Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Fall



This is NOT an assignment. This is only a story that I recently wrote and would like some feed back on.

Thanks!





Chapter 1:Fall

In the beginning, there was a set of quadruplets. Identical. In birth weight, size, color, all the way down to the shapes of their heads. As they each appeared into the world, they were laid side by side on a cold metal tray, covered in their mothers entrails, and blinded by an intense light.
They ripped their mother from the inside out. Bones cracked and shifted as dark crimson swam down the sterile white sheets of the hospital bed. Her breath waxing and waning as the nurse dabbed her sweaty forehead.

“You did wonderfully.” said the nurse, “Would you like to see them?”

She did not.  The mother’s dark eyes wandered to a large window to her left. The pale, gray, light made her skin a sick white, and made her black hair even darker. Outside of her hospital window, in the distance sat a large ebony oak tree shrouded in morning fog. One tiny, orange leaf clung to branch while the violent wind made it sway to and fro.
A sudden cry broke the mother’s concentration. The quadruplets were alive. So alive. It made her sick. The doctor began emergency surgery on the mother. She was losing too much blood. The nurse ran to wrap the quadruplets in their respective blankets and whisk them all away. The wind began screaming against the windows as the mother’s heart rate monitor began to beep faster. The doctor pulled down his white surgical mask and looked gravely at the nurse.

“We need to take her downstairs.” He said.

The mother began to shiver. The leaf seemed to be getting further by the second and hanging on to the tree with all of it’s might. A tear slid from the mother’s eye. Through her pale, dry lips she mustered a breath.

“I don’t want to go.”
“Oh honey, it will be all right,” said the nurse. “It’s not so bad.”

The nurse began to snap the levers on the bottom of the bed to allow the wheels to move. The mother looked out at the tree as her bed was being pushed toward the door. The leaf tore from the tree and became lost in the fog. Her eyes gently shut and her body passed through the door. Her left arm slipped from the bed, tearing from the IV and dripping clear liquid in small puddles along the hallway.

A small cry began to echo in the dim hallway. Then another. And another. And, then, another. It was a crescendo of pain and the longing for love.The quadruplets did not have a name. They did not have a father. And they did not have a mother.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

The Road


"Watch the road."
"I know what I'm doing."
"Joe watch the road!"

Joe looks up from the map and slams on the breaks as he comes to a stop at a busy intersection. A woman is crossing the intersection with a baby in a stroller and stops in mid-stride.

"Joe! You almost hit her!"
"But I didn't."
"But you-"
"I know what I did Luna!"
"You don't have to get defensive!"
"I wouldn't be so defensive if you weren't constantly nagging me!"
"I wouldn't have to nag if you would just give me the map!"

Joe crumples the map and throws it in Luna's lap.

"Oh that's mature!"
"Just take the damn map and shut up!"

After an hour of frigid silence goes by. The only thing moving in the car was the small dalmatian bobble head on the dashboard of their compact, blue, smart car. Luna looks out of the car window as they are trailing through the blazing red desert. The afternoon sun begins to lower making a dark outline of Joe's body as Luna finally decides to look at him.

"You hungry?"
"A little."
"I packed some sandwiches in the back if you want one."
"Sure."

Luna hands Joe a wrapped sandwich. Joe bites the plastic off the top spits it out in the car and takes a large bite.

"Joe.."
"I'll clean it up."

Luna leans her elbow against the window and gently rests her head on her fist as she sighs.

"What now?"
"Nothing."
"Your sighing."
"I can't sigh?"
"Other people can. But you can't just sigh."
"Okay Joe, what do you think my problem is?"
"I don't know. I figured that's why we are paying this lady two hundred and fifty dollars to tell me your problem."
"Don't act like it's just me. You have faults too."
"Oh I know. Boy do I know. You remind me every chance you get. It's just that every time I find fault with you, I'm wrong."
"We are going to Madam Reyes to help us fix our relationship. She's good at helping people find spiritual balance. You don't feel that we are out of tune with each other? Like we're vibrating on two different planes?"
"Nope."

