playlists for crying

SNL was great this week, apparently. I just found this clip on Jezebel (I have so much love for Jezebel), and the comments section inspired me to make an entire spotify playlist of songs that make me want to cry, which I will never ever ever listen to straight through, because... seriously. Who wants to just sit down and cry? It's already a grey november day, and while nothing in particular is going wrong, I'm wearing sweatpants and listening to Konstantine by Something Corporate (which Daphna put on a mix CD for me the summer before I moved), and already feeling teary for no reason whatsoever.

Although, you know, my parakeets have been fighting a lot lately...

Love always,
Clara

P.S. if you have spotify and are feeling masochistic, have at it.

i'm always so busy now

I'm not sure that I like the fact that I've been blogging with less regularity. In fact, I'm sure that I don't like it, but I also don't want to poop out some words if I have nothing to say.

On Sunday I went to Newport with John and Dan and Mark and Nicole and Laura. That was pretty awesome. The beach is great, and friends are great, and walking around new places is one of my favorite things. Also, eating seafood and employing screw-top bottles.

On Monday I mostly did work, but some of it was done outside on the quad, which was nice.
The girls from Italy and I met up for froyo on Monday night, and we sat around in the grass and updated each other on our lives. Caroline and Michelle had just come back from New York, where they had a casual encounter with Courtney Cox.
We reminisced like crazy.

Yesterday I severely overslept, went to italian, and pretty much did work-related things all day until I had to go to the magazine office. Post-'s family weekend issue comes out on friday, and thirty pages take a lot longer to lay out than eight. Imagine that.

Honestly, that's been it, pretty much. Maybe I'm spending too much time doing work, or maybe I'm not paying enough attention to the world, or maybe I just feel less compelled to blog about the conversations that do stick out in my mind. I don't like being in a creative rut, trust me. I feel like I need to jumpstart something, or set something on fire, or pick up some crazy new (metaphorical) hat to wear, but I also feel like I'm too busy and too generally content to do any of that.

But today there were puppies on the main green. That was pretty exciting.
(I fear I am becoming a boring person. I think this is unfounded, but I am not certain.)

Love always,
Clara

P.S. Now I am stalking PhD programs in England because I would like my life to fast forward to the glamorous-intellectual phase, I think.

oh i don't wanna grow up

There's a career fair today and I kind of want to set it on fire. I ran into Michael and he'd come out with all of these ping pong balls, and I thought, "Well that looks like fun," but then I went in and it wasn't.

I realized, for one thing, that the only people I felt not-terrible speaking with were the nonprofits. They were all really nice. I grabbed a pamphlet from the Rhode Island Coalition for the Homeless (awkwardly acronym-ed RICH), and they were really friendly, as was the guy from City Year, which sounds like a pretty cool program, although any of that sort of thing is so far into the future that any thoughts I have right now are irrelevant.

Me: Okay, so I'm going to sign up for your mailing list, because this seems like a great program, and then I'm going to ignore your emails for the next year or so. And then start paying attention again later. Cool?
City Year Guy: At least you're honest!

Everyone else I talked to wanted to know whether I was an engineer or computer science major or nobel prize winner. There were no linguists waving flags. There were companies I'd never heard of, in great numbers. Abercrombie was there, inexplicably.

Last year, it felt like college was forever. We had four whole years of this! Woohoo! This year, it feels more like they're going to kick us out any minute, and it is stressing me out like no other. I only have five semesters left after this one? Only twenty more classes to pick? I refuse to acknowledge this reality.

Halfway around the room, I decided I needed to get out pronto. Near the door, Capital One had a table, talking about consulting or something. They were giving out sunglasses.

Obviously, I took the sunglasses and ran.

Love always,
Clara

letters to juliet

But really. We're going to Verona tomorrow. I'm wearing a floral dress and I'm going to hum to myself about love all day long.

I'm tempted to write Juliet a letter, not about my love life (interesting as that might be to exactly-no-one-other-than-me) so much as about myself.

I've been thinking about self-esteem lately, see, because it has been pointed out to me that one must live with oneself, hopefully, for a very long time. Unless you can see yourself as the greatest damn thing that's ever happened to the world, it's going to be really lame.

