Funny things that happened last night

So I was having a conversation with my friend (hopefully soon-to-be-boyfriend... haha, yeah right, but more on that some other time) about how I had never done any typically rebellious teenager stuff - I don't drink, do drugs, get random piercings or do crazy things to my hair, break laws (other than speeding/running stop signs...) - in general, I don't feel the need to do things that my parents would disapprove of.  Honestly, most of my childhood "bad behavior" consisted of sneaking candy behind their backs and reading under the covers with a flashlight, with some late-night phone marathons thrown in for good measure.  They're strict enough that these things have occasionally gotten me in a fair bit of trouble, but I recognize that my 'fair bit of trouble' is typically along the lines of being lectured or having my computer taken away; I was sensitive enough that the former used to result in me in tears, and determined enough to continue my 'rebelliousness' that the latter would result in me sneaking my computer (or phone, or whatever) back at night until I could get it back.

ANYWAYS, we were joking about how much of a lame teenager this makes me, and as I'm pushing 19, I decided I had to do SOMETHING before it's too late, to make up for my relatively pristine childhood.  Said friend was having an all-night study marathon last night, and jokingly suggested that I should sneak out and come hang with him for a bit in the middle of the night.  Citing our recent conversation, I said I would, thus sealing my totally (not) bad-ass status.  So I set my alarm for 3am (my parents were up unusually late) and planned to head over for an hour or so.  Unfortunately, he's in Arlington, so it's a longer drive than I'd like, limiting our hang-out time, which is why I figured that even though this wasn't a particularly bad-ass idea (it's not like we were going to do anything illegal), it would be fun anyways, and would furthermore take advantage of my above-cited limited hang-out (read: flirting) time with him.

The only thing that really worried me is our dog - she barks at ANY noise, especially anything that indicates that people may be coming into the house, until she knows it's us.  Great if you want your house guarded from burglars and such - or if you want to keep your kids from sneaking out.  I figured that by leaving and entering via the back door in the basement, I had a pretty decent chance, since she sleeps upstairs.  This went almost perfectly.  I left and came back without receiving any panicked/pissed phone calls, so I'm guessing she didn't hear me start the car.  I was feeling so proud of myself that I pranced up the stairs, not thinking to call out to the dog or turn on the TV or something to alert her that the sudden noise of feet on the stairs wasn't an intruder of some sort.

Needless to say, she barked, not very much or loudly, but enough to wake my parents, who often leave their bedroom door open at night.  I managed to put the car keys away and was setting down my shoes when my mom came out to investigate (by now it was after 5am, and not only is my mom a light sleeper, but she would've been getting up soon anyways).  I mumbled something about not being able to sleep and going for a walk, and fled to my bedroom.  Please note:  I'm a TERRIBLE liar.  I had actually planned on telling her what was going on if she caught me; she typically opposes far more to me trying to lie to her (she says I'm 'breaking her trust') than to anything I've ever done.  As a relatively 'good' kid who loves her parents, I can totally understand where she's coming from on this; I honestly wish I could talk to her about my life, but I've never really felt I could be totally open with her for whatever reason.  Unfortunately I seem to have some kind of habit or complex about lying to her after years of 6 to 10-year-old me taking a spoon to the sugar jar... 5 minutes later she came and got me out of bed and made me 'fess up.

I was genuinely terrified for a few minutes there, because after the expected lecture about trust came a veiled threat: "And you expect us to let you take the car to New Jersey?" - referring to my intent to go to the beach with the family of this same friend this summer.  Interestingly, the possibility that she would threaten to take that away had occurred to me as the most likely consequence if she were to catch me, but I had dismissed it.  I was stuck sitting there trying to think of ways to talk myself out of this one, which actually resulted in what turned out to be an unexpected stroke of brilliance.  I wrote her a letter via email to apologize and tell her why I snuck out - basically that I felt like I'd missed the train on rebellious-teenager-hood, and stayed in bed until I figured she'd have checked her email.  Here's the crazy part:  IT WORKED, Y'ALL.  She emailed me back and was all, "Of course I forgive you, and hope you have a nice lie-in."  WHAT IS THIS, GUYS???  Parents are reasonable creatures after all?  Could this be possible?  I was expecting her to at least get me up early and make me do dishes as punishment.  But I got off scott-free, and better.