The couple pull up to a tiny, dark, wooden shack. There are colorful wind chimes blowing as they hang from the roof of the shack. The couple get out of the car and walk to the front door. Luna pushes a lock of blonde hair behind her ear as she raps lightly on the door.

"Comiiiing."

As tiny old woman draped in colorful scarves opens the door and signals for the two to come in.

"Come in! Come in! Please sit. I don't have chairs but pick a pillow around the table and sit by the fire. I like to think this is more cosy than a conventional home."

Joe looks around the house puzzled. "Uh-huh."
Luna slightly nudges Joe in the ribs.
"Ouch."
The old woman ignores this.

"Would you like some tea?"
Luna speaks up. "Oh no ma'am, we're fine."
Joe raises a finger in objection. "I'll take whatever ya got."
"Lovely."

The old woman races off to the kitchen. Luna's fierce blue eyes immediately tear into Joe.

"What?"
"Why are you taking the woman's tea? You don't need any!"
"For two hundred and fifty dollars I better get tea and a full course meal."
"Which you will in due time."
The couple jump as the old woman silently returns with the tea tray and sets it on the table.

"I'm sorry Miss..."
The old woman holds a hand up to stop Luna. "No need to apologize. My fees are high but I believe it is worth every penny."
She sits in the on the ground with the couple. The old woman looks curiously at their faces.

"You are a very attractive couple."
"Thank you." said Joe
"Yes...yes. So very nice you are. Do you have children?"
"No ma'am. We have, uh, fertility issues." said Luna
"No, my sperm just finds your eggs too hostile."
"Joe!"
The old woman laughs.
"I can tell you love each other."
The couple look at each other incredulously.
"You do. And you will love each other more, the longer you stay. Come with me."

The old woman takes the couple into a large dark basement. She locks the door behind them. Luna stops.
"Oh, that's for...the air. It gets quite chilly down here."
Joe begins to stumble in his place.
"Are you okay my dear?"
"Fine. It was a long drive."
"Yes...of course. Why don't you sit."

The old woman leads the couple into a very sterile looking white room. There are metal trays on the counter, culture dishes, and a microscope lying out. The old woman pulls out a metal chair for Joe to sit on. Joe immediately collapses. Luna panics.
"Oh my goodness, Joe!"
The old woman then hits Luna over the head with a blunt object from the back.

As the couple wake up they are strapped down on two separate rollaway beds. Luna moves, but her back is in pain. She feels heavier and more tired. Joe tries to move his legs. But his knees feel a shooting pain.

"Well good morning sunshines."

It sounds like Luna's voice. But it isn't Luna. The old woman flips on a dim florescent light in the room.  As the lights come on Luna is standing by the light switch. Only it isn't Luna.

"What do you think?"
Luna/not luna spins around like a little girl putting on a show.

"What the?!"
Luna on the bed begins to panic. Her body is standing at the door. But she cannot figure out why she is still on the bed.

"Oh you want to see your makeover?"
The old woman grabs a mirror from behind her back. She puts it in front of Luna's face. Luna is old, wrinkled, and dry. A pair of beady, dark eyesLuna is the old woman. The old woman put the mirror up to Joe. Joe is a short, old, balding man with liver spots on his head. Luna has no energy to scream.

"Youth really is wasted on the young. You all never really appreciate your vitality, or each other. You waste so much time."
"What did you do to us?!" cried Joe
"Well, you all didn't care about each other so I decided to put your bodies to good use. I am now your wife, and you my dear have rejuvenated my late husband Paul."
Paul walks in with Joe's body.
Luna screams in horror as the lights go off.









Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Kyra's Revenge Updated


Kyra and Sanjay are in a tiny, dark, bedroom. The only light is coming from the vanity mirror as Kyra's gorgeous face is illuminated while she puts on bright red lipstick. Sanjay begins to awaken on the king sized mattress directly behind her. 

