Random poems for funsies

Sorry for the delay (yet again), but I have fun news! The scene that I previously posted from my screenwriting class has been selected to be filmed by one of the mass communication courses as a short! Woo hoo! I'm really excited to get started and see the finished result =)

In the meantime, here are some poems from my creative writing class:

Phoenix

Graying feathers dangle from my frame

perched on a promise that my wings will again

Burn with Life.

My tail will glow brighter than Apollo

as it streams across the sky.

Shrugging off decrepit down

I gaze at the night which was once ablaze

With my Fire.

I desire to be devoured by crimson and vermillion

and renewed by the ashes of my former existence.

A piercing plea shatters my silent patience

yet I know only time can determine my rebirth.

So I Wait.

My aged wings salute the moon

and I embrace freedom with a solitary breath.

Anne Boleyn

Walking past the angry crowd, I wonder,

How could this happen?

I was an attractive mistress,

serving the queen,

then catering to you,

once my games were done.

You freed yourself from Rome so that we could wed,

I became your second queen.

Though I had a child fit to rule,

I could not grant you a son.

My misfortunes with childbirth

sent me to the tower.

I watched my brother’s head roll,

knowing his fate was to be my own.

I climb the scaffold

and walk to the platform’s edge.

Pleading my innocence to deaf ears

I kneel before you all.

The executioner prepares his French blade.

To the world I say,

adieu.

Hope you enjoyed the new poems and I will keep all of you updated about the film!

A month isn't so bad...

I really need to get back on top of this thing, but seeing as I'm having another night of not really being able to get to sleep, I thought this would be a good opportunity to update y'all on some things that I've been working on...

I'd have to say that the screenwriting workshop is by far my favorite class this semester. The professor is awesome and it's a different way to express myself aside from poems and narratives. I decided that I wanted to write a movie about something that I've been dealing with for several years now and should really have a voice of some sort. I have bipolar disorder, which makes a lot of things a lot more difficult than they should be, yet I choose to hide it because no one really wants to deal with a crazy person, right? So I thought I would write a film about a girl that seems fine and dandy on the outside, but is fighting major emotional battles on the inside that only the audience can see. It's been pretty nerve-wracking so far by just pitching the idea to the class and it's only going to get scarier from there. I'm currently working on a scene based on a series of sessions that I've had with various therapists, counselors and psychiatrists over the years, because for the most part, they all seemed the same to me. Here is what I have so far:

INT. WAITING ROOM OF DR. GOLDSTEIN-DAY

BRYNA MILLER is sitting on a cushy, beige loveseat, looking around at the generic watercolors on the wall and then at the clock at the wall. Her foot is shaking uncontrollably and tapping her fingers on her knee. She looks at the clock one more time before picking up and perusing through a dated issue of PEOPLE. After a few more minutes, the office door opens. DR. GOLDSTEIN, a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a sensible suit and pumps, waves Bryna in with a smile. Bryna puts down the magazine, grabs her purse and follows Dr. Goldstein into her office.

INT. DR. GOLDSTEIN’S OFFICE

Bryna sits herself on an overstuffed floral couch that would be found in any dayroom of a New England grandmother. She bounces on the cushion a few times before settling in a somewhat comfortable seating position and looks around Dr. Goldstein’s office. It has a bay window covered with sheer white curtains and a few assorted ferns spread throughout the room. Dr. Goldstein walks over to her well-worn antique oak desk to pick up a file and a notepad before seating herself directly across from Bryna in an overstuffed floral armchair that matches the couch perfectly. She clears her throat a few times before speaking.

DR. GOLDTEIN

So, Bryna, how are we feeling today?

BRYNA

Fine.

(Dr. Goldstein givers her a reproachful look.)

BRYNA

(Cont’d)

Ok. To be honest, I woke up at 4:30 this morning from a dream where Mars was crashing into the earth right on top of me. What does that tell you?

DR. GOLDSTEIN

Interesting.

(She makes a scribble in her notepad.)