Rather, imagine you had a twin, but your twin sucked. I mean, insert whatever adjectives you will into the next bit of this, but in my head this hypothetical twin is awkward and ugly and always says the wrong thing at the wrong time, and people don't like this hypothetical twin at all. Now imagine your twin came with you everywhere and just embarrassed you at every turn, and people couldn't tell the two of you apart. That's a bit what it's like not to like yourself all that much.

There are parts of me that I love (and they tend to be the bits I identify with the most - smart, offbeat, cute, et cetera) but there are also bits that I don't, and I have to bring them around and feel ashamed of them. To hell with that.

And then there's the fact that commentators (I cannot call them journalists, but they are undoubtedly participants in "the media") are constantly throwing us information about how my generation is too in love with itself. We're too entitled and too self-absorbed and we never had to go all the way to the library to look something up and we should get off their lawns. (I really think that's all there is to this issue. The baby boomers are upset, like every generation before them, that the new generation is doing cool stuff.)

The point is, I'm trying to ignore all of that and reject this ridiculous mindset and acquire self-esteem someplace. And, as I've learned, writing about things seems to help.

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.

i need to write about this with a clear head.

I've been writing about it, of course, in the moleskine I bought last december, quite a bit, and that's been getting me absolutely nowhere. So today I put on my thinking cap.

Everyone is coupling up and I'm tired of it because I'm jealous and insecure. This, I think, is the fact that has been coloring my days lately. I'd rather it not do that, but I'd also rather it not be true, because all of it is depressing and frustrating.

I'd be okay with everybody else's couples if I had some kind of boy whose jacket I could steal to stay warm as well, but I don't and that's the fact of the matter. On one hand I know I'm a bit too picky to go around saying "Oh I just want a boyfriend!" because I instantly deem 95% of the guys who approach me  unworthy (creepy, dumb, has obviously misinterpreted my absentminded swaying on the dance floor for something sexy, although how that might happen is a mystery). I don't want someone whose greatest merit is their willingness to date me. At the same time, though, if there were someone who wanted me me, who at least I could hold as evidence of my potential to be wanted, I would probably feel better about the whole situation.

If I think about it long enough, the wormhole of irrational thoughts opens up and sucks me in. It would be easy to say that it's freshman year and no one is looking for a relationship, but evidence to the contrary is mounting. I at least thought I had this excuse for when my personal attempts at human contact fell through, but that doesn't seem to be the case either (it seems a boy I had a thing with is now with someone else in a way that is more legitimate than the way in which he had that thing with me. Also, college hookups need a new vocabulary).
So that begs the question, what's so wrong with me?

There are a thousand answers to that question (I'm weird, sometimes I stutter, I don't care much for quiet dignity, I can't dance) but none of them suffice. As David and I discussed yesterday over our world-domination plans, we both have pretty big egos. I actually think I'm pretty fantastic (and beautiful and smart and interesting and worth being around, goddamn it).

It's just that it's hard to remember all of that when I'm at the spring weekend concert, and to my left and right there are friends of mine making out with their boyfriends/girlfriends, and in front of me is a boy who is looking for his new ladyfriend, trying to see over my head, and I'm just standing there.

I woke up this morning with these ridiculous thoughts in my head and couldn't go back to sleep, so now I'm getting them out in hopes that they'll stay out, or open a dialogue between myself and the world about these matters, and maybe the world and I can sort some things out.

Love always,
Clara

this my town

I had a dream about Brown last night. All I really remember is going to get food somewhere, accidentally only buying a cup of maple syrup, thinking about just eating it, and then deciding that I needed to go to the Blue Room to get a muffin. But then they were out of muffins. Also, I was locked out of my room, although I specifically remembered picking up my keys and leaving the door unlocked.

I take this all to mean that I've fully assimilated to college life.

Last weekend, a penis appeared on the wall outside my hallway. I suspect the athletes down the hall are responsible, but I suspect them and their athletic cohort responsible for most bad things that happen on the hall. It's possible that an unrelated band of hooligans just saw the stretch of drywall and decided it needed some phallic imagery (they should have gone with an obelisk), but even then I would suspect that the perpetrators were athletes of some sort. Damn athletic hooligans.

Yesterday, in a fit of madness (I've been having those lately), I bought a sharpie and turned the penis into a fish. It still looks like a penis, but it has eyes and I turned the poorly-drawn testicles into a poorly-drawn fish tail. Now it's a dick-fish, which is better than just a penis on the wall.

Again, taking ownership of my surroundings and feeling assimilated. That's what's happening right now.
Speaking of surroundings, I managed to omit a real conversation from the Monopoly game the other night that I feel is worth sharing, because I laughed.