Kyra: Oh good! You're awake.

Kyra neatly closes her lipstick, wipes the corner of her mouth with a tissue, and then sits at the foot of the bed.

Kyra: I need to talk to you about something.

Sanjay begins to pull at the chains.

Kyra: It's no use trying to get away. I had Joseph-you remember Joseph? The guy from the gas station in Oaktown? He's so handy with all of the little knick knacks I need fixed around here. He can do anything for the right price. No questions asked. That guy is brilliant I tell ya...

Sanjay ignores Kyra and starts rattling the chains even harder.

Kyra: Uh, Sanjay, stop distracting me. If you want to be difficult about this I can just make it harder on you.

Kyra winds a handle on the side of the bed. The chains become so taught that Sanjay is in the spread eagle position, unable to move. Sanjay screams in pain.

Kyra: See now, that's better. I know how you men tend to let your pride get in the way when it comes to listening to anyone with a pair of boobs, so I just decided that this might be a little easier. Men like to make things so much tougher than they actually are. Am I right?

Kyra laughs at her own words. Sanjay looks at her with fear in his eyes.

Kyra: Oh now don't look at me that way. You can't possibly afraid of me? Or is it that you just think I'm crazy? If you are feeling the former, I applaud you, but if it's the latter, you have no idea...

Sanjay:
If once I did wrong, I apologize
If I destroyed you, I apologize
If I-

Kyra: You did, so shut up.

Sanjay:
In the interior of my mind I did not know
The ways in which I would hurt you so
The dreams you had, which are now let go

Kyra slides a suitcase out from under the bed. She opens it, puts on a pair of latex gloves, and begins filling a few syringe's with different liquids.

Kyra:  It's so easy to forget that people matter to other people. Forget that maybe, just maybe they don't quite deserve your cruelty? But that's kind of hard when every fiber of your being is burning with rage isn't it?

Sanjay: (takes a deep breath)
Your cruelty to me is well deserved
Vengence for your family preserved
Your hands wield the weapons of justice

But in your heart, if it is true
Do you not have feelings of kindness
That were not given to you?

Kyra: No. I don't.

Kyra ties Sanjay's upper arm with a scarf to find a nice vein in his arm, Sanjay wiggles his hands in protest. She injects the first dosage of liquid. Sanjay's eyes fill with tears.

Kyra: I'm sure you're sorry now aren't you?

Sanjay nods yes. She injects the second dosage.

Kyra: It's okay. It will be all over soon... You know I often wonder about my parents. What it would have been like if you didn't make my father get down on his knees in his own bedroom and blow a deep black hole through his skull.


Kyra injects the third dosage.

Kyra: I also wonder about my mom. It would have been easy to let her go, maybe have a little sympathy seeing as she was pregnant with my baby brother. She was a sweet woman. People often tell me that I resemble her, minus the gunshot wounds in my belly of course. I wonder if she would be proud of me.

Sanjay:
My wrongs I have paid for in every way
Your feelings I cannot sway
My heart it cannot pray
For my silence is my repentance
I do not deserve joy
But my life has been over since I was a boy

Kyra injects the last dosage. Sanjay slows in movement.  He takes large slow breaths. His eyes are getting heavy. Kyra packs up her suitcase and closes the latch.

Kyra: Let's get something straight: I do not care about you, and I never will. But seeing as how you are still conscious I will show you a bit of kindness and let you know what is happening to you. The drugs I have just administered to you come from the black market in Costa Rica. The first dosage is going to highten your senses, so everything you hear, see, and feel will be magnified. The second dosage slows muscle movement. The third dosage slows your heart and doesn't allow blood to pump through your veins and arteries, and the very last dosage should go right to  your sacrum and blow your spine apart from the inside out. 

Sanjay begins to contract his face in pain. 

