a new thing. a break.

I didn't blog in nantucket. It was not for lack of things to say. It may have been for lack of time, except that I'm on page 265 of TSMs. Clearly there was some time for internet loitering.

I don't know what's wrong with me. So I'm taking a break. For a month. On September 13th, I'll be back, I promise.

I won't be ignoring the blog for that month. My hope is that I'll be overflowing with things to say by the time I allow myself to sit down to say them. I'll still be keeping track of real conversations and real conversations, my family will still be weird and I'll probably still be mentally unstable on occasion.
This isn't the end.

I just need a second to, in my mother's words,* live my life instead of writing about it.

Love always,
Clara

*Mom, did you not realize that the point of that other post was that you should stop commenting on my blog posts? I tried the subtlety thing! 

havoc

My great grandmother was cool.

Today I cut up a tee shirt because I'm basically that kind of person now. Also, I crave sartorial creativity, but cannot sew. Cutting up tee shirts is really all that I'm capable of.
Anyway, I needed scissors to do so.

Me: (calling down the stairs) Mom? Do you know where the scissors are? Mom?
Mom: Clara! Do you want a cocktail?
Me: Mom, I'm doing things with scissors!
Mom: Even better!

I think she wants me to die in a tragic drunk-shirt-cutting accident.

Seriously though, I am just about the clumsiest person in the world, and it's been getting worse lately. Anyone who's had more than a few meals with me knows that my utensils will somehow just end up flying across the room for no reason. I have literally no idea why or how this happens.

I just wreak havoc.
(Speaking of havoc, everyone should read Pygmy by Chuck Palahniuk, because it's great)

Love always,
Clara

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

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

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

my mother explains

Mom sent me an email this morning, defending herself. She says that I was probably six when this book got into my hands, and I had been mostly bored with whatever reading material that had been available to me at the time.

Mom

... You were just fascinated. I could not bear to pull you away. I knew all that pablum you were supposed to be reading was just too boring. I remember asking your father if maybe it was a little too grim, but he felt it was just fine. Of course. Why I asked him I will never know.
Thank god Harry Potter came along and got you off the Hindenburg. But don't chastise us, you would have done the same. You were bored. I consider that torture.

That sounds entirely plausible.

Love always,

Clara

we interrupt this broadcast

Can one of my parents explain to me why sitting on the floor reading We Interrupt this Broadcast is one of my most fond memories of elementary school?

For those who aren't familiar, that's a book and CD set describing the national tragedies of the last eighty years. Or, I guess not all of them are tragedies. Truman defeating Dewey was in there too, which wasn't tragic so much as surprising. It starts with the Hindenburg though, and I'm pretty sure one of the closing stories is about Columbine.

I seem to remember this book being a gift to someone. It might have been a gift to me, but I couldn't have been older than eight (I remember sitting in the living room in our old house, and I moved for the first time in third grade). Who gives an eight year old a book about radio sensationalism and bombs?

I'm trying to figure this out. Sometimes I wonder in general what my parents were doing with their lives while I was thinking about the Hindenburg all the damn time. Not that I'm bitter. I did say that this was one of my fonder memories.

It may have been one of those attempts to provide Clara with educational material that's over her head. I also had an anatomy coloring book that may or may not have been intended for med students.

Well. In any case, I guess the point of this post is that I had a weird childhood. No regrets though.

Love always,

Clara

busy busy

Back on campus and life is sweet.

I woke up at eight this morning, hung out for a bit, got dressed, and went to Starbucks where I bought the Sunday Times and drank my doubletallsugarfreevanillasoylatte.

Then, John and I went to the mall where I bought a new iPod (the old one, which I'd had since sophomore year, had reached the end of its life) from a guy named Stephen.

Me: I'd like to buy an iPod.

Stephen: Cool!

Me: Yeah. Just an iPod classic.

Stephen: Cool! I can help you with that!

Me: Great, thanks.

Stephen: Yeah! Cool!

He was a generally enthusiastic character. He told us to come back sometime. As if we're going to go to the Apple store and say "Oh, hi, we don't need anything, we're just looking for our friend Stephen."

