Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Nothing changes on New Year's Day
Singing along to: Cat Stevens, Rubylove
Dear 2007,
So long, farewell, thanks for all the fish, etc. You were not an exceptional year, one way or the other, but you do pass my one important test: you did not suck as badly as 2005. In fact, you did not even come close to that low. Congratulations!
Love,
Claire
***
Dear 2008,
Hello! I'm not too optimistic about you, given that I woke up this morning with a sore throat and cramps (TMI alert!), but first impressions aren't everything, right? You have 365 days to improve upon this one, so you might want to get on that.
I'm also a little worried because in September you will begin another senior year, and what if senior year is just cursed for me? I don't think it's possible for my senior year of college to be as gray and miserable as my senior year of high school, but I also don't think it's a good idea to challenge the universe on that score.
Sure, many of the things that made my previous senior year so bad cannot possibly come into play again. Chief among these are: being seventeen years old, taking AP classes with crazy teachers, still being in high school, and being seventeen years old. But on the other hand, I'll be facing the biggest change of my life since that time when I came blinking into the world, and 2008, you know how I feel about change.
In closing, New Year, I have no resolutions, but a few simple requests. Here's what I'd like from you in the coming months:
1) A sense of direction (literal and metaphorical, please)
2) More bookshelves
3) A trailer to live in for my senior year
4) Complete mastery of the art of deadpan humor
That's not too much to ask, is it?
Love,
Claire
Dear 2007,
So long, farewell, thanks for all the fish, etc. You were not an exceptional year, one way or the other, but you do pass my one important test: you did not suck as badly as 2005. In fact, you did not even come close to that low. Congratulations!
Love,
Claire
***
Dear 2008,
Hello! I'm not too optimistic about you, given that I woke up this morning with a sore throat and cramps (TMI alert!), but first impressions aren't everything, right? You have 365 days to improve upon this one, so you might want to get on that.
I'm also a little worried because in September you will begin another senior year, and what if senior year is just cursed for me? I don't think it's possible for my senior year of college to be as gray and miserable as my senior year of high school, but I also don't think it's a good idea to challenge the universe on that score.
Sure, many of the things that made my previous senior year so bad cannot possibly come into play again. Chief among these are: being seventeen years old, taking AP classes with crazy teachers, still being in high school, and being seventeen years old. But on the other hand, I'll be facing the biggest change of my life since that time when I came blinking into the world, and 2008, you know how I feel about change.
In closing, New Year, I have no resolutions, but a few simple requests. Here's what I'd like from you in the coming months:
1) A sense of direction (literal and metaphorical, please)
2) More bookshelves
3) A trailer to live in for my senior year
4) Complete mastery of the art of deadpan humor
That's not too much to ask, is it?
Love,
Claire
Labels: Letters to You
Friday, November 30, 2007
This one's for the ladies
Singing along to: Keane, Bedshaped
Dear Ladies of the World,
Tights + longish t-shirt DO NOT EQUAL a complete outfit. EVER.
"But what if I have really fantastic legs?" you might ask. DOESN'T MATTER. In fact, such a get-up makes even your toothpick legs look fat. So there.
"But it's not a t-shirt, it's a tunic!" you might protest. SAME THING. It still looks like you forgot pants.
"But those aren't tights, they're leggings," you might argue. WHATEVER. If there is thigh skin shining through--even they are even the teeniest bit sheer--then they are tights, not leggings. If you can't tell the difference, go back to fashion school, because believe me, everyone else can.
(Although, honestly, leggings and a longish t-shirt don't really make an outfit either, but at least leggings are never see through.)
Thank you for your understanding. I trust you will take this advice into account next time you get dressed.
Love,
Claire
PS: Aren't you cold in that outfit?
Dear Ladies of the World,
Tights + longish t-shirt DO NOT EQUAL a complete outfit. EVER.
"But what if I have really fantastic legs?" you might ask. DOESN'T MATTER. In fact, such a get-up makes even your toothpick legs look fat. So there.
"But it's not a t-shirt, it's a tunic!" you might protest. SAME THING. It still looks like you forgot pants.
"But those aren't tights, they're leggings," you might argue. WHATEVER. If there is thigh skin shining through--even they are even the teeniest bit sheer--then they are tights, not leggings. If you can't tell the difference, go back to fashion school, because believe me, everyone else can.
(Although, honestly, leggings and a longish t-shirt don't really make an outfit either, but at least leggings are never see through.)
Thank you for your understanding. I trust you will take this advice into account next time you get dressed.
Love,
Claire
PS: Aren't you cold in that outfit?
Labels: Letters to You
Friday, November 02, 2007
Letters to You: Politcal Edition
Singing along to: Damien Rice, Cannonball
Dear Hillary Clinton,
Quit trying to make this presidential race a battle of the sexes. It's not. Also, stop hiding behind your gender when your rivals criticize you. It was a flipping debate. Of course they're going to criticize you, because you're all politicians and that's the only way you know how to operate.
It's also lovely that you have girl parts, but it really doesn't affect anything. When/if I vote for a man in November of 2008, it's going to be because I prefer his politics, not because, wow, do I ever love that glass ceiling.
Plus: the more you make your gender a campaign issue, the more people will wonder if, hmmm, are you maybe compensating for something? Possibly trying to distract voters from important issues like your political agenda by falling back on an emotional but irrelevant roll of the genetic dice?
Just something to think about.
(Not that it matters, because you'll probably win anyway. Whatever.)