Kyra: Be patient grasshopper, it is coming soon enough.

Kyra kisses Sanjay on the cheek, and walks toward the door. Without warning, Sanjay's spine blows apart and his insides are now sliding off of the bed. Kyra opens the door, closes it quietly, and proceeds to walk out of the apartment.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Kyra's Revenge


Kyra and Sanjay are in a tiny, dark, bedroom. The only light is coming from the vanity mirror as Kyra's gorgeous face is illuminated while she puts on bright red lipstick. Sanjay begins to awaken on the king sized mattress directly behind her. He then begins to struggle as he has realized that he has been gaged and chained to the bed.

Kyra: Oh good! You're awake.

Kyra neatly closes her lipstick, wipes the corner of her mouth with a tissue, and then sits at the foot of the bed.

Kyra: I need to talk to you about something.

Sanjay begins to pull harder at the chains.

Kyra: It's no use trying to get away. I had Joseph-you remember Joseph? The guy from the gas station in Oaktown? He's so handy with all of the little knick knacks I need fixed around here. He can do anything for the right price. No questions asked. That guy is brilliant I tell ya...

Sanjay ignores Kyra and starts rattling the chains even harder.

Kyra: Uh, Sanjay, stop distracting me. If you want to be difficult about this I can be just make it harder on you.

Kyra winds a handle on the side of the bed. The chains become so taught that Sanjay is in the spread eagle position, unable to move. Sanjay screams in pain.

Kyra: See now, that's better. I know how you men tend to let your pride get in the way when it comes to listening to anyone with a pair of boobs so I just decided that this might be a little easier. Men like to make things so much tougher than they actually are. Am I right?

Kyra laughs at her own words. Sanjay looks at her with fear in his eyes.

Kyra: Oh now don't look at me that way. You can't possibly afraid of me? Or is it that you just think I'm crazy? If you are feeling the former, I applaud you, but if it's the latter, you have no idea...

Kyra slides a suitcase out from under the bed. She opens it, puts on a pair of latex gloves, and begins filling a few seringe's with different liquids.

Kyra: You probably don't remember me I'm sure. I wouldn't remember me either had I murdered a nine year old girl's parents, stolen their money, and left the country. Wouldn't you say? It's so easy to forget that people matter to other people. Forget that maybe, just maybe they don't quite deserve your cruelty? But that's kind of hard when every fiber of your being is burning with rage isn't it?

Sanjay shakes his head no in utter fear. Kyra rubs Sanjay's head gently and removes his dark hair from his face.

Kyra: There, there now, it will be alright, it won't hurt nearly as much as you think it will. 

Kyra ties Sanjay's upper arm with a scarf to find a nice vein in his arm. She injects the first dosage of liquid. Sanjay's eyes fill with tears.

Kyra: I'm sure you're sorry now aren't you?

Sanjay nods yes. She injects the second dosage.

Kyra: It's okay. It will be all over soon... You know I often wonder about my parents. What it would have been like if you didn't make my father get down on his knees in his own bedroom and blow a deep black hole through his skull.

Kyra injects the third dosage.

Kyra: I also wonder about my mom. It would have been easy to let her go, maybe have a little sympathy seeing as she was pregnant with my baby brother. She was a sweet woman. People often tell me that I resemble her, minus the gunshot wounds in my belly of course. I wonder if she would be proud of me.

Kyra injects the last dosage. Sanjay slows in movement.  He takes large slow breaths. His eyes are getting heavy. Kyra packs up her suitcase and closes the latch.

Kyra: Well, Sanjay, I guess this is good-bye. Seeing as how you are still conscious I will let you know what is happening to you. The drugs I have just administered to you come from the black market in Costa Rica. The first dosage is going to highten your senses, so everything you hear, see, and feel will be magnified. The second dosage slows muscle movement. The third dosage slows your heart and doesn't allow blood to pump through your veins and arteries, and the very last dosage should go right to  your sacrum and blow your spine apart from the inside out. 

