, all sadness goes away if you walk up to someone and say, "Be careful with this chamomile tea! It might mug you!"

Seriously though, don't tell anyone I told you this because there's a lot of money to be made in the mental health industry.

Anyway, I'm glad I could clear these things up.

Love always,
Clara

*Keeney had a fire alarm about an hour ago, and I talked to Ricky about being so sarcastic that even you're not sure what you really mean. What if my entire personality has been a sarcastic parody of myself for the last several years? This seems plausible and frightening.

doodle doodle doodle

Last night I played approximately three hours of Doodle Jump. This morning I had an exam. This afternoon I have no regrets.

It seems that some acquaintance of an acquaintance was cited for torrenting "My Little Panties 2" which I am pretty sure does not in fact focus on the garment at hand.

Andrew: The question is, why would you torrent porn when there is literally infinite pornography that you don't need to torrent? What was so special about "My Little Panties" that he had to torrent it?
Teddy: I don't know, I think there's something erotic about downloading porn. You have to wait for it.

Andrew suggested that Teddy just use the slower wireless network. That seems like a practical choice. He also suggested that girls freeze up occasionally when getting with Teddy, to preserve the experience.

There was a time when four out of five people in the room were focused entirely on doodlejumping.

Hannah: Fuck my fuck!

When doodlejumping, expletives don't need to make sense.

Today I was in the mailroom picking up packages containing cookies and shoes (best post-exam rewards ever, by the way), and I ran into David's girlfriend Megan. I've decided I have a girl-crush on her so David better watch out. We had a whole conversation about their Japanese class and her shoes (which are great).
I basically want to be her best friend now. It might be an issue. I'm going to have to start using David to get to his girlfriend. David, if you read this post, please facilitate this in whatever ways possible. Set me up with Megan please. Thanks. Cool.

Love always,
Clara

stefan loves me.

Don't let him tell you otherwise.

I came back from lunch today and decided I'd stop in to see how he was doing. Sometimes it's fun to surprise people when they least expect to see you, and his door was open. It struck me, today, for whatever reason, that the best way to make an impression would be to hide behind his doorframe until the right moment struck, and then jump into his room in a burst so that he would never see me coming.

The moment struck. I jumped.

Me: [jumps into the room]
Stefan: [blinks] I'm just going to keep scratching my butt.
Me: That was exactly as satisfying as a conversation with you. I'm going to go now.
Stefan: Good.

I hope he doesn't mind me saying that he scratched his butt right in front of me on the internet, but it happened and I am a knight of truth. Kierkegaard never talked about that kind, but Kierkegaard never knew any bloggers either, so that's probably why.

Love always,
Clara

glitter

Andrew: Today my mother sent me a picture of my cat's paw.
Me: I saw my dog on skype today. I win.
Andrew: I saw both of my cats in person today.
Me: Oh.
Andrew: Never try to defeat me.

Mother, please step it up. Andrew is winning. Also, Mother, if you're reading this, please skip the rest.

I came home two nights ago covered in glitter and lube, and I am going to tell you why.

Friday night was a relatively chill night from the start in Keeney. We decided that classy cocktails would be a fun thing to make, so we spent a solid amount of time hanging out in Scott's newly half-empty room (Ken, we all miss you terribly). Slowly people worked their way down to play Beirut, listen to music, and generally do whatever it is that we do on a Friday.

However, this Friday was unusual in that there seemed to be a circle of people in their underwear on the quad. Nicole and I had decided to investigate, but she got wrapped into a game, so I boldly adventured out on my own.

Me: Hello! What is going on!

It was at that point that I realized the two guys approaching me were also covered in glitter and paint. They explained that it was a birthday party for their friend who had lived in Keeney for two years in a row. They also explained that they were open to welcoming new paint-party-goers. They were out of paint it appeared, but had ample glitter.
The glitter was sustained in some kind of gooey substance, a fact I discovered when someone smeared it on my arm. I discovered that it was lube much later on, once there was no turning back.

I convinced the others to come out with me, before going upstairs myself to shower. At around that time, some Zetes showed up, people got naked, and DPS made an appearance. I'd say it was the most quintessentially weird college experience I've had all year.
I hope next year has as many of these moments.

Love always,
Clara

the brown university mens social society

Also known as BUMSS. Also known as AEPi. Also known as the story how I may have broken my toe.

The formal was last night. I ran into Lucas in the morning and he was acting fishy.

Lucas: Hey Clara, excited for tonight?
Me: Yeah. You should come!
Lucas: Nah. Do you know the rules?
Me: What rules?
Lucas: We're not a frat, and it's not a formal. The venue thinks we're a men's charity society.
Me: Right. Cool.