DR. GOLDSTEIN

(Cont’d)

Do you have dreams like that very often?

BRYNA

(Picking at her hangnails)

I guess.

DR. GOLDSTEIN

(Prodding further)

For example?

BRYNA

Well, the other night I had one dream where my teeth were glued shut and I kept trying to speak which was followed by another dream where I was possessed by the devil.

DR. GOLDSTEIN

(Making more scribbles)

Mm-hmm.

BRYNA

So, I thought I’d teach my cats to talk.

DR. GOLDSTEIN

(More scribbles)

Mm-hmm.

BRYNA

And then I thought I’d go take a trip to the moon on the Oscar Meyer Weenie mobile.

DR. GOLDSTEIN

Mm-hmm.

BRYNA

Are you even paying attention?

DR. GOLDTEIN

(Looking at her notes)

End of the world, possession, talking cats and weenie mobile. Sound right?

BRYNA

Yeah.

(pause.)

You know I was kidding, right?

DR. GOLDSTEIN

Sarcasm is a common defense mechanism for those that are in an uncomfortable situation.

(Looks over her half-moon glasses.)

Are you feeling uncomfortable, Bryna?

BRYNA

Well, I’m stuck in a shrink’s office, yet again, revealing my deepest, darkest thoughts to a complete stranger that is only pretending to listen to me. It’s annoying and yes, it makes me feel uncomfortable.

DR. GOLDSTEIN

I see.

(Pauses and leans forward.)

You do know why you are here though, right?

BRYNA

Because I had a psychotic break and scared the shit out of my boyfriend. But I’m fine now, so can I go?

(Starts to gather her purse.)

DR. GOLDSTEIN

No. So you can set your purse down and relax. We’ve got another 40 minutes.

BRYNA

Great.

DR. GOLDSTEIN

Bryna, the real reason that you’re here is so that we can try to find a way to prevent you from having another one of your so-called “psychotic breaks,” okay?

BRYNA

Okay.

DR. GOLDSTEIN

I know you don’t like therapists very much.

(Looks at Bryna’s file)

I mean, you’ve been through at least 5 different therapists and counselors within the past 2 years and you didn’t stay with any of them for more than 2 sessions. That’s not a good sign.

BRYNA

For me, or for the psychoanalytic profession?

DR. GOLDSTEIN

I’m serious, Bryna. At this stage of your mental health, you need someone that can be an objective listener, as well as someone who can offer constant support and guidance.

BRYNA

I already have that with my mom and my best friend.

DR. GOLDSTEIN

I’m happy to hear that you have some support, Bryna, but I’m sorry to say that it’s not enough at this point.

I know that was a lot to dig through (a blog post really isn't the best format to post a screenplay) but I just wanted to share with all of you just exactly what is going on in this ol' noggin' of mine =)

Hope you enjoyed it and as always, feel free to comment!

Sorry for the delay...

Classes have started, which means less time to post (boo) but homework that helps me create some fun stuff (yay!) So, I'm delaying my Hemingway readings and posting a few poems that I wrote yesterday...

This first poem came from a neat exercise in my creative writing course. The object is to write a 10-line poem (or something close to that) using a modified proverb/adage/cliché and a few of the following words: cliff, blackberry, needle, cloud, voice, mother, whir, lick, hum, sky. Being the overly ambitious person that I am, I decided to include ALL of the words just for funsies! Here is the first draft:

Mother lived with two feet in the grave

and her voice pierced like a needle

as she claimed, "there is always a cloud

in the sky."

The whir of the wind as I stand on the cliff

licks my face and I hear

a distant lullaby.

The blackberry clouds move in and I realize

Mother was right.

After finishing the initial poem, the next task was to try to cut it down as much as we could. According to our professor, one of the aspects of a good poem is that it is concise and to the point. So, here it is revised:

Mother, with two feet in the grave,

pierces like a needle when she claims

"there is always a cloud in the sky."

Standing on the cliff, the wind licks my face

as I hear a distant lullaby.