Sanjay begins to contract his face in pain. 

Kyra: Be patient grasshopper, it is coming soon enough.

Kyra kisses Sanjay on the cheek, and walks toward the door. Without warning, Sanjay's spine blows apart and his insides are now sliding off of the bed. Kyra opens the door, closes it quietly, and proceeds to walk out of the apartment.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

The Teacher's Conference

Written by: Gabby Steib


Mr Wilson: Alright class, after today's lecture on Civil Rights, I want you to go home and write about some issue that we still battle with today. It's nineteen eight five not nineteen fifty eight, but things in the world are still unbalanced. Oh, and Jeff, I'd like to meet with you after class.

[Bell Rings]

Jeff:  You wanted to see me Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Wilson: Ah, yes. Jeff your parents keep calling me to make sure you aren't getting into any trouble at school.

Jeff: Really? That's odd. Sir I really don't have time to get into trouble seeing as how I go work at the zoo after school and then go straight home to study.

Mr. Wilson: Is that so? Well that's quite ironic Jeff, don't you think? I mean you're sheltered so much at home and then you work at a place that professionally shelters and cages animals. Do you ever feel the need to break away? Maybe even let loose for a little?

[Mr. Wilson puts a hand on Jeff's knee.]

Jeff: I suppose so...

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Lost




Imagine.
This is the experience that you've always wanted. You are in the land of wine and cheese. Where all of the beautiful people leisurely smoke their cigarettes and sip on tiny coffees at small tables in a cafe. Yes, this is your moment. You have always believed that you were born in the wrong country, and here is your chance to redeem yourself. But...you do not speak French. Nevertheless you must find your way to school for your first day of classes.
You begin your journey on a beautiful stone paved road. You open your map in front of you at the expense of looking like a tourist and find that your map is (of course) in French. You look up and scan your surroundings...where are the signs? Oh, right there! But, that is in French too. Damnit. Why didn't you take French more seriously? How did you think you were going to live here for an entire year without knowing anything?!
Breathe. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Just keep walking. The Université d'Aix-Marseille shouldn't be that hard to find. Right? Right? I'm sure it's here somewhere... Oh, but now it's raining. Breathe. No biggie. You just need to focus on finding the road and getting to school, so you march on. And then it continues to rain. And pour. And-is that lightning? Why did you forget your umbrella? And what is the word for umbrella anyway?
You look down. Your map is starting to dissolve into a colorful mess. Don't cry. It's fine... Okay you can cry a little. But make it look like the rain is in your eyes. You don't have an umbrella after all. Just don't panic. Your heart is beating a little faster as you look down at your watch. It's ten minutes to nine. You can't be late for your first class. How are you going to get there?
Oh, there are two old men over there. Maybe they'd be willing to help a lost American. You approach nervously. Crap! How do you ask for directions?
"Um. Exusez-moi. Uh, Où est rue d'Italie?"
The two men look at each other. Hopefully they understood through your terrible accent. They begin to argue. Shit. You don't have time for this. They look at you expectantly, and then they each point in the opposite direction. Great. Five minutes to nine. Your best bet may just be to go back home. At least you know where that is. One of the men snap to get your attention and points to a sign.
"C'est ici!"
You look up and find a bright yellow sign pointing you down the street and you follow it with your eyes to see that the University is down the street. Yes! Yes! Yes! You begin to run toward it. At this point, you decide that it's okay to look like a crazy American, because you my friend, are not going to be late for class.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Pancakes



