that this is the first year i’m going to have a valentine.
I used to really like cheetahs. So here is a picture for my day. A penny for your thoughts. A cherry for your sundae. A kiss for your goodbye. A top result of your google search for “picture”. You’re so welcome.
Today was a long day.
I don’t know if it could be classified as a positive or negative variable of the calculus equation that is my life, but it boy how it dragged.
My mood was also in a very questionable state because of the whole printing debacle that began when I realized I lost my wallet and was therefore cut off from the expansive privileges provided by my school idea (i.e., scanning in to the library, etc. for free periods, scanning out into the great blue yonder for lunch release). Anyway this prevented me from printing my critical key terms notes that I needed for reference to achieve my critical perfect first grade in AP Gov. This is not a very interesting story, but boring as it was it masterfully destroyed my sanity for the day.
Today was a cold day.
I thought that highly opaque black tights and a felt/wool-blend/polyester mini skirt dripping below a heathered Jersey Boys t-shirt would be a sufficient uniform with which to face the winter tidings. I was sadly mistaken. Instead I shivered and goose-pimpled my way through every class, every hall way, every auditorium that I entered today. Turns out my “Grey-dient” theme, though tonally appropriate for the season, lacked coverage.
Today was a happy day.
I have no homework for tomorrow because I play cello moderately well. Yes, that’s right. My B+ musical gifts have allowed me to be selected for the chamber orchestra that is being taken down to the all-state music festival to play with the choir’s specially commissioned piece this year.* Most importantly, this means I get a friday off of school and placed inside a coach bus, which I am actually rather fond of, especially for sleeping purposes.
I also discovered that my body is in an excellent state of health and that I have nothing to be worried about currently, with the possible exception of the range of motion in my shoulders, which is rotten, and the appaulling rapidity with which my gums are receding though I have not yet seen the change of eighteen years. What will I look like at 85?!
Today is over.
I have nothing more to do except discuss the world with my parents and eat freshly-baked-from-a-pre-made-package-of-dough chocolate chip cookies. And probably shower. And finish typing and thinking of tags for this excruciatingly long tumblr post that virtually 8.479x10^-90000000% of the earth’s population will read.
*If you have a future list of you-tube perusals, as all culturally excelling persons should, I would take this moment to pull it up and type “Working Girls” VHHS Girls Choir or some similar key phrase into your queue because it will culture you in the way I know you’ve been looking for. However, if you are looking for more of a street-corner working girl, I suggest “What a Night”, one of those great tunes recently repopularized by Jersey Boys
It’s been a long time since I’ve been on tumblr. For whatever reason, I decided to revisit it the other day. Possibly that was the wrong decision to make in the midst of second semester beginning and rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet culminating into our most hectic weeks, but what can I say. I flirt with danger.
Anyway rereading my posts is like becoming reacquainted with myself. More than that, remembering who I was two years ago and seeing how much and how little I have changed since then. It’s sort of remarkable and sort of calming to be able to touch some small part of myself from that time. That sophomoric stage of my journey to becoming a human being instead of a teenager.
There is a lot more for me to say. But to whatever followers that I have that see this or don’t see this. To me in two more years. To any creepy stalkers that I sincerely hope I don’t develop later in life I will mark my return to tumblr with these words. These words that are so incongruent with the Claire of 2010 who began this strange document of life.
I’m in love.
My skin always crawls a little when men announce that they have respect for women. Actually when anyone states they have respect for anything for that matter. You don’t have to announce it. Respect is not something that is constantly said. Respect is by nature an action. There is no way to physically express respect. It is either there or it isn’t. Using the word doesn’t make it true. There are very few huge generalizing statements I could make regarding respect, because it’s such a delicate but yet formidable concept.
Respect is most significant when quiet and determined.
The most respected people are the most quietly determined.
Things to ponder.
I need to stop posting recklessly
As much as that picture was my grandpa, this picture is me.
I think I’m going to start documenting my outfits daily. Because
a) I like clothes
b) I like myself
c) I like being organized
d) I probably will stop doing this in 3 days, but it makes me feel like I have a goal to work towards
e) I kind of missed the whole NY Rez thing….
f) I feel like getting up every day is worth it
g) I can share myself with the world, who needs me dearly
h) I can pretend I’m important
i) Maybe it will help me figure out what the fosnot I want to do with my life.
j) I have a camera
k) I have always toyed with this idea
k) It doesn’t matter what happens from this point on because as Plato says “The beginning is the most important part of the work”
And so it goes