"She wanted to die; She wanted to live in Paris."

--Madame Bovary

Mediated Medium

Sitting down, waiting to begin. Starting slow and picking speed. A first glance, where to begin. Stepping dance without end. Patient waltz of information. A look, a laugh, a turn of head. Did you like that line? I’ll say it again. Careful clicking, keys in time. Drifting sideways glances: careful look again. Two strokes and I amend. A clock of lies, salut Mon Cheri. A last thing forgotten. A look, a laugh, a dance at end. Reaching over and pressing send.

Love Letter to a Blog

It has been a long time since last we spoke but I am thinking of you, I want you to know. Before, words would flow out of me, their only hinderance the speed of my keystrokes. Now there is silence. I want to reach out to you again and tell you all about the life I have been living but my words are now lost. I am without a home or country but I feel firmly rooted in place. My longing for independence is gone as I find myself alone. What could I telll you about this alien land? It is cold here. My bed is empty and my heart is slowly following its lead. I want to be happy, and I have found joy, but my young soul is aging every day. No longer do I feel the sheer abandonment of youth but, rather, the cold practicality of wisdom. I want to be stupid and reckless but there are things I love greater than my selfish need.
I love the sense of accomplishment.
I love a well-rested body and a clear head.
I love the moments of silent reflection that last for hours.
I love knowing exactly what I want
I hate not having it
I have not written in a long time but I want you to know I am thinking of you. I need you to know there is something here that I cannot say but one day I will. I will tell you everything, just give me the time.

i want to write so much but it is hard to keep switching between french and english. i feel as though my english gets worse as my french gets better.

so i have developed a new language......... frenglish.... a mixture of french and english that is always in my head as i try to decipher between french and english constantly. if people tell you that they speak english everywhere then you should call them a liar.... preferably quite loudly whilst pointing your finger accusingly and holding something that is burning.

i tried to upload a picture but it didn't work.......darn free internet computer!!!!!

UPDATE:

I was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle this day when it finally came. Today, I will be taking my LSAT at 8am and then flying to Paris at 5pm. By tomorrow night, I will be settling into my new home for the next eight months. All of that to say that I am unsure when I will be able to blog again. Hopefully, I will have some new insight when I do get back. If it takes time, don't lose hope! Good things come to those who wait...

Thoughts on Dial-Up

I've been visiting my folks in the mountains of tennessee for the past week. They have internet but it is dial-up, thus quite slow. I forgot my iPod and Audacity to Hope seems a bit too much to read at times, so I am left alone to my thoughts a lot. I try not to let this happen too much, because if I do, I know I will begin to stress about either France or my LSAT. I also might think too much of my friends. This is where the hurt is now. For some reason, the pain of leaving seems far greater than it did two years ago when I boarded a plane for England. My number and depth of relationships has grown enormously and I can't help but be saddened at the thought of leaving all of these wonderful people behind.

There's the love that could have been
The friend who always listened
The one who always laughed
The pondering soul that drove me
together, they make up my past

There are days I wonder if I really will have the courage to make all of my dreams come true. I begin to think of the day when I will look around me and know that I have made it to the place I always dreamt I would be. I wonder what that day will look like.

I have effectively chosen Washington College and am waiting for them to choose me. This will mean that I will leave Texas behind. The thought sobers me greatly, because inside I know that I am only as content as the amount of love that surrounds me. In a way I am thankful that this is a choice I have made by myself; my eyes are the only ones I will have to hold accountable. Yet the truth is that I only walk away from the things I love. Somewhere in my young mind it started to make sense that if I walked away first then I could never be left. It's a pattern that follows me to this day.

People praise my traveling spirit but I tell them there is no other way I can be. I am bound by this restless soul that spurs me forward at the very whisper of ritual or normalcy. I see people content in their bubble and I envy beyond belief. I can only find joy in the small things when I know those things have a time limit, a forseeable end.

It's getting too late and too personal, but i'm breaking and it hurts. If there is one thing that drives my creativity it is the darkness that our souls fall into at times.

That Crazy Clare, She's Planning Again....