Flour. Oil. Eggs. Milk.
I remember that sunny Saturday morning. I was eight years old, and I picked out my favorite multicolored striped dress just for Mommy's birthday. Sunlight was pouring through the kitchen window as Daddy brought Simon and me downstairs to help him make his special cinnamon apple pancakes. The light was making the dark mahogany cabinets even darker, and the silver faucet in the sink gleam. I was finally tall enough to reach over the counter, so Daddy let me measure out the four cups of flour in a bright orange measuring cup, and dump it clumsily into a large white mixing bowl. No matter how much fluffy, white, powder covered the granite counter tops, Daddy always smiled as if I was doing the best job in the world. Simon was in charge of cracking the eggs and dumping the goopy suns in the messy mixture while Daddy was always the stirrer. As soon as Daddy clicked on the ice blue flame from the gas stove I knew the waft of cinnamon was about to dance through the air, and then Mommy would know that we were making something special. Daddy poured the mix into a big black skillet, like the moon setting in the night sky. He cooked one side, and then the other. Before we all knew it we had three perfectly stacked golden-brown pancakes, topped with a white square of butter and drizzled syrup. Simon brought out the fancy silver tray for me to put the plate of pancakes on. Simon poured her a side of orange juice while Daddy topped it all of with a rose and a card signed by all of us. We walked up the stairs in anticipation. Slow, sneaky movements so that Mommy would be surprised. I will never forget Daddy opening the door and the world feeling like it was moving in slow motion as he dropped the fancy silver tray and went to Mommy's side. As Simon and I entered the bedroom we saw Mommy face down in a bright scarlet pool of her own blood. There was a rock in my throat and suddenly I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. Daddy turned her limp body over like a rag doll and examined the angry gash in her head. Tiny white bubbles were spewing from her mouth, and at that moment I realized Daddy's rose would soon be put on a large, grey tombstone.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

The Night


Darkness dampens the woods
Doning the silvery, gossamer cloak of moonlight
Dragging out the silence of the night

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Best Friends


Tiny rooftop apartment in the middle of New York. Two girls are sitting on a couch in the living room watching TV.



Girl 1: Hey, what time is it?

Girl 2: Time for you to get the hell out of my apartment.

Girl 1: Don't be like that. I know you love me.

Girl 2: You wish I did.

Girl 1: Why are you so pissy lately? I mean really! If Mariah were here, what would she say?


Girl 1 points to a poster of Mariah Carey on the wall.


Girl 2: Up Out My Face.

Girl 1: Yes...but more so, Shake it Off. Let's get up and do something. This mind numbing television is giving me a headache.

Girl 2: Who told you to come over here in the first place?

Girl 1:Your Mom.

Girl 2: You're lucky I'm too tired to sock you in the face.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

The Tunnels

10-6-2013



Characters:
Everyone
Kamile
Mom
Ashley
Little Girl


Setting: Chuck E. Cheese

There is stage is covered in pink and white balloons,streamers, and a pile of gifts in the upper right hand corner. There is also a large table on the right side of the stage. My friends and family are all sitting around me, as a sit in the middle with a birthday hat on.In the background on the left side of the stage, are large,colorful tunnels, cloaked in shadow.

(Enter Mom stage left with the birthday cake, everyone sings.)

Everyone: Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you...

There is a slight rattle in the background from the tunnels. Kamile looks back anxiously, then adjusts her birthday hat and continues to smile.

Everyone:Happy Birth-day dear Kamiiiiiii-le. Happy Birthday to yooooooooooou!

Mom puts down the cake and begins cutting it. Everyone begins chatting. Kamile looks around for her little brother who seems to be missing from the table.Kamile turns to her cousin on the left side of her.

Kamile:Ashley, do you know where my brother is?

Ashley: No idea.

I turn to my Mom.

Kamile: Mom, where is Jonathan?

Mom: (distracted) I dunno. Maybe in the tunnels or something...

Kamile:Mom he's only two! He can't go up there! He'll get lost forever!

Mom:Well just go get him then.

(Mom exits stage right)

Ashley leans over to me.

Ashley:Kamile you have to go get Jonathan out of there. There's going to be an earthquake!

Me: But I can't fit up there! I'm eight years old!

Ashley: I can't go get him, I'm bigger than you. Just do it.

Me:But I'm scared...