The mall was fun. There seems to be some kind of cheerleading competition going on in Providence, and we saw a lot of people in midriff bearing uniforms and eye glitter.

On the way out, we saw some local kids outside.

John: Look at the natives!

This reminded me of something.

Me: So I was in Switzerland, and my Mom did something weird, I don't know...

John: That's basically the story of your life.

Me: ... yes.

He's 100% right about that. But the story continued.

Me: I remember, she ordered sparkling water instead of regular, which I don't even understand.

John: I hate sparkling water.

Me: Me too. So I was like, "Mom, what are you doing?" and she was like "Clara, I've gone native."

That's a real story.

I really don't like sparkling water.

Anyway, then later we went to Whole Foods with Liz and Jenny and Felice. I have so many fruits and veggies right now. It is making my day.

I am so glad to be back.

Love always,

Clara

alpha-women and my topless photo

There was an article in the Financial Times today about how Alpha-women tend to marry Alpha-males, and then the Alpha-men get their careers put first, and that's why there aren't enough female CEOs. The moral of the story was that if you want to be a CEO, marry a man who doesn't care about his job. The implication was that such men are weaker or something.

I think this is crap. I don't want to end up marrying someone less ambitious than I am. Although I don't want to be a CEO either. I'm thinking right now of being a psychologist, or memoirist, or hobo in a box.

Or maybe a combo.

Mom said that she felt like that too, and that she sees herself as the Alpha-woman who had to stay home with the children.

Mom: I'm not bitter about it though, because I got to be with you kids.

Me: And we're pretty cool. Especially me.

Mom: Well where do you think you got it?

Mother and I are also huge narcissists. I think I got that from her too.

We had drinks with a family friend tonight. It is when we are doing these kinds of things that everyone's weird sense of humor comes out. I was telling her about my blogging, and the fact that a google for "ipad boobs" results in a link to this very place.

Me: Well, it's because of this conversation I had with David.

Dad: So it's not because of that topless picture of you holding an iPad?

Me: Oh that might have something to do with it too.

Friend: Don't shock your parents!

Me: Too late.

...

Dad: Since you've been home, I've had this postmodern existential awareness of the things I say and how they might be represented on your blog. It's interesting.

This is why I have a whole tag about my family being weird. It really suits them.

Love always,
Clara

P.S. I bet you were anticipating a topless photo. Or at least some reference to a real topless photo. No luck. Sorry.

i don't even know

Mom: Clara, will you pick out some outfits for Grace to pack?

Me: What?

Mom: I tried to do it, but she said "Mom, can you send Clara to do this?"

Me: Did she actually say that or are you bullshitting me?

Mom: I'm bullshitting you. But she won't listen to me!

For some reason we don't trust Grace to pack for herself. That reason will probably become evident in the next few days, because I'm refusing to help. I have a stomach ache and so I'm in a contrary mood. Also, sulky.

But I just listened to Bright Eyes for a little bit and now I feel much better. Here's hoping that stays.

Tomorrow we depart for Austria. Tomorrow night is the Blumenball, and the night after that is another ball that's bigger and goes until five in the morning.

My life is basically something out of a poorly written novel. Or maybe a sitcom that was brilliant, but didn't get good enough ratings and was cancelled after two seasons.

Love always,

Clara

edited to add: I did go try to help Grace pack. I did. I tried my damndest. That girl is stubborn though. In unrelated news, it's clear that we're related.

bread pudding!

I spent two hours in the kitchen today pouring sugar and cinnamon and milk on bits of bread and calling it culinary.

The end result was delicious so I am beyond thrilled.

Literally had bread pudding cupcake things (cupcake here is a loose term indicating that they were discrete, and roundish) for lunch and dinner. Turns out, they don't provide a ton of lasting energy (hello carbohydrates, how are you doing today?) so then I had some peanuts.

I win nutrition.

Tonight I discovered that my mother owns a bright lime green corset. I want to steal it. It's not a lingerie-type corset; it's a top-part-of-a-gown-type corset. I'm sure there's a word for it.