Love,
Claire,
who disagrees with all politicians on principle anyway
Dear Hillary Clinton,
Quit trying to make this presidential race a battle of the sexes. It's not. Also, stop hiding behind your gender when your rivals criticize you. It was a flipping debate. Of course they're going to criticize you, because you're all politicians and that's the only way you know how to operate.
It's also lovely that you have girl parts, but it really doesn't affect anything. When/if I vote for a man in November of 2008, it's going to be because I prefer his politics, not because, wow, do I ever love that glass ceiling.
Plus: the more you make your gender a campaign issue, the more people will wonder if, hmmm, are you maybe compensating for something? Possibly trying to distract voters from important issues like your political agenda by falling back on an emotional but irrelevant roll of the genetic dice?
Just something to think about.
(Not that it matters, because you'll probably win anyway. Whatever.)
Love,
Claire,
who disagrees with all politicians on principle anyway
Labels: Letters to You
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Letters to you
Singing along to: Cat Stevens, The Wind
Dear Young Man in My Math Class,
Nice t-shirt. I've actually always wanted a shirt that says "I'M AN ASSHOLE" across the chest in bright bold letters, but I've never been able to find the perfect one. You seem to have accomplished that goal. Congratulations.
What's that you say? That's not what your t-shirt actually said? Yes, it is. I guess they just forgot to tell you at the store, but any shirt that reads "No, I will not go out with you," actually proclaims your asshole status to every woman (and most decent men) that you encounter while wearing it.
You really made my slapping hand itch, I'll tell you that, but luckily Al Gore made the Internet so I can vent my frustrations without getting written up for assault.
Of course, I doubt that's the effect you thought you were having. You probably thought you were doing me a favor, cluing me in on your lack of interest before I threw myself desperately at your feet, because OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO HOT, CAN I HAVE YOUR BABIES? WE COULD BE SO HAPPY TOGETHER. The desire, it is uncontrollable. So maybe I should be thanking you for saving me from the inevitable pangs of rejection I would have felt had I dared to approach you, sitting there on your throne of sex-godliness.
Or not.
Because honestly? You're not that hot. And if your questionably witty t-shirt is any indication, you don't have a winning personality, either.
Smoochies,
Claire
P.S. Yes, yes, I know there are many worse and more asshole-ish t-shirts out there. But yours was the one I saw today, you lucky thing, so you get to feel the sharp edge of my cutting wit.
Dear Young Man in My Math Class,
Nice t-shirt. I've actually always wanted a shirt that says "I'M AN ASSHOLE" across the chest in bright bold letters, but I've never been able to find the perfect one. You seem to have accomplished that goal. Congratulations.
What's that you say? That's not what your t-shirt actually said? Yes, it is. I guess they just forgot to tell you at the store, but any shirt that reads "No, I will not go out with you," actually proclaims your asshole status to every woman (and most decent men) that you encounter while wearing it.
You really made my slapping hand itch, I'll tell you that, but luckily Al Gore made the Internet so I can vent my frustrations without getting written up for assault.
Of course, I doubt that's the effect you thought you were having. You probably thought you were doing me a favor, cluing me in on your lack of interest before I threw myself desperately at your feet, because OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO HOT, CAN I HAVE YOUR BABIES? WE COULD BE SO HAPPY TOGETHER. The desire, it is uncontrollable. So maybe I should be thanking you for saving me from the inevitable pangs of rejection I would have felt had I dared to approach you, sitting there on your throne of sex-godliness.
Or not.
Because honestly? You're not that hot. And if your questionably witty t-shirt is any indication, you don't have a winning personality, either.
Smoochies,
Claire
P.S. Yes, yes, I know there are many worse and more asshole-ish t-shirts out there. But yours was the one I saw today, you lucky thing, so you get to feel the sharp edge of my cutting wit.
Labels: College, Letters to You
Saturday, September 15, 2007
To my Paycheck, wherever I may find it
Singing along to: Better Than Ezra, Rosealia
Dear Paycheck,
Where are you? Please come soon. It's been so long since I've seen you in my bank account and been reassured by your comforting presence. I've worked hard to earn you this week; I think we deserve each other. I miss you. I need you in my life. Come back to me.
We could have such fun together. I need a new pair of all-purpose cold-weather shoes. We could go shopping together, just like old times. Oh, Paycheck, we used to have such fun together. But I need you for the daily grind, too, dearest. You're there when I want to have fun, but I need to know that you'll support me all the time. I have dues to pay, and did you know that Metro is considering a fare hike? I'll need you to help me with that. I can't make it on my own.
Come back to me! Together we can do anything.
Love,
Claire
Dear Paycheck,
Where are you? Please come soon. It's been so long since I've seen you in my bank account and been reassured by your comforting presence. I've worked hard to earn you this week; I think we deserve each other. I miss you. I need you in my life. Come back to me.
We could have such fun together. I need a new pair of all-purpose cold-weather shoes. We could go shopping together, just like old times. Oh, Paycheck, we used to have such fun together. But I need you for the daily grind, too, dearest. You're there when I want to have fun, but I need to know that you'll support me all the time. I have dues to pay, and did you know that Metro is considering a fare hike? I'll need you to help me with that. I can't make it on my own.
Come back to me! Together we can do anything.
Love,
Claire
Labels: Letters to You
Home - Email - Flickr - RSS
All text and images © me, 2003-2008. Remember: every time you steal, God kills a kitten.
