07:22 p.m. Saturday, December 21, 2002

I have the feeling this is going to be a somewhat incoherant, rambling entry. Bear with me- I can't be brilliant all the time.

I've never understood those women who say "I don't like women. I only have a couple women friends, and the rest are guys. Women are cattier, they backstab, they're meaner." I don't understand that.

I don't think it's a feminine trait to talk behind people's backs, be cruel, or backstabbing. I have seen those traits in both men and women. I have also seen kindness and sensitivity and caring in both sexes.

Some women I have heard say these things have explained that they were tomboys growing up, that they always felt more comfortable with guys than with girls.

I have two older brothers that I idolized in a way while growing up. I would follow them around, begging to play GI Joes with them. When they would play mafia boss and gangster, I would play the boss's girlfriend. Anything to be included in their world.

But I still love having woman friends. I can explain how I feel and they understand. With my guy friends, I feel like I have to justify more, explain more in depth, and they still sometimes don't get it. I may not always like what a woman does, but I more often than not understand why she did it. People say that men are simple; women are complicated. I don't see it that way. I can look in a woman's eyes and see who they are more clearly than a man's.

Last night, I got an IM from a former friend that really surprised me. I won't go into the incredibly long and boring details, but I'll give a little background. We had hung out almost every day in the summer. As school started and things got busier, we stopped seeing each other so often.

At one point, he hurt my feelings when I asked him to do something and he responded by saying, 'I don't want to hang out with women right now.' We argued about it, and I was hurt, but I let it go. I guess I thought he would get over it eventually and we could be friends again.

Then, one day, I went to his livejournal to see how he was doing. It had been a couple weeks since we had talked. He had just written an entry, using my first and last name, saying that he had never liked me and was only my friend because he was lonely.

I don't remember feeling angry or hurt, just really confused. I could see no explanation as to why he would be so cruel and mean. With my first and last name!

I let it go. I chalked it up to making a bad decision on who to be friends with. I thought it over and over, and while I knew it wasn't my fault, part of me felt that it had proven my distrust of new people. In a way, I could justify my defensive nature by saying 'See, that's what happens when you open up to people.'

Last night, I got an IM from him. It started out with 'Merry Christmas'. He went on by apologizing. He said that he had screwed some things up, and was trying to fix them. He said he had been angry about some things and had taken it out on me. He said he understood if I didn't want to talk again, but 'we should catch up'.

To all of this, I barely responded with 'Okay. I don't know.' And that was it. It was the AIM version of being completely speechless.

I've thought about it. I have always been a person who could forgive almost anyone for almost anything, and I think I can forgive him. But I don't think I can ever trust him again, and without trust, we can't be friends again.

It makes me feel a little guilty for some reason. I mean, it's the Holidays, right? The time for being all cheery and forgiving and letting bygones be bygones.

I'm not the type to hold grudges, but I can't see myself opening myself up to him ever again. It was all too much.

It would be easier if I never cared for the asshole, but I did. He was a good friend during that time. I still feel confused, no matter how many people tell me that I don't need a friend like that. I've always believed in second chances, but I don't think I can do that this time.

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

---

01:18 p.m. Wednesday, December 18, 2002

Now that I'm back on the market, I've started thinking about what I want in a guy. If you looked at the men in my past, you'd realize I'm generally not that picky, but now is as good a time as any to start being more selective. And so, because I like lists, I've made a list of important qualities that I look for in a man.

Not all of these are deal-breakers, but if you don't fit many of them, you're out of luck. I tried to leave out some of the more obvious ones, like 'I must find you attractive' and 'Don't be a dick'.

Disclaimer: I am well aware that noone is beating down my door to date me anyways, and this list may be why.