Mark: Who owns Virginia?
John: I own it. It's in my pants!
Me: Incidentally, I grew up in Virginia.
John: Well... then you grew up in my pants! ... I'm sorry. That was inappropriate.

So that happened.

Love always,
Clara

burnhenn

Someone in my Brain Damage class is coughing, and it's making me feel brain damaged myself. I am beginning to think that OCD is in fact contagious.

Last night we went to Jo's. Lucas encountered a number of difficulties with his Spicy Without, difficulties that slowly increased in intensity, reaching a climax when some grease burned his lip.

He was terribly concerned about this. I regret to say that the rest of us were not terribly concerned, and we could have been more helpful than we were.

I volunteered some fun facts about mouth health though.

Me: Lucas, the mouth is one of the fastest healing parts of the body!

This probably did not help. It ended up with a conversation about how one's first instinct when they get a paper cut is generally to put one's finger in one's mouth, among other things.

Lucas eventually left, at which point we realized we hadn't taken his lip burn quite seriously enough, and it would be such a shame if he in fact did have a second degree burn, as he says he did.

Lucas, if you read this, I apologize very deeply.

David: Are you going to blog about this?

Me: Probably.

David: You should call him Lucas Burnhenn.

Me: I try to avoid last names. Some people get upset.

David: Burnhenn.

I want everyone to know that that is a pun. It's funny because it has the word "burn" in it.

Love always,

Clara

turning up the legitimacy

Right now, when you type "lovealwaysclara.com" into your url-box-thing, nothing happens.

In twenty four hours (or however long GoDaddy takes), that will no longer be the case.

This is big news!

I've had an interesting weekend and it has led me to several conclusions, one of which being that there's a certain degree of frivolity in my life that I'm not pleased with.

I do like frivolity. In some situations it's phenomenal. I decided to give myself a pink streak in my hair today. That was somewhat frivolous. There is indubitably a time and place for frivolity.

That said, I haven't been taking myself with the legitimacy that I'm realizing I do in fact possess.

I'm a real person!

That shouldn't be big news.

Allow me to explain myself and hopefully sound less like a crazy person (I am aware in advance that this may backfire). Everyone has an internal monologue, but most of the time I forget about that and assume that I'm the only one, because I can only hear my own. So sometimes I think, "I'm the only real person because I'm the only one with thoughts that I can hear," and other times I think, "Everyone else is real and I'm crazy because wow look at this internal monologue."

Both of these things are somewhat insane. And they lead me to believe that I'm somehow fundamentally different from other people most of the time, because I'm me and everyone else is other people and it's almost like I'm within a TV show -- everyone else just says their lines and goes about their business and I generally do not know how to handle this feeling that I'm the narrator of the Clara's-Life Show.

This is a narcissistic thought and one that I'm trying to dispel. Because the fact of it is that I'm real and you reading this are real and your father is real and the guy working at Starbucks is real and all of these people have thoughts in their heads and get insomnia once in a while and have a favorite flavor of gum. The reality of this strikes me every once in a while when I'm reading a good book or paying too much attention to other people's conversations in public. It's like that Kate Nash song (I use mouthwash, sometimes I floss, I've got a family and I drink cups of tea).

Think of it this way: I've found that when I first meet someone, I form a pretty simple idea of them in my head (that guy who wears plaid, my neighbor with the guitar, the girl at the gym all the time) and for most intents and purposes that works fine, but when I get to know those people it suddenly becomes apparent that they have all of these other levels. It shouldn't surprise me, and it generally doesn't, but I think (hope) everyone can identify with that feeling that you've just discovered that someone is a real person.

Where I've arrived from all of this is a feeling that I need to quit taking myself unseriously. I deserve certain treatment and I deserve not to sell myself short and if I want something I'm the only person who can make that happen. So I bought myself a domain name.

Love always,

Clara

fun things about prosopagnosia

I have a brain damage exam (for the class, not my brain. Although my brain is involved) on friday. Therefore, this post qualifies as studying.

I have mild prosopagnosia. I don't think it was acquired, I think I'm just like this. Actually, I think it's genetic, but in my mom the same deficiency (in the same area of the brain) gives her a terrible sense of direction.