So my suggestion, if you ever find yourself doing something you regret (if only because you were caught), write your parents a letter.  This actually shouldn't be that surprising; I've been told by various sundry parties that if you act like an adult, you'll be treated like one.  Still, it's kind-of surreal to see it working in such a whack situation.

Of course, the part that sucks is that I'm still a suck-up, goody-two-shoes, un-rebellious teenage daughter.


I'm listening to: Billy Joel Radio on Pandora

I'm reading: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, by Susanna Clarke

How Sad It Is

When you're checking your blogger stats, and looking at your page views, saying to yourself, "Oh well, at least ONE PERSON is reading my blog!...
... and then you realize that that one person is yourself.

I'm not trying to throw myself a pity party here, but

Lies.

Yes I am.  I would love nothing more than for someone to leave a comment saying "Poor Claire!  I read your blog!  I've just been using a secret computer that doesn't trigger your page views!" just to make me feel better about myself, even though it would be a lie.
                                        bitchbitchmoanmoan
I'm sure this is a fantastically productive way to get people to read my blog.
How silly I was, with my three lovely followers, to want more.  I said to myself, "Oh look, three of my lovely friends are following my blog.  Well that's nice, but it would be great if more people would come read the words that I am (not) writing."  I take it back.  I take it all back.  Come back, my three lovely followers!  Even just one?  It's ironic, as I started this whole thing off by saying that I didn't care whether anyone read this or not, and that I just wanted to improve my writing

Lies.

I want what I've always wanted.  Attention.  People telling me that things I do are worthwhile.  That sounds so pathetic--I know that I'm making a valuable contribution to things and people around me.  People even tell me that they appreciate things I do--really, they do!  So why am I still craving acknowledgement?

The point is, I can't fool anyone, not even myself.  As much as I like to set myself up on a lofty pedestal in my head, I'm no less vain than anyone else out there, and probably considerably more so than some.  And it makes me feel pathetic, and then I end up whining about it on my blog, and then I just spiral downwards into a viscous self-pity/hate thingamadoohicky.  And then I expect people to feel sorry for me?
Aha. Ahahahahaha.
That was the sound of my laughter, in case you couldn't tell.

Although, I suppose that if no one is reading this, then it doesn't really matter what I write

Lies.

It does matter, because if I let myself give in to this, then I'm not being as strong as I should be could be am.  I don't need to whine.  It's not getting me anywhere.  I owe myself better than this.

Wow, I think I just talked myself out of being depressed and mopey.  Yay!!! Rainbows and unicorns!


But I still want people to read my blog.


I'm listening to: Darren Criss (in all of his gloriousness) singing "Somewhere Only We Know" by Keane.  This made me cry, it's so beautiful.  CANNOT WAIT FOR THE RELEASE OF THAT WARBLER'S ALBUM.
I'm reading: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, by Susanna Clarke

I don't know if anyone's actually reading this anymore

And it's okay if no one is--really--but if you are, what do you think about me shifting this into a costuming/sewing blog?  I have a lot of cool projects in the works, so if you'd be interested in hearing about them and seeing pictures, give a shout-out in the comments.  Of course, you should also let me know  if you think I'm hilarious and need to keep posting stuff like my older posts... but I seriously doubt that that's the case for anyone.  Either way, I want your opinions!

Reasons I love babysitting

I got to watch Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back with the neighbors' kids tonight.  And I'm about to get payed for it.  Best.  Night.  Ever.

I'm listening to: the soundtrack of Star Wars, duh.
I'm reading: haha, nothing, because I'm watching Star Wars!!!


Update: Got home (after being paid $75 for six hours, for half of which the kids were asleep!!!) and I found my cell, which has been missing for five days.  This makes this, like, the double best night ever.

Please, please don't leave me

This morning, as she was rushing around trying to get out the door to work, my mom slipped on the stairs.  She only slipped a couple of steps, and stayed on her feet and she's totally fine, so no worries.  But she yelled out of surprise.  I was sitting at the dining room table, which is essentially at the top of the stairs, so when I heard the thump of her slipping and her yell, I thought she had fallen down the stairs--I screamed bloody murder.  Well, actually, I screamed, "Mom!"...

and then immediately started sobbing uncontrollably.  Even though she was completely fine, I couldn't stop crying for almost ten minutes.  It was literally the most terrifying thing that has happened to me in as long as I can remember, near-death-while-driving scares included.