Anyway, it fits and I kind of want to wear it around like it's a normal thing to wear. Bring it into style. Rock it with jeans and sunglasses.

Maybe I'm just on a prolonged sugar high.

That is a plausible explanation of my mood.

Also the fact that I haven't left the house all day. That always does crazy things to my head. I couldn't be bothered though. There's nothing to do on Sundays in this country anyway. And I had discrete-and-round bread puddings to make. And eat.

This is what things are like these days. Luckily I'll be back at school in two weeks, where at least my insanity is in good company.

Quotes without Context: Holiday edition #4

"Your screw is loose! Do you want me to drive it?!"

Did I imply above that there are not many insane people right here? I retract that implication.

Love always,

Clara

with the parents again

Mom: Want some vino? Your dad and I are going to watch Rome.

Sometimes it occurs to me that I may as well not have left college. Things are actually not all that different over here.

Although watching graphic sex scenes at school is totally okay, and watching graphic sex scenes with my parents is totally not okay.

In related news, we watched The Kids are All Right tonight. It was great, except for all of those graphic sex scenes with my parents in the room.

There is something decidedly gross about that.

I, naturally, thought the happy ending was when the oldest daughter got to go away to college and escape the madness that was her domestic situation. I was literally cheering for it.

I think that every day for the next week, I'm going to post a quote without context from new years, because there are so many great ones.

So, here we go.

Quotes without context: Holiday edition #1

"If you let her film you, she'll tell you about her vagina in winter"

Love always,

Clara

zubringerdienst you

Dad: However, Uncle Stu was never gay, unlike many male models.

Mom: While you were in the bathroom, Clara, I made the mistake of telling you father that [one of Mom's exes] was a model.

I had dinner with my parents tonight and it was hilarious.

We're out of eggs. This is a crisis.

Mom: This was easy driving home.

Dad: On the way here I took the long way because I didn't want to get a ticket driving through Matte.

Me: But you did it just now.

Dad: Well I cut the odds in half. I didn't want to be pulled over and have to explain that I was zubringerdiensting your mother.

Me: That does sound questionable.

"Zubringerdienst" means you can only drive through a particular area if you're going there. As in, not just passing through.

Mom: Zubringerdienst you!

Love always,

Clara

i would not date my cousins, and that's okay

I went skiing today for the first time in way too long. And somehow I did not fall but once, when trying to stand on a flat surface. You know how hard that can be.

The drive to the mountain was interesting at best. My wonderful cousin Ian was talking about how his girlfriend's roommate had bought Christmas presents for her own boyfriend, but then they broke up, so Ian might be getting some Brooks Brothers shirts out of it. He was excited.

Shortly thereafter, my aunt Gail was telling me (for at least the fifth time in the last few days) about her son's friend who plays soccer at Providence College, whom she thinks I should meet, although he is, as she puts it, a "bad boy, very naughty."

Me: I mean honestly, he doesn't sound like my type. I don't tend to go for athletes.

Someone: Is that so? What is your type?

Me: Well, I don't tend to go for guys who get excited about Brooks Brothers either.

Suddenly everyone in the car was very offended and I can't quite place why. It's not like dating my cousin Ian was even on the table to begin with. I mean, please. If my mother had her way I'd be married to one of the stepcousins but they're very seriously not my type, and also they're my stepcousins, so while it's genetically alright... ew.

Anyway, then Gail said "Well maybe snobby girls aren't his type."

Excuse me?

Having preferences is snobby now?

I'm sorry that, given the option, I probably wouldn't jump at an opportunity to date guys like her sons. Her sons are great. I love all of my cousins dearly. But they're just not my type, and they wouldn't be, even if we weren't blood relatives (this is such a weird train of thought).

I'm not sure that this is a snobby thing. I'm almost thinking, actually, that it's terribly antifeminist to say so. Am I supposed to be just lying here waiting for someone to fancy me? I'd like to have a choice in these matters.

Although, maybe I was misunderstood. Maybe everyone thought I meant Brooks Brothers was passe, and I would only consider dating someone who wore exclusively Vineyard Vines.

