And now for desert....

When I walked into class on that first day, I sat down nervously and read the chalkboard: “I am me: writing about women’s autobiography”. Oh great, I thought. I am going to be stuck in a class with a bunch of feminist lunatics. Obviously, this was not the case. And then it began… my discoveries…
So if I am me writing about women’s autobiography, why have I felt so detached from everything I have written this semester? Well, not alllll my papers… I guess when I look back, I can find maybe one that reveals something about me… I am my imagination. Regina Spektor and I have this in common. It’s funny because now that I think about it, my college essay was about my wide ranging imagination and how it will help me succeed in life. When I was writing about Regina Spektor I thought a lot about myself. She came up with the strangest things- just like I have been doing all my life! When I would say certain things, I would find my friends asking me, “why am I even friends with you??” That is to say, you are such a freak, how could I be associated with you? This does nothing to offend my self-esteem. It just reminds me of the fact that I am unique… and well, weird. But, it really did not take my experience in this UW class to learn that. In relation to preparing me to write at the college level, the most important thing that this UW class taught me is that writing is a process. This was something very unfamiliar to me before, as I would spend countless sleepless nights scurrying to write a paper the night before it was due. Not that they would turn out poorly or anything, but they just didn’t leave room for me to thoroughly analyze the content and structure of the paper to make it as close to perfect as possible. After this class, I feel so much more confident with my writing. I mean in high school, it’s not the same. You can write a mediocre paper and still pull off a B+, or sometimes even an A. Now, this is the real deal. You can work your butt off for a paper and still get a C+! This was what happened to me on my first paper. I felt so discouraged. As each paper went by though, I slowly went up the grade scale and was able to achieve my first A- in the class in my research paper. I almost cried of joy. I could not believe my eyes when I read the grade on that little analysis that Dr. Smith always gave us with each of our papers. I finally felt that all my hard work had paid off. In addition, I feel more convinced that I might actually be writing at a college level. Overall, my experience in this class was enjoyable and helpful for my future career as a writer. Although I struggled a lot at first, I ended up gaining a better sense of that process that is writing by the end of this class.
And now is when I realized… this class was the journey to find myself (as a writer), and maybe even a few writing tips on the way.

Enough with the food motif!

So honestly.. a book about cooking did not interest me at all. Although I love everything about food (as you could probably tell by my other blog entries) I cannot stand being in the kitchen cooking something. It is just not me. Anyway, I began to read Julie & Julia and was actually very impressed with Julie Powell's writing style. Even though the content did not really engage me at first, the sarcastic and witty comments really got me into the book. I even wrote a "haha" on one of the pages so I guess I could remember specifically why I thought the book was humorous. It was in the beginning of the book. Julie's mother had come to stay with her and she explained how noisy it had been trying to sleep in a New York "loft". She explains her mother's frustrations in trying to sleep when a truck was "beeping loudly" at five o'clock in the morning "presumably so that none of the bustling pedestrians overflowing the sidewalks of Long Island City at five a.m. would dart out in the middle of the street and get hit by a slow moving two-hundred-foot crane" (50). I actually think I laughed out loud. On another note, I was a bit disappointed by the book. Okay, it is called “Julie & JULIA”. Where was the connection there? Did I just totally miss that? I did think that it was cool, though, how Julia Child’s last diary entry kind of began at the start of her cooking career. It was kind of like Julie’s ending, started with Julia’s beginning (even though in real life it was the other way around- Julia influenced Julie). Powell had an interesting idea there; I just wish she would have gotten more personal with Julia in the diary entries, instead of confuse her audience with Paul’s letters or entries (whatever they were?). Nonetheless, I guess the book did end up impressing me in the end. Although the ending (well, the double ending), is a bit weak, I feel as though it may have been the only way she could have ended such a book. The end. OH, and sometimes second endings are just annoying.

Crispy, cripsy Benjamin Franklin....