Ashley: You're always scared. Just go!

The party scene fades away. The large tunnels come into the foreground. The front of the tunnel is cut away so that the audience can see me crawling through. The tunnel begins on the left side of the stage and continues until the middle and cuts off. On the right side of the stage there is a large dark space, with the sounds of boiling water. Kamile crawls through cautiously. Then Kamile stops. It's too dark.

Kamile: I want to go back...

Suddenly a girl grabs on to the edge of the tunnel screaming.

Little Girl: Help Me! Please!

Kamile grabs her hand and pulled her into the space of yellow. The girl covered her face while hysterically crying.

Kamile: Are you ok? What happened?

Little Girl: She almost got me!

Me: Who?

Little Girl: The witch in the black tunnel! She eats children!

The little girl removes her hand from the left side of her face. Her skin is partially melted away and bleeding.

Little Girl: I want my Mommy!

Kamile: Your face! What happened?

Little Girl: The witch... she tried to put me in the boiling pot, but the lights helped me run away!

Kamile: Lights?

Little Girl:They are in the corner of the house, sometimes they make you disappear...I want to go home.

Kamile: Don't worry. You can leave that way.

The Little Girl starts crawling quickly behind Kamile.

Kamile:Wait! Have you seen a toddler? He has fair skin, light brown eyes, and a lot of hair?

The Little Girl nods yes.

Little Girl: The witch is trying to eat him.










Sunday, September 29, 2013

Bad Hair Day



I believe that the general population of the world has been taught some form of the philosophy, "things happen," and at some point you just have to get over it. But when bad things happen, I feel like I am the only one that has some king of magnetic attraction to crappy circumstances. For example, last summer I worked at Universal Studios Hollywood on the only roller coaster in the park: Revenge of the Mummy. Sounds like a dream job right? Well it would be for someone who has a sick love for all things creepy, terrifying, fast and jarring, but alas it was not.
On one broiling hot summer day,  I had to work outside for three hours because three employees had gone home for various reasons, and we were short handed. And I was especially lucky because on this day, I was working outside in the locker area all by myself when two locker machines went down, and sixty people couldn't get their things out of their individual lockers. It was a joy being called "incompetent" and having people scream at me for vouchers because I was wasting their time, trying to fix the lockers. Good times.
When I finally got my break an hour late, I was just grateful to have a few moments to myself. But like all things unfortunate, my break was cut short because I had to help take a little boy to the nurse after he decided it was a great idea to jump over the line ropes, and he busted his knee open on the ground. But hey, it could have been worse. It wasn't nearly as bad as the day I had to clean up red slushee and chicken chunks off of a roller coaster seat.
Needless to say, after my shift (plus two hours) had been completed all I wanted to do was get home. As usual, I went back to wardrobe, turned in my uniform, put on my clothes, and headed to the metro. In order to give myself a little peace, I turned on my ipod as I squeezed through the people on the metro, and found a nice seat to myself by the window. It's funny how a person can zone out so quickly when looking out of a window, that is until you suddenly look up and see a girl screaming to her mom that her hair ponytail is caught in the metro doors. Oh yes.
Somehow this girl got on to the metro with her back against the window and got her long brown ponytail caught in the automatic doors. Though I was a little horrified and confused, I was grateful that for the first time all day, it wasn't me that was caught in a spectacle. Although I believed she was shocked initially, I also think that she went a bit overboard crying and "hyperventilating" after a good six minutes of recognizing what happened. Even though her hair got caught in the doors on the way in the metro, it was all still in tact as she walked out, so after all the drama she lived, and I eventually got to go home.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Hair Stories