And so with out further ado, I give thee:

The still-not-finished list of what I look for in a potential suitor (heh)

1. You must not be an Aggie. (Okay, that first one is a joke.)
2. You must be taller than me. (Might as well be superficial right off the bat) 3. You must not be anorexically skinny- I need some cushion for the pushin'.
4. You must not be a crackhead. Or a cokehead. Or an any-head.
5. You can smoke pot, but not every day. Or even every other day. Why? Because I think people who do are boring, generally.
6. You must drink alcohol- not everyday in mass quantities, but enough to not make me look like a lush.
7. You must listen and enjoy other music besides death metal and/or country.
8. You must not bitch about my smoking- gentle prodding is fine though. I need to quit.
9. You can't have long Fabio hair.
10. You can't wear lots of jewelry. (none is preferable)
11. You cannot have an abnormally small peanuckle. (Call me a size queen, I don't care)
12. You must like big boobies. None of that 'perky is better' bullshit.
13. You can't be in a mindless, dead-end job unless you have concrete plans to do something better, and preferably soon.
14. You need to love me for who I am, but help me to be a better person.
15. You need to like to have long rambling discussions about everything and nothing.
16. You cannot watch the Man Show in my presence and hoot at the 'Juggies'.
17. You cannot try to make me jealous on purpose.
18. If we are having sex, you cannot have sex with anyone else, even if we are 'just dating'.
19. No convicted felons, thanks.
20. If you have kissed another man, it better have been A)when you were really drunk and on a dare and B)better not be more than one guy.
21. Following from this, you must not be bisexual. I think it's a perfectly good lifestyle for others, I just can't deal with double the competition.
22. You must have either A)have traveled outside of the US, or B) want to someday. Traveling is just one of my obsessions, so I need that.
23. You must have some form of higher education/training past high school. We all know high school was a joke. A college degree is preferable, but not necessary.
24. You must be over 21 and younger than....30.
25. You must not be overly needy, but be patient with me if/when I act needy.
26. You must read books. Regularly.
27. You must like kids. Not all kids, but kids in general.
28. You must like both cats and dogs. Not just cats, or just dogs, that's annoying.
29. You can't shave your chest, or legs, or arms. Feel free to shave your back.
30. You must call me once in a while, just to talk.
31. You must like my friends, and they must like you. At least, act like you do.
32. I don't care if you have a lot of money. Just don't be stingy.
33. You can't be homophobic, or racist, or sexist, etc. (this might be an obvious one, but who knows)
34. You can't be a hardcore republican or fundamentalist Christian. We would just argue too much, and that's annoying.
35. You can't be overly neat and anal, or I'll worry that you're gay. (a stereotype, I know...just being honest)
36. You have to respect my video game/internet/UT football obsession.
37. You need to understand the importance of foreplay.
38. You must be both nice and an asshole. (I think women know what I mean)


I better stop while I'm ahead...they just keep coming and coming!

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

---

09:48 p.m. Tuesday, December 17, 2002

I don't have many vices beyond caring what other people think, but that's a big one. ~somebody

Lately, I've been much more of an introvert than I usually am. Partly this has been because I've been really busy with school, which has paid off, because I think I'm going to get the highest GPA I've ever had this semester.

But part of it has been my reluctance to meet anyone new, mainly out of fear. Noone who met me would ever think of me as a shy or introverted person. I can be opinionated, brash and loud, especially with a beer in my hand.

In the last few years, however, I've been hurt by both old friends and new. One old friend of ten years completely blanked me out of her life for no reason. Other new friends I realized were hurtful people. I guess that part of me has given up.

Then again, as I've gotten older, I can see who I am more clearly. And I am liking who I am more and more every day. Although there are many times when my self-esteem takes a dive, I generally think I'm pretty fucking cool.

The inner monologue of low self-esteem can take over in social situations, however. The one that whispers incessantly in your ear, "That was dumb, shut up" and "You're weird" and "See that look? She thinks you talk too much". It makes me want to run and hide. In my room, with my little candle burning and my music playing, the voice is silent.

I swear I'm not schizophrenic. I just remember a time when although there was always that little voice of insecurity, it wasn't so loud. I had trust in my friends and that I was likable.

When some of those friends hurt me or let me down, the voice started getting louder. I started to think there was something wrong with me.

I'm getting better. I'm getting better at silencing that voice, being who I am, and not caring what others think. I know it will never go away completely.

But I think that the best way to help this progress of opening myself up to people, is to act as confident as I feel in my head when the voices are softer. Most people are as self-absorbed as I am...my little quirks and thoughts are not as important to others as I'd like to think. Other people have much of the same insecurities that I do. I need to reach out. I need to open up. I think I'll try.

