Dear College,
I have recently become aware of your complete and bitter indifference to my work and my education. As a kid from a small town with an even smaller bank account and short last name, it is obvious that I have nothing to offer you. In 10 years I will not have enough money to donate to you and I will not be wanting or expecting any kind of alumni honor. All I want is a good old fashioned hard earned college education. That I can afford.
And why shouldn't I be able to afford it? Because my parents are divorced and my family doesn't have enough cash? Might I direct your attention to my GPA and transcripts. Might I remind you of the amount of hours I spent in your library. And might I call to attention to the number of students who are living off check after check from their papas fancy pens and who spend the majority of that money on cocaine and vodka to get through all your classes.
College, you set freshmen up so nicely and you pump them so full of false hope it's sickening. And why? So that you can prepare an impressive demographic in your incoming freshman class and get a good rating in the next issue of College Scene Magazine. Well I do not feel indebted to your school and I do not feel that I owe you any more of my hard earned and self earned money or brain power.
So peace out expensive and prestigious university. I'm over you.
Not so sincerely,
Claire M. Miller
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Seafair Triathlon: a view into the women of my family
Today my three sisters and my mom and i completed the Seafair Triathlon. If you've been looking at my fratured blogs you'd know Leah had been planning this for some time to prepare for the wedding and what not. If not, that's what it was...
Anyway, this morning at 5:00 two rrom calls and an annoying phone alarm woke my mother, little sister and I up and got us rolling. It was the day of the big event. I split the tri with mom and maggie: i swam, maggie biked and my mom ran. We all finished with some struggle, some ease, a lot of pride and more fun. Leah, being the gifted athlete she is, did the whole thing solo and finished with a beautiful anf graceful sprint across the finish line. Mary did the kids Tri with almost NO training and did it magnificently.
The best part of the whole day was knowing that we had all sone it. We had finsihed, whether in teams or in an individual event, we had finished. all of us. And even those who did it solo did it with loud and outrageous cheers resonating from the sidelines. Right when I got out of the water Leah was yelling and cheering me on to run to maggie to start her off on the bike. When maggie came back she was met with huge hugs and a thumbs up as my mom set out with her cassette player for the three mile run. We all cheered each other on and there was no way any of us could have done as well as we did if it werent for the people we had cheering for us.
I guess I complain about my family a lot. About the trouble and the pain the whole thing has caused but at the end of the day theres nothing like having family to cheer you out of the water and into the sun.
much love
Anyway, this morning at 5:00 two rrom calls and an annoying phone alarm woke my mother, little sister and I up and got us rolling. It was the day of the big event. I split the tri with mom and maggie: i swam, maggie biked and my mom ran. We all finished with some struggle, some ease, a lot of pride and more fun. Leah, being the gifted athlete she is, did the whole thing solo and finished with a beautiful anf graceful sprint across the finish line. Mary did the kids Tri with almost NO training and did it magnificently.
The best part of the whole day was knowing that we had all sone it. We had finsihed, whether in teams or in an individual event, we had finished. all of us. And even those who did it solo did it with loud and outrageous cheers resonating from the sidelines. Right when I got out of the water Leah was yelling and cheering me on to run to maggie to start her off on the bike. When maggie came back she was met with huge hugs and a thumbs up as my mom set out with her cassette player for the three mile run. We all cheered each other on and there was no way any of us could have done as well as we did if it werent for the people we had cheering for us.
I guess I complain about my family a lot. About the trouble and the pain the whole thing has caused but at the end of the day theres nothing like having family to cheer you out of the water and into the sun.
much love
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
How I got here
As most of you know I'm working ina bakery this summer in Yakima. It's cute and quaint and French and fattening. We do special orders for weddings and birthdays and the like and the other day the baker was working extra frantically and as i began to tune in to the whispering circulating around the kitchen I learned a name that represents everything pink and fluffly and snobby to the bakery. Maggie was her name and each year she insisted on a cake from Essencia. This year she was turning 11 and she wanted pink pearls to top her Bavarian Cream Cake. The cake was $75 and Maggie wanted to see it before her mother bought it to approve. Seeing little Maggie walk into the bakery with all 11 years of arrogance making me feel quite inadequate made me think if where she would be when she was 19. Then i thought back to my childhood and the homemade cakes that accompanied my birthdays.