Anyway, usually this facial-recognition deficit means I don't think I know people that I should know. Ask me how many times I introduced myself to Kyle, or Josh from the fourth floor, or Josh who is Benny's roommate, or countless other people whose names I still don't know. By introduction three, they generally give me a look like, "Are you joking right now?" and I realize that I probably should know who this person is.

(This is why I tend to introduce myself by saying "I'm not sure we've met." It introduces an opportunity for my interlocutor to say, "We have.")

It also means I'm bad at telling similar-looking people apart. For at least two years, I was convinced that Andrew R. and Alexander K. were the same person (If you went to my school and know who these people are, it will make sense to you. If you don't, know that they're both average height and have dark hair). Worse, I couldn't distinguish Paul and Brendan (the only two black kids in my third grade class) for at least a semester, and everyone called me a racist, and it wasn't true, I swear. If my third grade self had known that prosopagnosia was a real thing, I would have said something about it (smugly, I presume. That was my third grade self in a nutshell.) but I just thought that, oh no, maybe I was secretly racist.

Cameron and Russell gave me a way out of this. Cameron and Russell were two kids on my bus in the class a few grades below me. Both had older sisters. Both were of average height. Both had hair that was on the darker side of blonde. I could not distinguish them to save my life when I was younger. Eventually, I think Cameron said, "Look, I have a red backpack and Russell has a blue one. Figure it out."

And so I developed compensatory operations. I could tell Alexander from Andrew by their voices (going to a school where everyone wore uniforms didn't help). Paul was just a little shorter than Brendan. And so it goes. I tend to recognize people based on what they wear and how they carry themselves (apparently the neural pathway that processes expressions and emotions was fine, because I actually rely on particular people's expressions to distinguish them) and the sounds of their voices, and context.

Where I'm going with this is that sometimes my compensatory operations lead me to believe that I do know someone that I really don't.

Exempli gratia: I had this great idea the other day in the Ratty to get a piece of bread and drizzle french onion soup over it. While I was standing there dealing with my soup, a girl of below average height, with dark hair, wearing black, approached to get some soup of her own. She fit the profile of a girl named Tiffany, who is from england, and whom I've met enough times that we could certainly make small talk over soup.

Me: I'm not sure this plan is going to work.

Girl: [In what is very much not a British accent] That's a good idea though! That's the best part about french onion soup!

Me: I hope so!

Girl: Maybe I'll try it!

Now I'm thinking, I've never met that girl before, but I have made a new friend and she now has a new idea in her head about soup.

Hooray for brain dysfunction!

Love always,

Clara

P.S. Usually that conversation goes something like this.

Me: Hey.

Person: [Questioning look]

Me: Oh, you're not who I thought you were.

Person: [Very questioning look]

Me: Sorry...

i feel busy

And yet somehow still not busy enough.

I've taken to planning out my days by the hour. It makes me very nervous when I have nothing planned.

This is one of those times when I suppose that I might be losing my mind.

I guess I've always been a control freak. One of the most oft repeated bits of family folklore involves me having some kind of crying fit as a baby, and quieting down when Mom lifted me to the light switch, so that I might control the lights.

That's just me.

Anyway, this feeling that there is an hour of the day that is unaccounted for is very unsettling. Anything could happen during that time, and it would be my fault, because I hadn't planned for something in particular to happen during that time!

The flaw in this thinking is that more than half the time something unexpected happens, it's a good unexpected thing.

This all leads me to one crucial question: What should I do between 7 and 8 tomorrow night?

Answer: I'm going to pencil in "play sushi cat."

(If you don't know what Sushi Cat is, you need to google it right now.)

Love always,

Clara

irritable

Today I did not leave my room early enough to feel that I had time for a slow, relaxed breakfast, which really is something I prioritize.

It is sort of raining right now. That would be okay except that a couple days ago, I lost my hat. I do have another hat, but it would clash with what I'm wearing right now, so logic dictated that I go out without a hat, obviously.

Now my hair is wet. There were more people in the Ratty than usual; I suspect an intruding sports team. Everyone was shouting. It all put me in one of those moods when I want to murder everyone. Someone please tell me I'm not the only one who gets these moods? I'm not a big fan.

Then the only place to sit was right in front of the door. I could have sat on the other side of the room, but I didn't trust myself to walk that far with my cereal, because I always spill it all over the damn place anyway, and why make it worse?

So I was cold, because the wind came in every time someone opened the door. And then I came to class, in the rain, and almost slipped on the ice, and almost died, and then Stefan asked me how I was.