Regina Spektor. What a unique woman. In my research paper, I would like to explore this uniqueness and take a different approach to autobiography. Doing some research I found this: "She has also stated that she never aspired to write songs herself, but songs seem to just flow to her.[9] Spektor's songs are not usually autobiographical, but rather are based on scenarios and characters drawn from her imagination" (wikipedia). Then it clicked. Can imagination be a form of autobiography? I think with much research, I could prove this idea through the life of Regina Spektor. I would basically like to see how imagination can tell a story about her life through her music. I'm also thinking about researching related topics like women and music, autobiography and music to see if I find any connections. This is all I have so far...

Vicious Cycle

When I was just a baby learning to talk, my parents taught me how to speak in Spanish. So, every word I said up until I was about four years old was in Spanish. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage. I was born and raised in Florida, where, obviously, everyone speaks in English. I started school and had to immediately learn, on top of my shapes, numbers, and colors, how to speak in English. Ever since then, English has been the language that I feel the most comfortable speaking and writing in. Aunque el espanol me sale algunas veces, el ingles es mi lengua principal. It turned out well in the end though because I am bilingual and can speak two very important languages fluently. Still though, I will definitely ALWAYS prefer speaking in English over Spanish. I guess you could say I find a home in it. Even when I am speaking Spanish, I sometimes turn back to English for certain words because I cannot find the right way to express myself in Spanish. I think everyone can agree that they feel the most comfortable speaking in the language they know best. Eva Hoffman states this bold and clear in a quote from Lost in Translation, “we want to be at home in our tongue.” In it, she relates her struggles in finding “a home” in two distinct languages that she grew up speaking. She moved from Poland to Canada when she was about fourteen years old, and had to undergo some serious culture changes. She felt lost, confused, and out of place. In one part, she compares the extreme culture change to skipping rope in jumping from one continent to another. How is she expected to just switch from a Polish to an American lifestyle overnight and know exactly what to do? This is scary… and can be embarrassing. The poor girl did not even shave her armpits! I cannot imagine how humiliating that must’ve been for her… See, the differences among cultures lie in what they view as acceptable and unacceptable. The phrase “you’re welcome” is accepted as a polite way to respond to “thank you” for Americans, but for the Polish this would be completely unacceptable and rude. But this isn’t even the worst part… the fact that she cannot choose which language she feels more comfortable speaking in drives her completely insane! This makes her doubt her own identity… Can she really know who she is if she does not feel at home in a certain language? Or does language really determine who you are? These are some questions that I think she implicitly states throughout the text. I would feel so constricted if I did not have a principal language. I could not express myself in the way I do when I write these blogs. It is a very frustrating experience, especially for her since she states how important it is for her to speak well and not make mistakes. In the end, she describes a cycle of frustration and rage when one cannot express their feelings with words. Words are essentially a form of ventilation and therapy. Without being able to use the right words to express feelings, the frustration just turns back inward and builds into a violent rage.

Break me off a piece of that...

Food... FOOD. FOOOD!! When said out loud, this four-letter word can cause people’s eyes to widen in excitement, or it could cause them to cringe in terror and run for their lives. Whichever way you may react, I think deep down everyone could agree that food is good. In some way, our lives revolve around it. Whether we spend all of our time running away from it, or indulging in it, food is always on our minds. SO, here’s the thing… I read a blog titled “My Black Dress”. What is the relationship between this black satin dress and food, you ask? Let’s use some mathematics to understand this…

When you eat too much food:

Hips and butt > Black satin dress

(hips and butt are greater than black satin dress and THEREFORE could never fit into the dress)