(Is that even a better thing? Can they be compared? Let this be evidence as to how little I know about preppy menswear lines, and how proportionally little time I spend thinking about these things, with the exception of right now.)

It was all very strange.

Love always,

Clara

strange correspondence

I've been emailing with my parents. It's more efficient than calling.

They're both very strange people, and had very different reactions to the news that I had been ill.

Mom

I am glad you made the call on your throat- just make sure you get seen! Throat Coat is my fav. I used to drink it before the show (right after a big mug of Thinko Tea!) It gives you a sexy voice.

Dad

I am glad to hear you are healing. You are probably surrounded by more germs than at any time since St. Paul's [preschool]. The great Plague of 1918 (which killed your great-grandfather's wife and son, thank God, lest we not exist) was mostly spread by housing WWI soldiers in massive barracks, each sleeping 12 inches from the next guy. Whoosh, they carried it across the world.

No further comment. This says it all.

Love always,

Clara

simone meets freud meets my mother

Kyle and I tried to explain Freud to Simone last night.

That went well.

Simone: That fucking guy is so fucked, man!

Somehow, being told that he secretly wanted to get nasty with his own mother didn't go over so well. I can't imagine why.

I was actually out with my cousin and his harem of Georgia boys last night, but they decided to go in early and watch Zoolander. I wasn't going to question that decision; Zoolander is unquestionably one of the greatest movies of the last twenty years. I wasn't in the mood for an early night though, so I stayed out a bit longer.

This resulted in extreme judgment from my mother. What else is new?

I really don't know what her issue is lately. I'm sure she or some other family member will read this and have their own comments, and I welcome that below (see: Comments). She's spent the past few months being as judgmental as humanly possible, perhaps in a misguided attempt to preserve my 16 year old self before I go to college. I'm not sixteen though, and I don't think she would actually ask me to regress if I asked her explicitly.

Dad has said that she's just worried because I'm going to college and she won't be around to monitor my activities anymore. I'm of the opinion, naturally, that she's in no position to monitor my activities anyway, seeing as I'm legally an adult, and I have pretty good judgment anyway.

I've made far more good decisions than bad ones. They should all trust me by now.

But, for whatever reason, she doesn't.

This is bothering me.

Back to Freud.

In the Oedipus Complex, the child in question feels that to become powerful, he must overthrow the current dictator, his father. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say that this is what's going on right now. My mother thinks she should be the one calling the shots for me, and I'm going to reject that.

(I would call that an Electra Complex, but I really don't want to get penis envy involved in any of this)

Anyway, that's been my life lately.

Love always,

Clara

summer songs

I've been downloading music left and right.

By left, I mean iTunes, and by right, I mean various music blogs discovered on hype machine.

Feel it in my Bones (feat. Tegan and Sara) - Tiesto

Playground Love (Air cover) - Phoenix

Opposite of Adults - Chiddy Bang

Everlasting Light - The Black Keys

The Difference Between Us - The Dead Weather

Rill Rill - Sleigh Bells

My Radio (AM Mix) - Stars

Sunlight - The Harlem Shakes

Generator (First Floor) - Freelance Whales

Rebellion (Lies) - Arcade Fire

Death to Death - Stars

The Kids - B.o.B

I"m Not Your Toy - La Roux

Also, the Eclipse soundtrack leaked. The news about this made me curious so I checked it out. I'm realizing with a little bit of joy and a little bit of horror that it's got all of these artists that I love on it. Metric? Florence and the Machine? Vampire Weekend? What?

I'm not pretending I own Florence. But think with me, for a second, about the implications of this. My sister loves Twilight and all things related. She's going to listen to this album on repeat for at the very least a week. And suddenly she'll be introduced to the amazing musical sensations of hearing Metric for the first time (the doctor, the writer, the garbage collector, fingerprinted waiting for the train, lord lord mother, we're all losing love, lord listen lover, we're all missing mama) and what if she likes it?

One part of me says, of course she'll like it. It's great.

Another part of me says, if she likes it, she will have stolen my taste in music by means of trend-following, which I cannot respect.