Of course, as is the cliché, it all happened so fast--I'm guessing she slipped, yelled, and I screamed all within 1 second--so I have no idea if I thought she was dead or just injured before logic kicked in.  I mean, logically, I've slipped on the stairs the same way many a time, as well as having legitimately fallen down the stairs a couple of times, including when I was six and tumbled head-over heels from about 2/3 of the way up, and I think I even hit my head on the railing or something (although not on the tile-over-cement floor of the basement), but even then, the worst I had was a few bruises; no concussion or anything.  So, logically, the probability of her sustaining any real injury, even from falling down the stairs, is pretty small. Apparently my instincts thought otherwise, because I'm still shaken.

We see people get hurt or fall down all the time, simply because it's not an uncommon occurrence.  You're walking through the school hallways, and your friend trips and lands on her behind.  You sort-of laugh and say, "omigosh, are you okay?!" because you don't want to be rude by just straight-up laughing at her, but it is pretty funny because she looked just like someone in a movie in a classic trip-and-fall sequence.  Secretly, you're actually instinctually worried, which is also why you laugh--to convince yourself that it's not serious.  Once you help her up and she brushes herself off, depending on how well you know her, you can really laugh, and she does too, because now you've been completely reassured that she's completely okay, and now it's just funny.  The point, though, is that we SEE people falling all the time.  When you see someone fall, you know they're probably okay, because you have the instant visual confirmation that blood's not spurting out of a gash in their head, or their arm's not hanging off at a funny angle or whatever.  Without that visual confirmation, my brain spazzed.

I think there's more to it than that, though.  Because I don't think most kids older than six or so could be brought to tears by thinking their mom fell down the stairs.  Inevitably, I spent the rest of the morning with nightmarish "what if?" scenarios playing on an endless reel in my head.  What if my mom died?  My dad?  Both of them?  I honestly don't think I could live without them.  A lot of people probably say that, but then, people die, and thus, people's parents die, and a lot of people continue to live after having lost loved ones.  How do they do it?  I don't think I'd have the strength--I'm not saying I'd commit suicide, but I think if you can die of a broken heart, I would.  Am I too emotionally attached to my family for an eighteen-year-old, or do other people feel this way too?

While I was at MSU in the fall, I made a group of pretty close friends in my dorm, including my roommate.  My roommate was from Montana, so she was able to see her family every so often during the semester, but she told me she still missed them a lot every day.  The other girls in our group were all from the East Coast, like me, and while one of them is close to her family, the other two are somewhat estranged from theirs.  One girl had been sent to military school during high school, and her parents knew very little about her life--she was keeping her 20-something year old boyfriend a secret from them, not to mention her drug and alcohol habits.  The other lost her dad a number of years ago, and though she gets along with her mom, they're not particularly close.  Her grandparents "disapprove" of her, and I don't think they talk.  The other girl from the East Coast who is close to her family lost her grandmother near the end of the semester and had to fly home on short notice, and my roommate was dealing with some long-distance relationship issues with a guy in her  home town.  Through all of this, I guess you could say my relationships were the most intact of anyone in our group; I was the only one who didn't have to deal, at some point, with strained relations or losing a loved one.  Yet I was the one who cried every day for two weeks in November because I missed my mommy.  Is it unhealthy to be that attached to your family?  What am I going to do when my parents eventually get old and pass away, assuming they don't die early from some freak accident?  Now that I'm home, I literally find myself missing my mom while she's away at work for the day; I just want to be a little kid again so I can climb into her arms and have her tell me that everything's going to be okay.

Photo-uploading test-things. I'd say "Ignore," but don't if you want to see a pretty picture!

This is a test to figure out if I can upload photos from Alex* now, since I was having a ton of difficulty with that eight months ago.  If it works, you should be able to see this pretty picture I took while I was in Montana.  This is up in the Hyalite mountains, where we went for the Honors freshman retreat, and it's one of the most gorgeous things I've ever seen.  Enjoy!!!
*my MacBook


Hey, that was super-easy and totally worked!  Yay!

A Brief Note on What Happened Last Night

That sounds dirty.  Whatever.  It wasn't supposed to be.  Actually, that's totally a lie.  I sat here for five minutes trying to think of a way to make into some kind of That's What She Said joke or something, and that's the best I could come up with.  Lame.  It doesn't really even sound dirty.  See, folks, this is what happens when I think maybe I could be funny... but then I'm not.