But where the hell do I start?

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

---

10:57 p.m. Monday, December 16, 2002

...you tell her about you relationship with him. You talk and talk, waiting for the cure. After a while, though, it occurs to you that even a perfect understanding of failed love is the booby prize.
You don't see him again. Sometimes you worry that he loved you better than any man ever has or will- even if it had nothing to do with you. Even now, he is every blue blazer getting into a cab, every runner along the river, every motorcycle coming and going.
~the girls' guide to hunting and fishing

I think my ex-boyfriend got married this weekend. I've been wanting to write about it, but I've written novels about our relationship. In my worn journal with the leather cover, scraps of paper tucked into books...poems, letters to him, lyrics to songs I swore were written about me and the way I felt about him.

I met him at 19. I had no experience of any kind of love or relationship before him. He was my first love, my first sex that wasn't drunken or a mistake, my first intensity and passion, my first live-in boyfriend...my first everything.

I spent two and a half years obsessed with him, one year trying to get over him, half a year stringing him along, and one year living with him.

At 24 years old, I got bored. I left him in Germany. I was selfish. I thought he would always be there. He proposed to another girl two months after we broke up.

The night he told me this news, I stayed up all night in a blurry daze trying to figure out what this was all about. I felt angry at him, angry at myself, and I hated that woman who was to be his wife.

About a month ago, I called his number in Austin. I wasn't drunk. I was lonely. I wanted to talk to the boy who had known me, who had told me I was beautiful and the smartest person he had ever met, and that I was a good person. Part of me arrogantly thought that I could get him back. I hung up the phone when she answered.

I immediately felt ashamed. I don't want him anymore. She wants him. He wasn't the one for me. I fell out of love with him, and maybe it was hurtful that I left him alone in Germany, but it was the best thing I could have done. For me, and for him. I hope he's happy now.

While I type those words, I know that they're partly a lie. While part of me wants him to be happy, part of me hopes that every time he hears Ani Difranco or Sarah Maclachlan, he thinks of me. I hope he misses me. I hope he looks twice at every girl who has dark hair and light eyes, both hoping and scared that it could be me. The way I look for him everywhere.

The way I imagine I always will, in small ways.

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

---

12:16 a.m. Saturday, December 14, 2002

Today...I got a new haircut that I really like. She gave me a scalp massage with aromatherapy oils and I drank hot cider with cinnamon sticks. We talked about her cats and how I want a dog but I'm not ready for the commitment yet. She told me my hair was really soft and shiny, and I left her a big tip.

I ate lunch at Texas French Bread. The man in front of me in line got the last New York Times from the machine, so I read the Shot in the Dark ads, looking for someone looking for the girl with the soft and shiny hair. The boy working the counter was cute and nice to me. He asked me how my day was, and I told him it was getting better.

I walked over to the vintage clothing shop next door, where I was told that everything was 30% off. I almost bought a cheerleader outfit, but then I realized that football season was over. I bought old worn soft t-shirts that I can wear with jeans. One of them is a teeball t-shirt with the name 'BARBARA' written on back. I hope people think my name is Barbara when I wear it.

I walked in the mall and looked at all the things I don't want or need. I did buy purple eyeshadow though. I put it on in my rearview mirror when I got back to my car and felt transformed into the girl who can pull off purple eyeshadow.

I came home and found the boy I've been dating online. The one who never called me last night like he had promised to. He said he was sorry. I said I was too. And told him goodbye.

I cried a little to my roommate and watched a movie, Ten Tiny Love Stories. It was okay...I forgot about everything for a while.

I talked to my roommate about the restaurant that she works at. I've decided it is run by the Austin mafia. I'm not joking...the shady shit that goes on in that place. She received a 100 bucks from a guy who works there today, as a 'Christmas present'. She later found out it was probably money he had made off of drugs. She still kept it. The waiters there have to take off their aprons when they go to the bathroom so they won't be able to shoot up in the stalls. The girl who was caught doing it a few months ago still works there.

Now I'm listening to Emiliana Torrini. I'm going to sleep for 10 hours tonight. Tomorrow will be a little better than today.

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

---

11:29 p.m. Thursday, December 12, 2002

Now and again it seems worse than it is, but mostly the view is accurate.

