Digressions of a Wannabe Genius

In which Claudia leaves her chair.  Isn’t it exciting?  And you thought it would never happen.  She also reads a note and removes her shoes.  Fascinating.  I know after that description I would be forced to read about her…even though in the last chapter we learned she wasn’t beautiful.  Perhaps we will forgive such a fault since she has left the chair and may do something interesting.

In which Claudia throws a temper tantrum and desires a drink of water.  My descriptions of the chapters are so in-depth and vivid that you must read them.  You are just so curious.

Here we meet the main character in Deprivation.  She is sitting in a chair. That is all she does.  She sits in a chair and thinks.  The interesting part really is where her chair happens to be and what she is thinking.  And of course that she is pretty.  Who wants to read about ugly people?  Half the time we feel ugly ourselves and would like to put ourselves in the place of pretty people. The other half we feel pretty and don’t want to be brought down by ugly people. Or maybe that’s just me.  I believe I’ve stated that I’m not a good person before.

I don’t know how to excuse myself.  I think in general that is what people mean when they ask you to explain who you are.  You are making excuses for how fucked up/not fucked up you are.  Well I know I’m fucked but no more and no less than most of you.

I had a messed up childhood, just like everyone else in the world.  Childhood is inherently messed up and I don’t know how people come through it.  My mother is wonderfully and amazingly strange, proved by the fact I was conceived and born on a commune in Missouri.  My father is a woman, which happened when I was thirteen.  My brother is obsessed with boxing, chess and poetry- which to most of the world don’t seem like related topics.  My wonderful amazing boyfriend (who did this whole page for me) despises all women and yet loves me (though as far as I can tell I am also a female)

And me? I work by day as a fun and confusing sort of administrative assistant.  I write novels that have led people to ask if either of my parents raped me as a child (they didn’t.)  I have been told I’m boring.  Which was the most insulting thing I’ve ever been told and I’ve never quite recovered.  I’ve also been called a freak, a yuppie, a secretary, artist, an intellectual and a nerd.  People like to say I’m beautiful but I think they are only trying to get in my pants…and for the most part they are.  That and the people who love me and love clouds people’s judgment.

But I have no excuses for myself. I’m not a great person.  I’m not a dream girlfriend, or a dream daughter.  I’m not an ideal friend (I don’t like to call or e-mail people…I mostly like them to chase me.)  I like to think, though, that I am not a bad person.  That the people who love me do so because there are lovable things about me and not because they have a streak of bad judgment.  I am who I am. I wish I was something better but I’m not and I try to be over that.