And a third part of me says that she might just pretend to like it because it's got Robert Pattinson on its album art, and maybe she'll keep on listening to Green Day or whomever it is she likes these days, while proclaiming that The Black Keys are brilliant.

Which, by the way, I've decided they are.

Ugh. This awakens a whole new set of dilemmas.

On a lighter note, check this out:

Love always,

Clara

cougars

Me: Mom! I have standards!

Mom: Have you seen this show, Cougars? ... There's this mother on it, and she's always saying these horrible things to her son, and it reminds me of us.

Mom really didn't want me to blog that. Hah. We just skyped for a while. It was chill.

I just told David the story of why Grace should never have gotten into kindergarden. To get into kindergarden at our school, you have to know your phone number. I knew my phone number, so I got into first grade.

My mom knew that this was part of the standard rigorous-admission-procedures, and clearly she wasn't completely secure in my sister's abilities to really impress on this test. So she taught my sister a song of our phone number.

And in that critical moment, she hummed it.

And that, my dear readers, is why Grace got a good education. Lies and deception.

Quote without context-

David: Tiny David should have been a tiny-baby-model.

I'm telling David that I'm going to marry this kid I'm living with, since he's about the most adorable thing on the planet. Such a gentleman. He's in fourth grade.

David: I've dated my share of small children. But that was when I was a small child, so it was chill. Not like your situation.

So um, that's been today. I also finished my second book? Hooray for that.

Love always,

Clara

"darling I know what you are thinking- NO BLOGGING THIS"

This is essentially going to be a blogpost of things I'm technically not supposed to blog. First is a great quote from an email from my mother. They hadn't realized that if you invite a million people to stay at your house, you end up with a million people at your house.

Mom: We spend our days and nights whispering plots in the hallways and bathrooms figuring out how to get rid of the guests...

Last night we had the "Health, Safety, and Beyond" seminar. It was riveting.

The first hour was basically two alums telling us that college is awesome.

Alum: Drinking can be really really really really really... fun.

Then they took questions.

Taylor: So what are the weeknights like? Like, if you don't have work, you're not going to go to a strip club on a tuesday night...

Alum: Don't make assumptions.

We did talk about some pretty serious issues, though.

Person: What do you do if you don't like your roommate?

Alum: Kill 'em.

Then Ms. H and Mr. Y came out and told us that we should all get credit cards but shouldn't use them, and that we shouldn't drink in college, or that we shouldn't make "bad decisions."

That was all pretty enlightening as well.

They told us to keep what happened there confidential, but I'm not sure why. I don't understand why people want to keep things they say private, unless they're saying bad things about someone else.

Which I guess they shouldn't be doing anyway.

Love always,

Clara

i'm not friends with any hookers, i don't think

Sourabh: You don't even know my mom! How tall is she?

Mehdi: I can't remember every single mom I've been with... Like, Megan... Lydia...

Me: Hey, my mom's foxy. I don't mind.

Jelena asked me for Tessa's number, but I didn't have it so I made one up, which was fine by her. She proceeded to call this number, saying it was Tessa, to embarrass him.

The random swiss guy who called back wasn't thrilled.

Sourabh: Hey, do you guys like hookers?

Me: What?

Sourabh: Yeah, like, female hookers. Mehdi and Clemens told me, girls like hookers. Not to do anything with, just in general.

Halima: So... are we friends with hookers?

When I was younger, I didn't know what a gigolo was.

Remember that song, Gigolo?

I remember singing that song in the car, having no idea what I was saying, and my mom being horrified and explaining the meaning to me. Good times on long car rides.

Sourabh: Once, two hookers came to me and Clemens in Bern. We ran away.

I just had the greatest conversation with my mother.

Me: Hey you know what's fun? Doing calculus after a gin and tonic.

Mom: I was about to ask you how that was going.

...

Me: Oh, they all listen to [redacted musician]. [Redacted] listens to [redacted] because [Redacted] listens to [redacted] because [Redacted] listens to [redacted].

Mom: They're all just following the drug felon.

Me: Well, yeah. That's what I do when I'm in doubt.

...

Mom: Okay. Well I'm going to go try to remember what made me swear off gin.

Love always,

Clara