It's been consuming me lately, this loneliness.
Throughout college, I had a lot of friends. My closest friends were a group of about 6 girls. We all met our freshman year and stayed close friends throughout the whole 4 years. We all had various friends on the periphery of our circle, but we were pretty much it. And it was good, and it was enough. And we were lucky.
After graduation, we all went our separate ways. It made sense that the type of friends I would have would not stay still for long. Even though some of them stayed in Austin for a time, eventually most of them left. I went to San Francisco for a month in June, then moved to Krakow, Poland, where I lived for a little over a year.
That experience changed me deeply, in ways I still don't understand. It was one of the hardest and best experiences of my life. I learned that I was stronger than I ever knew, and I learned I could teach and learn from people very different from myself. I traveled alone, met people from places I had never heard of, saw things that I still can picture in my mind when I close my eyes. I was terribly homesick, and incredibly happy to be away from home.
When the customs officer in Philadelphia asked me how long I had been away, I mumbled "thirteen months". It surprised me to hear it out loud. Thirteen months. Thirteen. Thirteen months, and it's like I'm a different person. Of course, I really wasn't. I was the same Claire who had left on this journey, I had just learned more of who this Claire was.
The days after those thirteen months were some of the hardest I've ever had. I had left the US with a feeling that I was doing what I had always wanted to do. I came back to a country and city full of dot-commers who talked about stock options and their SUVs and the houses they were going to buy in Westlake. These people were the same who had graduated with me only a year or so before. I could not relate. They looked at me with blank and/or confused looks when they asked what I did. "Nothing" I said, "I've been living in Poland and traveling for a year."
I had come from a place where there are 600 year old churches on every corner and a horse drawn wagon still drives through the city carrying scrap metal... to this. More, more, more.
Some said "Oh, I've been to Europe. Went for a month last summer. I got really trashed in Barcelona, blahhaha."
Oh. I did too, but that's not what I took home with me.
I got a job, working in a company, at a desk, with a computer, and business cards with my name on them. I was miserable.
I tried to fit in. My old friends had all moved away, except for a couple who helped to keep me somewhat sane. I tried to meet new people, I missed having a busy social life with lots of friends. Living in a foreign country where you can barely speak the language makes you feel like there are infinite possibilities at home.
I had left with many people I felt connected to. I came back to those people living far away from me and not meeting any new people to spend my time with. I saw potential friends' eyes glaze over when I told them where I had lived and what I had done. Very few questions were asked about my experience, and I learned not to talk about it anymore. Don't worry. I'm like you.
I even lived in Germany for about 6 months when I was 24, with my boyfriend who I eventually fell out of love with. I came back to the same problems I had left at home.

I feel as isolated as I did many times while living in Europe, but without the beautiful buildings and museums.
I feel cheated. I was always told that it would be a great thing for me to do what I did- but I feel like it has just made people push away from me.
I push people away now too. It's easier to be alone.
There have been some people I have met since college who I have really felt connected to- but not many.
There have been those I have felt connected to, and then was hurt deeply by.
You don't know me. I am words on a screen, with a few pictures on a webpage.
All I want is to feel part of something yet all I want is to be left alone.
And so, here I am. Waiting for a boy to call me to make me feel like I am part of something, that I am liked. It is 11pm and he is out with his friends- I wasn't invited. I will be invited when he has time for me.

And I don't see that I have any other option other than to write these words on a screen and wait for things to get better.

and you're not really sure what you're doing this for but you need something to fill up the days. ~bright eyes

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

---

08:52 p.m. Wednesday, December 11, 2002

Fast forwarding through her messages hoping to hear from old boyfriends who finally realize the treasure they've thrown away. ~storypeople.com

I remember when I was in college before ('95-'99), very few people had cell phones. In fact, I can't think of one friend who did. The people in my circle of friends only started to get cell phones after we all graduated- perhaps they were too expensive before, I don't remember. Now I look around on campus and everyone has a cell.

My second year of college was the first time my roommates and I got caller id. Setting up the new little box next to our phone was an important event. Every day when any one of us arrived home, we would rush to the caller id box to check whether 'he' had called (or anyone else of lesser importance).