Apparently the mill (an historic landmark) doesn't host fraternity events, so the boys had to get creative. It wasn't a lie so much as a half-truth anyway. They definitely do charity work, and they are indeed a social society of sorts, if you're flexible.
It counts.

The formal itself was a ton of fun. All of the classes had to sing their serenades (Friday, Girlfriend, Party in the USA) while the dates watched in a mix of shock, glee, and horror. I did my share of peoplewatching (which you must know by now is one of my favorite activities). It was all a marvelous time.

Then Benny and Alissa and John and I watched Silence of the Lambs.
Because that makes a lot of sense.

On the way out though (taxi back to the frat house, frat to keeney), I tripped on some steps outside. Take that not as an indication of any inebriation (blasphemy!) but an inevitable consequence of the two facts that I was wearing heels and those particular steps had basically zero friction. I had to pretend I was okay, because the only thing more embarrassing than falling down the steps is falling down the steps and actually hurting yourself, but now my pinkie toe is still swollen and possibly broken.

Not so good.

Anyone who saw me limping down Wriston this morning (high-tailing it to an ultimately useless review session at the cruel hour of 11 AM) should know that I was fighting through the pain.

Love always,
Clara

P.S. This has been a rambly post. Look at how much I care.

other gender differences

That last post got me thinking about sexism and double standards and such.
I started thinking that way because I remembered that I do, at times, call my boobs "the girls," but generally I call them that only if someone else has called them that first.
Then I asked myself who on earth would be referring to them in such a manner.
The answer: Extended family.

It is astounding how many somewhat distant relatives thought it was completely acceptable to comment on my "developing body" during my middle school years.

"My, haven't you grown up!"
"Oh, you are certainly your mother's daughter!"
"Look at what these genes gave you!"

I was generally shy about it, and they would reassure me that a "developing body" was a great asset, as if my discomfort were with my boobs themselves and not the fact that they had somehow become open to frank conversation.
In retrospect, I don't know what one is meant to say to that kind of thing.

John: Guys don't get that at all. It's not like they come up to you and say "Oh wow, your penis has grown!"
Me: If they did, that would be a serious issue.

It would! And it's probably just as serious when it happens to girls! But it's more immediately physically obvious for girls, and because such qualities are in general considered attractive, people seem to think it's fair game.

Note: Next time you are around a thirteen year old girl, do not comment on her body at all because it will come out wrong.

This is the most times I have referenced my own physique in any two consecutive blog posts and it makes me feel a little uncomfortable, but I feel the need to enlighten everyone to the awkwardness of familial boob-comments.

Love always,
Clara

things one uses to think

Nicole and John and I went to the Ivy Room last night for some falafel and greek yogurt. Michael showed up and the boys started talking about frat things that Nicole and I were not especially interested in, so we decided to start our own conversation that they couldn't participate in either.

Me: So. Bras.
Nicole: Yes.
Boys: What?

We told the boys that this was a girl conversation and that they should go about their business as usual and not mind us one bit. We did in fact begin to discuss bras (strapless ones, and whether Nicole wanted to borrow one).

Somehow the conversation in general turned to penis-naming. Nicole thinks it sounds like a fun thing to do if she had a penis. I was not so sure. People have in fact asked me what I call my boobs, but I don't call them much of anything, except "the boobs."

Nicole: I think the difference is that guys think with their penises sometimes. We never think with our breasts.
Me: What would they even say?
Boys: *nodding* That definitely happens.

I think if I let my boobs do the thinking, the only thing I would ever do would be buy bras. I would just wear really nice bras all the time. It would be kind of nice, but nothing to base a life philosophy upon.

It says good things about the female half of the population that we let our heads do basically all of the thinking.

Love always,
Clara

can I borrow a pen and SCREW YOU

Hannah: My director tried to bond with me over the fact that we're both in multiracial relationships. It was kind of racist. She said that basically the only reason someone would go into one was to make a political statement. I mean, I'm making a political statement with Andrew, but it's not because he's white. It's because I believe in retard rights. They deserve regular sex too, for a little while.
Andrew: You're just giving me an experience with sex before I'm alone for the rest of my life.
Hannah: That's right, dear.

Hannah really is doing a great thing for the movement for the rights of the mentally impaired. I admire her a lot. Really.

Me: Can I borrow a pen of yours?
Stefan: Did you just say "up yours"?
Me: I said "of yours." Not like, "Can I borrow a pen and also fuck you!"
Stefan: Can I borrow a pen and I hate you.
Me: Can I borrow a pen and you're a giant asshole.