And I was set on this downward spiral that is the first hour of my day. Because I've been awake for an hour.

To hell with this. I'm buying another hat today.

Love always,

Clara

sleep

I just had a dream that I was at a party, and everyone was being covered in neon spray paint, and then a group of belligerent bagpipists came in saying they had the room reserved, and they forcibly read us their business statement, and one tried to take my phone.

Why was I dreaming at five PM, you might ask?

Because my sleep cycles are fucked up beyond repair.

I was up until five in the morning last night. I almost shot myself. I should have fallen asleep quickly. I'd had a fairly active day, and I was at the very least tipsy by the time I got in from town. It should have been easy.

But no.

Insomnia is the worst. It turns you into a crazy person. And then it forces you to skip skiing, and sleep all day, and miss out on everything, and lose your mind because now, having woken up from an ill-advised nap, I know the exact same thing is going to happen tonight.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Love always,

Clara

welcome, boys and girls, to college

A few months before I left for college, my dad presented me with a speech about "boy-girl interactions."

Much like the boy-girl parties of intermediate school, "boy-girl interactions" can be stressful and great and sometimes you think it might be best to hide in the bathroom with the girls who are hiding from their dates, and listen. After five minutes of that I tend to realize that I don't really like girls that much. Specific girls, sure, but girls on the whole, no thank you.

Anyway. Boy-girl interactions. The way I had understood them to this point (who am I kidding. I never understand this shit) had been something like this: people can hook up (which means kissing, Mom, and I know you're reading this on the edge of your seat. Make yourself a libertini or something and chill. I'm not getting pregnant and I'm not dropping acid either) and it can be nothing and everyone can move on with their lives. Or people can hook up and there can be emotional implications due to the behavior of one or more parties, and in that case the hook up can turn into a "thing," and a "thing" can turn into a relationship maybe.

It seems that I have been mistaken. Apparently, as numerous people have told me lately, "we're in college" and that means something.

I'm not sure what it means exactly. Does it mean that when people hook up and there are emotional implications, the best subsequent choice is to do nothing?

As it turns out, maybe that's the way people do things "in college." Everyone's in the let's-hook-up-with-as-many-people-as-possible-in-one-semester phase. The thing about that is that I had that phase in like, junior year. That phase is done. That phase came and went and wasn't all that interesting anyway.

I mean, why not just hook up with one person consistently, and also ask about their day? Is it the variety that everyone's after? Is there an inherent value in variety that I'm failing to grasp?

I don't know. We're in college. Whatever that means.

Love always,

Clara

the teen angst adventure gang

I was having a supremely angsty day yesterday.

I'm not even sure why. I'd say I think I'm getting sick, but I was literally just sick last week, and I thought I'd recovered, and who knows at this point.

Anyway, I literally went to class, sat in the Ratty for an hour and a half doing a crossword puzzle, and went back to my room. Watched a couple episodes of Skins (Series three. Like whoa), went up to the Mead lounge to study for economics (which meant working through a free response question that ended up on the exam), went back to my room, watched another episode of Skins, and went to dinner.

My plan had been to finish dinner and head to my screening for MCM, but I was halfway to Smitty B before I realized I'd left my keys in the Ratty. So I rushed back, and my keys weren't on the table, and I made an awkward circle of the room looking for my keys and finding, instead, several tables full of people I'd rather not see me in this kind of condition. And then I went to the front table and my keys had been turned in as lost.

At that point I was already late, and I decided, fuck it. I went back to Keeney, but was in more of a sit-in-the-rain-and-talk-on-the-phone mood than a sit-in-my-room-and-watch-the-damn-film-on-my-laptop mood. So I did that for a while.

I don't know what's up with me. I'm just in a generally angsty mood and I'm not sure what brought this on.

Love always,

Clara

holy sheep

So this just blew my mind.

Although, to be fair, a lot of things have been blowing my mind lately. I'm in this weirdly mentally unstable state lately, which I'm blaming on my headcold.

It's cold outside? AAAAHHH! NOOO!

There are vegan nuggets in the Ratty? OH MY GOD YESSSSS BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

Something is funny? OH MY GOD I JUST DIED.

There is a person in my path? EEEAAHHHH?

I just can't seem to use my words.

Anyway, my reaction to this video was "AAAAH? WHAAAAT? THAT IS THE COOLEST THING IN THE WORLD!!!! EVER!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!"