A lot has been going on lately. My father was in for a visit. He was supposed to be here for ten days but he had to leave early this morning beause my step-mom fell from the second story of their house in Tennessee. She shattered her ankle and hip and broke her shoulder. For those who do pray, I appreciate your concern.

I was thankful to be with my dad for the few days he was here. My brother came down this weekend so we could all hang out as a big happy family. We sat around on the lazy saturday afternoon and talked about politics and religion. Yeah, my family is like that. We're all philosophers in our own right and very much enjoy hearing the thought processes of one another.

It was also a healing weekend. My father and I have had our ups and downs over the years. Mostly starting with when I was born and he went through a mid-life crisis. He has been stepping up to the plate lately and I've been relying on him more and more. He even said he would take me to visit my dream school in D.C. when I'm visiting him later this month.

My dream school- I had heard of this school before but hadn't researched it fully until lately. Washington College of Law has a program where you spend the first two years in D.C. at the law school there and then spend two years at the University of Paris X-Nanterre. Upon graduation and passage of the bar, you will be certified to practice law in D.C. and the European Union (and possibly in Africa, Asia, and South America). Obviously, to me, the perfect program. But it is another commitment. I'm already looking at leaving and this will mean leaving again but for a much longer time. I've heard it all before- do it while you are young and unmarried. I am heading their advice obviously but I'm hoping that one day I will slow down because in the deepest part of me I do want a family and a sense of home. I've decided to apply Earl Decision (for anyone who doesn't know that means I have a better chance of getting in but, if I do, the decision is binding). I started working on my application's personal statement last night- pretty good if I don't say so myself.

Also, I got my visa and plane ticket, which means all my paperwork is done!

So that's the update. Other than that, I'm doing great. For those who know me- you know I'm happiest when I have my five-year plan ironed out.

Who's Left and Who's Leaving


I'm back with scars to show
back with the streets I know will never take me anywhere but here...
we meet here for our dress rehearsal to say: "I wanted it this way"...
all this time lingers undefined
someone choose
who's left and who's leaving....
lists of all that you gave me
a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest
the best parts of lonely....

This makes me think about my plans to leave the country. I remember one night in the airport in London, thinking of going home. I remember this thought hit me so powerfully, that some are left and others are leaving. I thought of ______'s anger that he was being left and my anger that he didn't understand what it meant to be leaving. Then I realized that it's the same. Whether you are the one being left, or the one leaving, it all hurts. The pain in each step as I walked away was echoed in them as they watched my feet.

No post for a couple of days, I'm going to Barcelona. How sweet is my life? It's awesome when a guy hits on you at the club and ask what you're doing this weekend and you say; "Barcelona", next weekend?
"Italy"
next weekend?
"Norway"
after that?
"Inverness (Loch Ness)"
and then?
"London"
so I'm pretty much never going to see you again?
'yeah pretty much'

I hated a whole country yesterday

I am reminded of the incident by the faded mark of a black X on my right hand, the mark of the Sugar House. Last night was...uneventful. I danced a lot with my girls and posed for pictures to remember the night. It was after the we left the club to go to the Chippy that things really started getting interested (a Chippy is a Chip Shop, a place that sells french fries, burgers, pizza, and kebabs). We got the usual, cheesy chips with extra vinegar and as we waited for our order these three drunk english guys realized that some of us were American. They proceeded to ask us if we were from America to which I reponded, no I'm from Canada. My friend Lisa said she was from Mexico and Elizabeth was from Argentina. Our joke seemed to rile the guys more as they them proceeded to harass us about Bush and about being stupid Americans. Of course this is my favorite when loud drunk British people tell me they hate Americans because we're loud and stupid. Then to add insult to injury we were asked to leave by the chippy owners because they didn't want anything to happen. I've been living in England since October and sometimes I just don't want to be a foreigner. I just want to go out, have some fun with my friends, and eat cheesy chips. When I came back to Texas for Christmas break it was such a relief to be able to go about my business without drawing attention that I might in anyway be considered abnormal. Though then a strange thing happened and I felt abnormal in America anyway because I had adapted to Britian. Will I ever have a home again?