Quickly, I noticed that some of the fun in my life had been taken away. Although I now knew who was calling before I picked up the phone (handy if it was your current obsession, as you could answer in your 'sexy independent voice'), you also knew when he didn't call. There were no more excuses- he obviously wasn't interested. This little box also caused other unforeseen problems- once you got caller id, you quickly realized that others probably had it too. Gone were the days when you could call just to hear that boy's voice on his answering machine. Now, if you called, you had to leave a message on his machine because he would know. And you could only call once and hope for the best.

Of course, you also could easily find out who was stalking you. Your roommates would laugh with you at that boy who would call and call, who couldn't take the hint. This laughter was bittersweet, though- we all had been that one with the crush who couldn't seem to give up, and we knew we would be again.

I now don't have caller id- I would probably not even have an answering machine on my home phone if my roommate hadn't set it up. Everyone knows my cell phone number- I actually only use my home phone when I'm out of cell phone minutes. My cell goes with me everywhere, warm and secure in my pocket. The melody it plays when it goes off (currently 'Fur Elise') gives me a certain thrill- someone wants to talk to me. I am liked.

Yet while it's comforting to know that I can be reached and reach anyone practically anywhere and anytime, there also comes with it the same problems I had with my caller id box. Those days or nights when noone calls, when I check my cell to make sure I didn't accidentally shut it off. If a call means 'I am liked', then no calls must mean 'Noone likes me'.

Do I really gauge my self-worth on phone calls? No. I just think that some of the mystery and anticipation is gone. But there's no turning back- I'll never give up my cell. If I did, how could anyone reach me?

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

---

02:34 p.m. Wednesday, December 11, 2002

I normally hate studying in libraries, but here I am. My university actually has some nice libraries- I heard somewhere it has one of the biggest library systems in the US with about 25 on campus. My favorite would have to be the architecture library. It has beautiful oak desks with little lights that help you feel smart and studious. I also like the life sciences library- but there are quotes painted all over the ceiling that distract me because I'd rather read them than study.

Right now, I'm having some difficulty concentrating on studying for my final because of this damn wireless internet that is everywhere on this campus. It's nice to have, but one of the reasons I came to this library is to get away from my computer at home. A perk is I get to listen to classical music on internet radio while I'm studying.

While looking for a parking space in the parking garage, as I was turning a corner a girl getting out of her car pointed out to me a hidden spot. She saved me a lot of time and it really cheered me up that someone would do something nice like that for no reason other than to help someone out. It doesn't take much to make me happy, I guess.

When I finish this final tonight, I will be done with the semester. I am so looking forward to that feeling of relief.

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

---

09:15 p.m. Tuesday, December 10, 2002

Answers to some questions about who I am, and why I'm here.

Is this your first blog/journal? No, I started out at livejournal. I happened upon it in April and got hooked on online journaling. I've met some really cool people, and some real assholes. I still have my livejournal, but wanted a fresh start. So here I am.

What's the story behind your name? 'flux de bouche' means 'talkative' in French. I thought it was fitting, and I've always thought French was a pretty language, even though I don't really speak it.

Did you design your site yourself? No, if you look, there's a link that credits Miz Graphics. I'm not skilled enough to design my own yet.

Why do you like journaling? I think it's partly the writing aspect- I never realized how therapeutic it can be before I started. It's also the connection with people that can develop...I get the greatest comfort from others telling me 'Me too.' It makes me feel not so alone in my neuroses, I guess.

Do you delete/modify your posts? Well, there have been times I have. I used to worry more about what people thought of my journal. I've gotten better at not caring and realizing that people are going to judge me no matter what I write. It's human nature. I do modify a post if I notice a typo, though.

How much is your weblog a part of your personal identity? Do you feel like people who don't know about your blog don't really know you? Most of my friends IRL don't read my blog...many don't even know about it. The ones that do think it's kind of strange. So I don't think it's a huge part of my identity. It's probably more of a form of entertainment for me. Of course, the friends I've met through my journal understand my interest.

Have you ever met anyone in person through your journal? Yes, several people. I've even dated someone who I met through my journal...that ended disastrously though.

Let's see...that looks to be about it for now. I should probably go study now.

All I want for Christmas is Clix... oh, and world peace.

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