Later as I was washign the dishes in the back and thinking about finding the money for college I thought of Maggie and how she might not have to work two jobs to put herself through school. Or maybe she will. I'll try not to judge. As I washed the dishes I began to cratively put into words the jouney that had brought me to the place I had found myself in. This is roughly what I came up with.
The journey has been long
My feet ache from the miles travelled and
my shoulders hurt from the loads carried.
Yet here I am, my trail has led me here
exhausted, aching and smiling.
Addrenaline has been fueling my journey for some time now
energy found deep within pushing me along this path that has no end
and I come from a deep appreciation for it all.
I come from blonde curls and a red "babing" suit.
I have travelled woth companions of blood
together mowing lawns and sledding hills.
I come from the all too famous "lost childhood"
that is becoming less and less tragic.
I come from Irish tales and an old wood rocking chair.
I have walked miles in uncomfortable middle school shoes.
I have arrived from self-loathing and bitter early teen years.
I am here with nothing but a past of laughter of selfishness of family of mistake and of learned humility.
Finally I have arrived from a high school sweetheart and a perfect 4 years of loss love and friendship.
I have travelled states and learned philosophies and now I am here.
I have travelled miles to be here
I have walked miles in solitude and miles in good company,
But I have walked.
And now today soar feet hold my young body up and the same soar feet will carry me into the future walking and walking and learning all the way.
Later as I was washign the dishes in the back and thinking about finding the money for college I thought of Maggie and how she might not have to work two jobs to put herself through school. Or maybe she will. I'll try not to judge. As I washed the dishes I began to cratively put into words the jouney that had brought me to the place I had found myself in. This is roughly what I came up with.
The journey has been long
My feet ache from the miles travelled and
my shoulders hurt from the loads carried.
Yet here I am, my trail has led me here
exhausted, aching and smiling.
Addrenaline has been fueling my journey for some time now
energy found deep within pushing me along this path that has no end
and I come from a deep appreciation for it all.
I come from blonde curls and a red "babing" suit.
I have travelled woth companions of blood
together mowing lawns and sledding hills.
I come from the all too famous "lost childhood"
that is becoming less and less tragic.
I come from Irish tales and an old wood rocking chair.
I have walked miles in uncomfortable middle school shoes.
I have arrived from self-loathing and bitter early teen years.
I am here with nothing but a past of laughter of selfishness of family of mistake and of learned humility.
Finally I have arrived from a high school sweetheart and a perfect 4 years of loss love and friendship.
I have travelled states and learned philosophies and now I am here.
I have travelled miles to be here
I have walked miles in solitude and miles in good company,
But I have walked.
And now today soar feet hold my young body up and the same soar feet will carry me into the future walking and walking and learning all the way.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Other Things
While I was at school I kept finding myself wanted to do other things than the ones I was involved in. Except for rugby I wanted to be home, I didn't like my job, school was stressful and I missed my family. Now that I'm home I find myself just wanting to be back in the city. I'm so bitter about so many things and I'm not sure why. A big part of my life was happiness with what I had at the moment and the things I had, however small, to enjoy. I always made it a point to accept, appreciate, love, and fulfill the life I have and everything that happens in that life. I always told myself that if I didn't enjoy what I was doing I would never be happy. I've been unhappy and bitter for a long time and no matter what I do i can't shake it. I keep wanting and wishing for somehting else and I feel like it's going to lead to a lifestyle of pecimism and bitterness and those are the last things I want. Those are the last things I want in my life and the last things I want to describe myself as. There are so many wonderful things, people, places and experiences happening in my life and I'm blogging about being unhappy. I hate blogging and it's become the the way I describe myself. THAT's why i hate myself! I've become one of THOSE people. Thanks blogspot, thanks to you I've figured out all my problems. You're my best friend. Love Claire
much love
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Karls, shower flops, and all of freshman year
I moved out today. I packed up shop in good ol 714 and am on my way out of SF. I'm also crying. Today ended my first year of college. Freshman year went by faster than anything I've ever experienced and it's absolutely sureal. I left behind a dirty dorm room, a great view, quite the sleeping arangement, an empty closet and an incredible room mate.