Concerns regarding my titling abilities aside, I posted a not-very-coherent post last night, which I regret in some ways.  Namely, that I let myself go so far and for so long from my goal to keep writing and got so wound up about it that when I finally came back, that is the kind of incoherent crap I spewed forth.  But I've decided to leave it, as is, as a lesson/incentive to myself to keep writing.

***It should be noted that last night's post was in no way edited, and I'm kind-of proud of my unedited 1 a.m. grammar and spelling skills.  It's not well-written or anything, but at least I didn't make any egregious errors.***


Anyways.  I'm back.  I think.  In retrospect, my earlier misguided attempts at blogging (all the way back in August--I understand if you can't remember back that far, people; it was the freaking stone age) were even more failsauce than I realized at the time, so I'm hoping to try harder/be better this time 'round.  I'm not trying to throw myself a pity-party, just recognizing that I need to do some things better if this is going to work.  All I ask is that you bear with me as I try to figure out what I want this to be--I don't want to try to label this right off the bat like I did last time, because I think that was one of the reasons it didn't work all that well.  So hang in there, and maybe we can get to the point where I'm able to write posts that people maybe actually want to read, in and of that you might actually find them somewhat amusing and/or they will not be so long that you're just like, "FUUUUUUU.... this is way too long so I'm totes just not gonna read it, because Claire is uncool and unfunny and apparently cannot stop a sentence or paragraph once she gets going, yo."  Case in point, y'all, case in point.  Adieu.

I'm still gonna keep this stuff though, because I think it's cool.
I'm listening to:  This song by Coeur de Pirate, called "Comme des Enfants."
I'm reading:  FREE: The Future of a Radical Price, by Chris Anderson

I've done this for too many consecutive nights to not do something about it.  See, as tired as I am at the end of every day, I often spend hours lying awake in bed because my brain just WILL NOT SHUT OFF.  I'm pretty sure I get my best ideas when I'm lying awake in bed at 11pm (or 1am, or 3:47am...) wanting nothing more than to fall asleep (yeah, I know, welcome to the club, that happens to everyone, so I've heard, etc, etc), but I never do anything about it.  There are two reasons: a) I always manage to convince my sleep-deprived brain that if these ideas are really all that fantasmagorical, I will surely remember them in the morning (of course I never do), and b) I have this irrational fear that if I start trying to write anything down, I'll be too distracted by the process of writing to remember all of my ideas.  Technically, this isn't actually an irrational fear, because as I'm discovering *at this very moment*, it's completely true that I've forgotten most of what I was thinking before I pulled out my computer to try to record what I'm thinking (raise your hand if you followed that).  HOWEVER, it is really stupid, because I KNOW that if I don't write stuff down, I won't remember it, so it's 100% better to try to write and only be able to record, oh, say 30% of what I'm thinking, than to not write and forget 100% of that 30%, PLUS all that other stuff.  Yay for math!

In an effort to remember as much as possible, here are summaries of some of the things I've been thinking in the last hour or so, in bullet form to be (possibly) expounded upon at a later time:
~ I really need to start blogging again
~Maria is so talented at poetry and life and other stuff ---> I have regained some faith in my generation
~I miss talking to my friends - can you call people your friends if you hardly ever talk to them and sometimes it's awkward when you do, but mostly you just really really love them and don't want them to ever stop being a part of your life? (And that is a whole 'nuther story...)
~Am I uncreative?  Is that different from just not being creative?  Witnessing my friends' incredible creativity has led me to believe that I am either uncreative or not creative or possibly just not as smart as I thought I was.
~I'm growing up too fast, and at the same time not fast enough.  I have all these Responsible Adult responsibilities, like my jobs, and things I've promised people I'd do, and paying my credit card bills, and dealing with doctors, and not pissing off my mom (since I'm now Officially An Eighteen-Year-Old Living In Her Parents' House And Mooching Off Them {even though I have a legitimate reason to do so}); I can handle the responsibilities, but when I do, other things like trying to be creative and maintaining friendships fall by the wayside.  ---> I'm afraid of turning into my mother.
~This is turning into less of a bullet list and more of a series of paragraphs separated by whatever these ~ squiggles are called.
~Also, these aren't ideas, they're things I'm worried about.
~Ideas are more like the following:
-Turn costume-making into a profitable venture
-Finish Debbie's prayer shall
-Pray more in general
-And dammit, now this is just turning into a to-do list...

I can't do this.