poste la quinzième: a day in the life, dans laquelle I sort of talk about Halloween but mostly talk about nothing. except myself. just sayin'.

Note: jeez this was an incredibly trivial post, but it felt so important at the time. I wrote this on Halloween.

Preface:

I have (clearly) been an apathetic blogger lately. I am tempted to apologize, but then I would be guilty of the hubris* of thinking that this blog matters to anyone, (this assumption on my part is perhaps implied by the fact that I am blogging in the first place, because otherwise I could just use my gurrrnal), and since I really just want to drag everyone I love into the procrastinatorial vortex that is the internet, it would also be a lie. And since I have already admitted my vanity and hubris, let's just continue in that vein by going step by step through my day today.

Good morning, hot vater?:

First of all, I will spare you the details of the highly "relevant" and "interesting" dreams I was having when I woke up, so you should begin this paragraph feeling hopeful that I will be omitting all subsequent inconsequential details as well: this is not the case (cue image of soft feathery hopes being dashed against barnacley shore).

I woke up in a very good mood. This was high point number one of the day, because lately I have been waking up feeling somewhere in the range of neutral, glad-I-didn't-die-in-my-sleep-but-wish-I-didn't-have-to-get-up-yet, to exhausted-by-the-idea-of-looking-at-my-phone-long-enough-to-figure-out-how-to-snooze-it.

I spent the morning pretending to do yoga (unsuccessful because I am sore from climbing*), gurrnaling, and playing with my hair in the mirror while debating such pressing issues as whether or not to cut it at the next (at least 6 weeks distant) opportunity and whether or not to taint this new growth with fuchsia (another extremely pressing decision that will have to be made by sometime mid-winter quarter). Also, eating. I made a chevre and tomato sandwich for breakfast (how Columbaen) that was 18 inches long, and that was only half the baguette (how French)!

(and now we switch into the voice of me a week later finishing this up):

Since it was Halloween, I naturally needed a costume, but since it was Paris I also needed to be stealth*. Parisians do not wear their hearts on their sleeves. I looked in the mirror and realized I was halfway costumed already--wearing a Columbae shirt and looking both very American and very hippie (ie, probably exactly how you picture me in your fondest memories). So, I decided to claim my roots and just dress up as American. (Please don't judge me for this, my insides already have permanent damage from the self-inflicted cringing.) Anyway, I was feeling very good and Clare-y in my most commonly worn outfit (not this quarter but in life these past 3 years)*: my favorite tie-dye Cbae shirt, black jeans (I would have worn gray but the city life had not been kind to them and they were dirty), purple sneakerz, my wonderful effective raincoat instead of the f-ing umbrella, my beloved backpack, and giant emo free store headphones.

I ended up not even needing the rain jacket because it was Stanford weather. I'm not sure what other supposedly blog-worthy stuff happened that day. I went to French class, hung out for a while, and then came back to a night of watching tv in bed. The L Word and I have made amends.

There were some French kids out making noise, I think trying to trick-or-treat...seemed unsuccessful. As I was walking home from the Metro, I was on a particularly dark block and looking at my feet (navigating the minefield of canine and human secretions), when I glanced up at someone approaching me in full witches' robes and hat, and I nearly contributed to the sidewalk sewage before remembering it was Halloween.

And then I ate chocolate pudding in bed and celebrated not going out.

THE END

-Clarebear

* I would like to thank Oedipus and my 9th grade English teacher Ms. Shaddy for teaching me this word.
* This is technically true, but the bigger issue is that, well, I am no longer the class champion in the Sit and Reach...standing up straight is practically a stretch these days.
* Not ninja stealth, more like meta-so-stealth-you-don't-even-realize-I'm-a-ninja stealth. Hypothetically speaking. If I were a ninja, I mean.
* I am blogging about an outfit. WHO AM I??