The one thing I was the most scared about when I was getting ready to leave for school was my roommate. Who she would be, how she would act, if she would judge me, and would we be able to get along and relate to one another. After a couple NOVEL emails and random phone calls, I slowly began to get to know my room mate. She had played basketball, was the girl who did everything, and was also a workaholic. She had quite the family history and an even better sense of humor. In short, she was me with diet coke instead of chocolate milk, The View instead of the Office, and designer jeans instead of a longboard. She was unlike anything I had ever seen, and I know I'm only feeding the fire of confidence that rages inside of her.
As we began to get to know eachother, we became more than good friends. We had only lived together a couple months and already we were more comfortable around each other than people who had known each other for years. She didn't care about my mess, in fact hers was usually bigger. She didn't care about my bad jokes, her stories were longer and much more random. Lastly, she didn't judge me.
Really, theres nothing else I can say. She was the best thing that could have happened to me freshman year on so many levels. It's so hard to leave her behind and know that even though I'm sure we'll keep in touch, we may never wake up in the same bed, share shower flops, buy each other diet cokes, facebook stalk together, actually stalk together, or share the memories we made this year again. And that hurts.
I didn't think I would cry when I left. But Karls was somethign else.
So long SF, I'll see you soon.
Karls, love you baby. Make it a blast, you always do.
much love
The one thing I was the most scared about when I was getting ready to leave for school was my roommate. Who she would be, how she would act, if she would judge me, and would we be able to get along and relate to one another. After a couple NOVEL emails and random phone calls, I slowly began to get to know my room mate. She had played basketball, was the girl who did everything, and was also a workaholic. She had quite the family history and an even better sense of humor. In short, she was me with diet coke instead of chocolate milk, The View instead of the Office, and designer jeans instead of a longboard. She was unlike anything I had ever seen, and I know I'm only feeding the fire of confidence that rages inside of her.
As we began to get to know eachother, we became more than good friends. We had only lived together a couple months and already we were more comfortable around each other than people who had known each other for years. She didn't care about my mess, in fact hers was usually bigger. She didn't care about my bad jokes, her stories were longer and much more random. Lastly, she didn't judge me.
Really, theres nothing else I can say. She was the best thing that could have happened to me freshman year on so many levels. It's so hard to leave her behind and know that even though I'm sure we'll keep in touch, we may never wake up in the same bed, share shower flops, buy each other diet cokes, facebook stalk together, actually stalk together, or share the memories we made this year again. And that hurts.
I didn't think I would cry when I left. But Karls was somethign else.
So long SF, I'll see you soon.
Karls, love you baby. Make it a blast, you always do.
much love
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Ahhhh the strep...how I've missed thee
So yesterday (monday) I woke up with a soar throat. No biggie I thought, I was stressed from finals, was working out a lot to train for Leah's triathlon and wasn't getting a lot of sleep. So it was all to be expected. I went through the day feeling rather crappy, just in a general state of crapiness. Then I went to my drawing class that goes from 7-10. Around 8:30 it hits me.
When I was younger I used to get strep throat allllllll the. When I was a baby it was ear infections...but as I grew older, for some reason my body loooooved the strep throat slash hated it with every fiber of it's being. A big chuck of my childhood memories are waking up in the middle of the night with all the tell tale signs that strep was in and ready to reek havoc. My dad would take me to the ER, greet the nurses with a familiar hello, and get me a popsicle. Of course my temperature would be soaring, sweat would be dripping and I would be freezing. One throat swab later I was curled up in the front seat of my dad's car with a hefty portion of penicillin and another popsicle. Thus was beginning of my age old battle with strep throat.
I have only been really sick once since I've been here and as I've grown older my strep pattern has slowed to about once a year. Well in drawing, my time had come. Within 10 minutes I had a fever, chills that could shake the building and aches and pains like no other. 10:00 finally rolled around and I called my dad only to hear the same old "get to the hospital and get some meds...now" So I did.