For the record, Stefan isn't always a giant asshole. Only a significant fraction of the time.
He's a good study buddy though. We're going to kill this Brain Damage exam. And after that happens, this week is going to get a lot better.

Love always,
Clara

where were you?

It's 11pm on a sunday night, and thirteen of us are sitting in Andrew and Teddy's room staring at the projector. There's an empty pizza box on the floor (god knows how long it's been there) and somehow a dart stuck to the ceiling, and everyone is more or less transfixed by the screen.
Osama bin Laden is dead.

Rewind fifteen minutes. We're crowded around the couch trying to watch 2001: A Space Odyssey and figuring out how to cope with the lack of dialogue. Valerie comes in.

Val: Guys, I just talked to my mom. Bin Laden is dead. We have his body. Obama's going to speak in like, five minutes.

I get running around for an ethernet cable so we can set up the iptv (of course, it's unnecessary by the time I get back). Naturally, it's another half hour before the president speaks. We kill the time listening to BBC coverage while watching the faces of the guys on NBC and imagining they've taken on the voices of British women (this is a little too hilarious for some of us to handle. It reminds me of those bitches on the History channel). Stefan is annoyed that we won't watch Fox.

The president speaks. Bin Laden is dead.

We stare at the screen for a little while longer (Andrew had needed a projector for a martial arts event last night, and I think it's glorious timing to have such a setup in his room). People in DC are freaking out. People in New York are freaking out. People everywhere are freaking out. Some of us decide to go down to the Rhode Island state house.

We grab a flag out of Sean's room. Two flags actually -- Andrew insists that we also represent Britain in our display of patriotism, because we are unilateral and value our allies. We think he's a bit silly. I grab my coat, and we head down to the only location of any civic significance in the city of Providence, and there is no one there, so we shout for a while and pretend to give speeches and pass around a single PBR.

Some drunk boys from Johnson & Wales turned up as well, shouting with us, and we left when they picked up a cinderblock and realized their potential. On the way back, we saw a bunny.

Nicole: An impromptu civil demonstration and a bunny! Best night ever!

Kelvin was angry that anyone was excited about the death of another human being. I see where he's coming from, but for a long time last night I just felt awesome. Sorry for partying, I guess.

Love always,
Clara

finals stress vs. the existential crisis

I think my parents raised me with weird ideas about stress. Nothing was ever what it was in my house. Every panic about a scraped knee was in fact my little wise soul grappling with the facts of vulnerability and abandonment.
My dad has been known to come into my room when I'm having a bad day to tell me how terrifyingly large eternity is.
Mom, on the other hand, tends to ask me what's really bothering me.

This has led to a particular awareness of what the real panic-inducing things really are. While I appreciate the perspective that my parents handed down, it's not the most practical thing.

Right now, I'm stressing out about a final that I have in three days, but my first instinct upon acknowledging that stress is to say to myself, "Well, what's the real issue? Clearly it's not the exam."
Then, perhaps, the real issue is the end of freshman year, which for all of its excitement has been one of the best years of my life. But no, that's not wide enough. Maybe the real issue is the fact that now that I'm almost 25% done with my undergraduate education, I am forced to accept the fact that I will have to figure out what I want to do in the real world someday somewhat soon.
And have you ever thought about how terrifyingly large eternity is?

And do you even remember that I have a final in three days? Because I'm here, freaking out about eternity, and definitely not studying.

So, um, thanks mom and dad.

Love always,
Clara

i'm officially obsessed with sundresses and it's a problem

To be fair though, the whole campus looks like they've caught this bug. It's not even warm out today (a now-chilly-feeling 58 degrees. I do not miss winter at all.) and I'm sitting in the Blue Room looking around at all of the other people who presumably got dressed, decided to study on the Main Green, and then realized it was too cold to be wearing a sundress outdoors.

No matter. Nothing a cardigan and willpower won't fix.

Another clothing-type item that I've developed an unhealthy affinity for: my wedges. They were a birthday present (Thanks, mom) and they make me at least three inches taller, which makes me rather tall. I quite like it. Being rather tall also makes me rather intimidating.
Some people, of course, can't handle how intimidating I am. I discovered this at the orchestra party on Friday.

BlueShirt: Wow, why the fuck are you wearing those shoes? You must hate yourself.
Me: Excuse me! That was very rude!

Very rude indeed! I am more or less certain that he was just upset that I was taller than he was, which is pretty standard insecure boy behavior. Poor BlueShirt insulted me several more times over the course of the night, and I retaliated by refusing to learn his name.
Wedges, I have decided, are the newest and most practical way to sort out people who can't handle me. Thank you, wedges.

Love always,
Clara