A simple solution to this problem would be to just get a bigger size. But then we run into another traumatic problem: actually having to buy a bigger size. Most girls are not necessarily happy when they realize that they must go up a size. It is essentially the reason why girls might start to eat less, or cease to eat at all. The blog I read though was about a woman who just couldn’t bring herself to eat less, or to stop when it got too far. She would eat until she felt sick! Whenever she got home late from a long tiresome day (like most of us do), all she could do to make herself feel better was eat, eat, and eat. It was pretty interesting; I think a lot of girls suffer from this same problem. Eating to take away the pain. Whenever we are bitter or irritated, a homemade batch of cookies is all we want in front of us. And when we break up with a boyfriend, bring on the pint of ice cream… This only becomes worse when these treats become late night habits. That is blogger “Buttercup’s” problem. She “munches” on anything and everything late at night when she wants to relax from a stressful day. But later, she complains how she cannot fit into her black satin dress. I guess this is why I chose to read this blog. I am sure everyone here has heard about the Freshman 15. Okay, my roommates and I are having some trouble with this… It scares us to death, but there is nothing that can stop us from having those delicious midnight snacks. Our pants haven’t become tight just yet (knock on wood) but we have definitely packed on some meat in these past couple months. I mean, I sit here right now while writing this blog eating a Kit-Kat bar, depressed that the weekend is over and I actually have to do homework. I am now staring at the half-eaten bar realizing that I just proved my point. So isn’t that what I wanted? To prove my point? If proving my point in this blog means gaining another 220 calories, then this is just not fair. I want to fit into my black dress too! It is all about this inner struggle that the blogger discusses, do I want to enjoy this cookie or be confident with what I’m wearing? Of course neither of these can be sacrificed, food nor self image, but we have to find a balance. So, I will leave the second half of my Kit-Kat bar, and just stare at it. I'm staring... and staring... oh, and it just disappeared. Guess this is going to be harder than I thought.

(Insert movie quote here)

Greetings... I am Caro. C-A-R-O. To most people here, that name seems to be nearly impossible to pronounce. But not where I'm from. Everyone is named Caro in Miami. In my highschool, someone would yell the name Caro in the halls, and at least six girls would turn around and respond! And let me tell you, it is very embarrassing to turn around and have the person point out "oh no, the OTHER Caro." I tried changing my name, but "Princess Consuela" just never stuck (and for those "Friends" fanatics, that is what Phoebe tries changing her name to). Moving along (hey- title to one of my favorite bands' songs, the All American Rejects), let me tell you a little about my life before you judge...
I am "that child" in the house. The problem starter, the complainer, and also, the oldest. I have two younger sisters who are sixteen and thirteen and a younger brother who is seven. Although I am fairly close to my sisters, I have to say that my younger brother, Frankie, is my best friend. He is funny, and a bit weird- just like me. My parents are Cuban and Venezuelan so naturally, I speak spanish fluently and surround myself with exceptionally loud people. As for the rest of my family, I am very close to my extended family and consider even my third and fourth cousins to be older silblings. You wouldn't believe how loud it is being in a room with all these people at the same time! But I have survived our Sunday "Family Days".
One of my biggest passions in life is dancing. I am a dancer and have been since the age of three. I danced ballet up until I was fourteen, and upon entering high school I joined my school's dance team and branched out to other styles of dance such as jazz, modern, and lyrical. I am currently continuing to dance here at GWU as a Performing Arts Scholar, and am stuyding to be a dance minor (sounds kind of lame, but its actually pretty cool).
When I am not dancing (which is probably 2 out of 40 times you will find me), I will most likely be eating or watching Friends DVDs, or doing both at the same time. Pasta is always number one on my list. I love Italian Food. However, Mexican food, I could do without. One wise man once said "Mexican food... that's an oxymoron." And indeed the "large man in plane" from the movie "Just Married" is correct. Oh, and if you have not noticed another great hobby of mine (which I share with my cousins) is quoting mediocre movies (but not in my opinion- Home Alone is a superior film). Even though nobody ever really understands or laughs when I quote a random line from some obscure film, it still makes me happy.
SO, now that you have read a little about me, I hope that you can at least say my name correctly the next time you address me- if not, just call me Princess Consuela.