Of course the ER, which was the only thing open, has a priority policy. I understand. And of course, they guarantee a nurse will see you within 30 minutes so you think they're speedy quick. Then you get to wait for ANOTHER three hours until the doctor gets around to seeing you. The nurses were not friendly, and the doctor really didn't seem to care. He woke me up from the hour long nap I was taking waiting for him, felt my throat, talked really fast, and only another hour later I got a prescription for Tylenol codeine and penicillin. With a fever of 102 they offered public safety to drive my miserable self back to my dorm where I climbed into bed shaking and chilled to endure the long night of hallucinogenic dreams and severe changes of boy temperature.
This morning I woke up to an even bigger headache and the knowledge that I had to walk to lucky's to get the meds. Peeling myself out of bed in a pool of sweat I clothed myself to the max and made the miserable trek to the store. When I got there I out the order in and went to collect all the necessary items I knew would aid in my recovery: popsicles, orange juice, and gatorade. As I was more or less stumbling down the aisles i began to feel...queezy. I didn't usually throw up when I had strep, so I didn't really know how to handle the feeling. So i began to mozy toward the bathroom in case something were to erupt from deep within me. I began to walk faster. It was coming and i was almost there.......missed it. As i turned my head toward the nearest garbage can I could find, I vomited. And not before I reached the can. So here I was, in the middle of the local grocery store throwing up what little there was in my belly. With much embarrassment I cleaned up what I had left on the floor and added one more thing to my list: 7-up.
And so here I am. In the heat of finals and miserably ill. I don't even want to think about the catch up I'll have to play to get back in shape for the triathlon. Oh, well, for now it's just popsicles and orange juice.
much love
When I was younger I used to get strep throat allllllll the. When I was a baby it was ear infections...but as I grew older, for some reason my body loooooved the strep throat slash hated it with every fiber of it's being. A big chuck of my childhood memories are waking up in the middle of the night with all the tell tale signs that strep was in and ready to reek havoc. My dad would take me to the ER, greet the nurses with a familiar hello, and get me a popsicle. Of course my temperature would be soaring, sweat would be dripping and I would be freezing. One throat swab later I was curled up in the front seat of my dad's car with a hefty portion of penicillin and another popsicle. Thus was beginning of my age old battle with strep throat.
I have only been really sick once since I've been here and as I've grown older my strep pattern has slowed to about once a year. Well in drawing, my time had come. Within 10 minutes I had a fever, chills that could shake the building and aches and pains like no other. 10:00 finally rolled around and I called my dad only to hear the same old "get to the hospital and get some meds...now" So I did.
Of course the ER, which was the only thing open, has a priority policy. I understand. And of course, they guarantee a nurse will see you within 30 minutes so you think they're speedy quick. Then you get to wait for ANOTHER three hours until the doctor gets around to seeing you. The nurses were not friendly, and the doctor really didn't seem to care. He woke me up from the hour long nap I was taking waiting for him, felt my throat, talked really fast, and only another hour later I got a prescription for Tylenol codeine and penicillin. With a fever of 102 they offered public safety to drive my miserable self back to my dorm where I climbed into bed shaking and chilled to endure the long night of hallucinogenic dreams and severe changes of boy temperature.
This morning I woke up to an even bigger headache and the knowledge that I had to walk to lucky's to get the meds. Peeling myself out of bed in a pool of sweat I clothed myself to the max and made the miserable trek to the store. When I got there I out the order in and went to collect all the necessary items I knew would aid in my recovery: popsicles, orange juice, and gatorade. As I was more or less stumbling down the aisles i began to feel...queezy. I didn't usually throw up when I had strep, so I didn't really know how to handle the feeling. So i began to mozy toward the bathroom in case something were to erupt from deep within me. I began to walk faster. It was coming and i was almost there.......missed it. As i turned my head toward the nearest garbage can I could find, I vomited. And not before I reached the can. So here I was, in the middle of the local grocery store throwing up what little there was in my belly. With much embarrassment I cleaned up what I had left on the floor and added one more thing to my list: 7-up.
And so here I am. In the heat of finals and miserably ill. I don't even want to think about the catch up I'll have to play to get back in shape for the triathlon. Oh, well, for now it's just popsicles and orange juice.
much love
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
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