The blackberry clouds roll in and I realize

Mother was right.

(This is still a work in progress, so input would be greatly appreciated =D)

After class, I had to run to work and somehow find dinner before attempting to function during a closing shift. At the time, McDonald's seemed like the perfect choice: on the way, fast, and most of the time, pretty tasty. The bad choice was devouring an entire quarter-pounder with cheese in less than two minutes, even though I could have just eaten it at the store with no customers in sight. That decision led me to write this little poem:

GROSS

Scarfing the cheeseburger,

I feel the sick sensation of satisfaction.

It is and it isn't worth the rush.

Running to my destination,

I come to find,

The rush was all in my mind.

And here's a little haiku for when I finally decide to quit my job (not really, though lol):

I Quit

Customers resent.

This is not fulfilling me.

With haste, I leave you.

I hope you enjoyed these, and as always, let me know what you think! =)

Quarter-life crisis...yes, it exists!

As I'm sitting here at my computer, I vaguely remember a moment in time where I realized I was having a quarter-life crisis. It's not like a mid-life crisis where you can buy a fancy sports car/motorcycle with a hot young girlfriend/boyfriend and call it a day. I think other generations don't understand because they haven't had the same experience, so I'll explain it as I came to know it. After graduation, replacement diploma in hand, the class of 2008 was sent out into the real world to start their new lives as young adults in the work force. Little did we know that the economy was in a tailspin, leaving us with a slim-to-none shot of being able to do what we wanted to do. For example, I left with a B.S. in Theatre hoping I'd have some success in the Chicago theatre scene. Unfortunately, theatre jobs that actually pay are not plentiful, so I had to look for a real job that actually paid while I worked at my internship at a not-for-profit theatre company. About two months passed before I was able to find a job and that was only because someone recommended that I apply there and gave me a good recommendation to the manager. I worked as a hostess at an upscale café for several months, serving people that felt they were entitled to treat me like I wasn't even human just because I was in my early 20's and working in customer service. In the meantime, I had finished my internship and had only been to two auditions...not what I had planned when I moved out to the Windy City. Mike and I were still struggling with finances, despite having two part-time jobs apiece, and it got to the point where we were at a crossroads. It was at that moment that I grabbed a pen and wrote this:

It's at this point right here-that single moment where your past and your future seem to zoom right past each other and it's too fast to see but you know it happened-this point where you honestly don't know where to go next. You know you have to make a choice; whether it's to move in or move out, find another job or stay put, go back to school or keep saying "why did I even bother?". Some say you just feel numb, like there is a void of emotion solely because you can't remember in that spit second what emotion is supposed to feel like. I, on the other hand, feel every emotion there is to feel: anger, joy, sadness, relief, anxiety, compassion, greed, guilt, you name it. Everything all at once, mixed together in a confusing mess so intense that I start to feel pressure around my skull and I want to cry. And I do. These tears are ever so slightly cathartic, as if my head would have exploded had I not allowed moisture to build in my eyes and fall down my cheeks.

Words are pretty much useless at this moment; in fact, there are no words to properly express what goes on in my head at this moment. But I do know this-it feels real.

Essentially, this is what a quarter-life crisis can feel like. After experiencing this, I asked my friends if they felt the same way and they all said yes, so at least I know I'm not crazy. I also happened to stumble upon the Wikipedia page and found that it describes this phenomenon pretty well: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quarter-life_crisis

Hopefully, with my additional degree, I can avoid the same stresses I experienced the first time around. To those entering the real world, I say, good luck!

Thanks for checking out today's ramblings and stay tuned for more!

Hello!

I'll start with an old favorite of mine to get this blog rolling...

Ophelia

Somewhere lost in state of mind

I sat 'a thinking

About a love that wandered

Far from Earthly reach

He stole my heart and then my mind

So flow’rs I dressed in

Death I sadly met in water

Child of seventeen

11/2/06

Stay tuned for more updates as a new semester begins and more creations emerge!