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G_Elph
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Name: Cara
Country: United States
Birthday: 8/3/1986
Gender: Female
Interests: Umm... writing. Reading (especially Fantasy, Sci-fi, and the classics. Yay Les Mis!).Talking online. Certain movies (Blues Brothers! yay!). Certain TV shows (M*A*S*H*, Hogans Heroes, Monte Pythons Flying Circus). Playing video games. Collecting quotes and weird trivia. (Yes, I'm a geek. So sue me. At least I don't watch Star Trek or read comic books... I haven't yet fallen into the pit). Philosophy. Arguing... er... debating. Random sarcasm or cynicism. Obsessing (maybe I don't ENJOY it, but I do it enough for it to count.) Staring off into space.
Expertise: Making a fool out of myself (because it's SO much FUN!).
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
10/26/2003
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| If I drove, and had a car, and had enough extra money lying around -- I would totally drive to Michigan this weekend to go to a concert. To see a band I saw a little over a month ago. Twice. *sigh*
Also, the Decemberists, next month, something like fifteen minutes away from my house in Columbus. Why couldn't they come last month? 
Ah well, maybe next year...
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| Once upon a time I wrote on this thing (I doubt anyone really misses those days, but then, I get a strange kick out of doubting random things and pretending to be diffident, so...). It comes down to a combination of a) not having anything to talk about, in any real sense and b) writing way too many essays for my english classes. Ah well.
Anyways, if anyone was actually hoping for an update on what's going on in the life of Cara... they're not actually going to get it. Nothing particularly exciting has happened recently, which is just the way I like it. You can read a few random poems though, if you like. If not... well, don't, I guess. I'm trying to decide whether I like them or not...
To the Victorian Poets
I cannot love you.
I want to, just as I want to
love the shaggy blond boy reading
love poetry in front of me, as much
for his cocky-shy bucktooth smile and
collar carefully tucked in on only one
side
as anything, but I
have stood shaking behind that
podium and cannot
love anything like. And I
want to tell you: People
die. And: tension is always
with us. And: every poet lies. And:
I can only lust after what
I do not know. ***
They call this the language of art.
One: line (contour
actual implied). The
road, the space
between monday night
and tuesday morning, the
curve of the blanket under your hand.
Two: shape. The square of
your smile, the order
of the days, the guise
we wear.
Three: volume. The displacement of the
air as you move, the sound of your voice
and
the door shutting.
Four: mass. The arc of my stomach
in the mirror, the
confession of my sins, the
force of the blow
divided
by your acceleration.
Five: value. The shade under
the evergreens, a twenty
dollar bill, the balance of
the scales, my sense of self
worth, the sermons
of a concerned parent.
Six: color. The yellow
hair in the shower drain, the pink
of my lips, the blend of
one feeling into
another.
Seven: texture. The sandpaper
grating of
the soul, the brush
of your arm against mine.
***
And, finally, this one is an experiment, taking different pieces from random poetry generators and putting them together in new ways. It's kind of a fun exercise.
(untitled)
There is
held in the long sonata
of
God the difference
between the counter, whispers, and the
fume of dead things, and also
some cigarettes-- a tan
and black and
often picturesque liar. The
grace before the difference between a
Big Mac,
fries, and a nature that is
tiny, and yellow.
The earth.
The band, and loving. The best is
that which Eve
took; that is in her teeth.
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| My Baldwin dining experience tonight:
1. Spilled a tray of food all over the floor/myself
2. Knocked a glass of water over. All over myself.
3. Had a guy fling butter all over me while I was waiting for my waffle to cook. Repeatedly.
4. Pulled the waffle out of the waffle maker, found out it was covered in black oozy goo stuff. Dripped black oozy goo stuff all over me.
5. Made another waffle, went to put powdered sugar on it, had powdered sugar container explode. All over me.
That was fun. 
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| It's been awhile since the last time I wrote on xanga, mostly 'cause my life has been entirely uneventful (for which I am profoundly grateful. Boring is the new exciting, as far as I'm concerned). Survived finals/portfolio time, without changing my gpa any. Even pulled of an A in contemporary lit, which was my Christmas miracle. Break consisted of playing video games with my little brother, sleeping, hanging out with Kirstin and Jen, and visiting family. I have a new little cousin, the first of the next generation, and she's adorable. Anna came and visited; we went and saw the field of cement corn and the giant dancing trash bunnies of doom. Got the complete Monty Pythons Flying Circus on dvd for christmas, and Katie and I finished watching the last disc last night, which was both exciting and depressing at the same time. My life so far this semester: sleeping, working at the writing center, watching stuff with Katie while she paints, working out, reading Tennyson (bleych), writing papers, conjugating latin verbs and declining nouns, and editing my thesis project. Oh, and apparently I'm reading some poems at this literary conference thing next month. I have nothing profound to say, except that certain amounts of apathy can be nice for awhile.
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| So I was eating dinner with some of my fellow tutors last night, and one of them told me a funny thing: my semester long research paper project thing for my lit class is due tomorrow, not next week like I had thought all semester. Guess how much I had done of it? If you guessed exactly 0%, you would be correct. Not even a sentence of research. So what did I do last night? Well, I went to Walmart and Christmas shopped, but if you guessed "didn't work on my research paper," you can have points for that too. Fun story, huh? 
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