Behold.

Love always,

Clara

10:30 class? woke up at 10:25. super.

There's this kid who lives on my hall. He's tall and I see him in the hallway all the time (usually when I'm in my towel... awk...) and I don't know his name.

I saw him outside the dorm today as I was leaving.

Me: Hey, is it raining?

Kid: Um, kind of.

Me: I'm not going to bring an umbrella. Is that a mistake?

Kid: Maybe.

Me: Well I'm not going to go get one. WHO NEEDS YOU?

This is what happens when I wake up five minutes before class starts, because I got home at 1 the night before, because post was being tricky and I was moving slowly, because I have a cold and can't think straight.

Some people were handing out flyers on my way to class.

Guy: Would you be interested in joining the race against diabetes?

Me: [taking flyer] Oh... yeah... diabetes is cool.... I mean... no it's not.

Guy: No...

Like wow.

Love always,

Clara

legitness

I've written for the Blog Daily Herald!

Check it out!

Shameless self-promotion all over the place!

In other news, I'm so busy it's literally insane. My sanity is notably absent.

In other other news, I've got at least three nights of halloween on the agenda, and all require different costumes. Love college.

In other other other news, I've invented a linguistic rule. You can add as many "others" as necessary to "in other news."

I just liberated you from the shackles of an unnecessary standard in our language.

The number of potential sentences in the english language just increased exponentially (not that it wasn't infinite already).

Hot damn. I feel powerful.

In other other other other news, clearly I'm losing it.

Love always,

Clara

songs to distract me from scarring korean films

So today for Modern Culture and Media, we watched a highly relevant and critically acclaimed Korean film called "Oldboy". Basically, people lose limbs and tongues and teeth and incest is everywhere, and I don't recommend it.

So instead of talking about that any further, I decided it would be worthwhile to wander around youtube and post songs I like, and some intermittent real conversations.

John: They were so cute. I basically stalked them.

Genevieve: I stalked a couple in high school too. It was an interracial couple.

John: Were you friends with them?

Genevieve: No.

Alex: Does it rain when it snows?

Genevieve: It doesn't rain. It snows.

Alex: OH! The rain IS the snow!

In the process of writing this blog post, my headphones broke. This is not okay!

I am so angry. I've only had these headphones for like, a year, and they were fairly expensive, and I loved them so much because they were blue and I felt so cool when I wore them, and now they only play sound in one ear, which gives me basically the biggest headache in the world. Thanks a lot, Urban Outfitters. Now I'm using crappy earbuds which fall apart all the time.

Before I was in college, I'd complain for a bit and I'd buy some new ones but now I have to think about my purchases. So I'm tempted to just stay with my crappy earbuds or buy other crappy headphones, but those will just break just as quickly. And I'll be angry again, and they won't even be as good to begin with. And there's no solution, because I wouldn't be able to afford legitimately nice ones. And mine looked cool, and let's be real for a moment- the hardcore audiophile quality headphones all look ridiculous, and not in the way that I tend to strive for. Fuck this. I need happy music even more now.

No luck. The bad mood persists.

Love always,

Clara

tswift, freud, and new songs

I've been meaning to download some more Mates of State (and what little Oh Land I can find. Apparently her new EP comes out next month, so I'm way ahead of the curve. What else is new?)

Anyway, just buying a few new songs is not how I work. So here's the lastest batch.

Apologies - Grace Potter & The Nocturnals

Rambling Man - Laura Marling

The Box - Johnny Flynn

Brown Trout Blues - Johnny Flynn

Inni mer syngur vitleysingur - Sigur Ros

Infinity - The xx

Sun of a Gun - Oh Land

True Love Will Find You In the End - Mates of State

My Only Offer - Mates of State

In the process, I stumbled upon this music video. I'll be real here: it gave me chills [OMG! TAYLOR SWIFT! LOVE! BOYS! OMG!]. At the same time though, it's incredibly cheesy and sort of weirded me out.

And then I figured out why.

It's so freudian. Like, he would have a field day with Taylor. She lacks the love of her father, so she seeks a surrogate in a guy her age, and then has some sons.

Maybe I'm taking my MCM class too seriously. I've been seeing sexual imagery everywhere these days. Do y'all realize how phallic the SciLi is? Do you have any idea?

Maybe I'm just a freak. That's always an option.

Love always,

Clara