1. When I was five years old, I had a lot of hair to say the least. Kinky, curly, crazy, unruly hair and I just couldn't understand it. I wanted to have pretty long blonde hair like my best friend Sarah. She was pretty. Why couldn't I be pretty like that? Why was I the only person in my class without nice straight hair? One day, Sarah came to class and with her hair cut just above her shoulders and I was pissed! She looked even prettier than before! I didn't understand how it was possible for a person to look sooooo perfect and then look even more perfect. So that night I went home, determined that I was going to look like Sarah, even if it killed me. At five, I was not allowed to play with scissors...but technically I wasn't going to be playing with them. I was just going to cut my hair until it looked like Sarah's. Well after a few (large) snips of one side of my hair. My mom busted in my room (because it was too quiet) and yelled at me for cutting my hair. She then sat me down for an hour while I cried and she tried to even up the other side of my hair. Needless to say the next day when I went to school, I most definitely did not look like Sarah.

2. Middle School is a time of exploration. It's a time to push the boundaries because you are no longer a child, but a teenager. And that kind of thing allots you to do all sorts of things. Dying hair for instance. But, I couldn't actually dye my own hair because my mom felt that was something "adults" did. So like any good friend/ accomplice in crime, I lived through a friend of mine. Her parents actually let her do cool stuff. She decided that she wanted the "Sexy Lindsay Lohan Red." So after school we bought a random box of red dye, (because, hey, it's all the same color right?) and with our amazing thirteen year old skills, we transformed her into a firey red head. Unfortunately, Middle School is also a time of teasing and bullying so she went through a week of being called "Period Head" and "Tomato Top" and I was right by her side through it all. It was in that week that I became grateful that my mom was so uncool.

3. I believe the general population of the world has been taught some form of the philosophy "things happen" and at some point you just have to get over it. But when bad things happen I feel like I am the only one that has some kind of magnetic attraction to crappy circumstances. Luckily on this particular day, I realized that it isn't just me. Last summer, I was coming home on the metro after ten hours of working, and all I wanted was some peace and quiet. Unfortunately I was stunned out of my day dream by a girl screaming because her ponytail was caught in the sliding doors. Needless to say it was an incredibly sad, and long eight minute ride to the next stop.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Thunderstorm




Distant thunder rumbles away

It’s time for the clouds to come out in play

Midnight mumblings suddenly break

For the time has come- make no mistake


Shadow and black

Black and Shadow

Call forth the ominous drizzle

Slipping slowly from my roof top

Then down it pours a little


Calm and quiet with continuous motion

Sway once with the wind

Sway once with the trees

Then back in formation


Just as the peace pulls my mind to gentle sleep

Crackle! As a streak of light busts the air

Severing the Earth with little care

Breaking, Busting, and Blackening the light

Sitting next to my window on a thunderous night



Sunday, September 15, 2013

Closed-It is, and there it lay

A Coffin-is a small Domain
by 
Emily Dickinson



A Coffin — is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A Citizen of Paradise
In it diminished Plane.

A Grave — is a restricted Breadth —
Yet ampler than the Sun —
And all the Seas He populates
And Lands He looks upon

To Him who on its small Repose
Bestows a single Friend —
Circumference without Relief —
Or Estimate — or End —




Closed -It is, and there it lay
by 
Kamile DePriest


Closed-It is, and there it lay
The Departed it keeps-Still-at bay
Decaying only, lasting tranquility
Once Shut-ls lost in grey

Brittle White,cold lines divide
Slow tears-time has dried
Small demons- Click,Crawl, and Nibble away
Quiet-as the day subsides

Seasons pass-
But there-it lay
Eternity- in an Hourglass
Forever- it will Stay




Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Unwind



Unwind
by
Neal Shusterman

"There are many places you can go," Ariana tells him, "and a guy as smart as you has a decent chance of surviving to eighteen."

Connor isn't so sure, but looking into Ariana's eyes makes his doubts go away, if only for a moment. Her eyes are sweet violet with streaks of gray. She's such a slave to fashion-always getting the newest pigment injection the second it's in style. Connor was never into that. He always kept his eyes the color they came in. Brown. He never even got tattoos, like so many kids get these days when they're little. The only color on his skin is the tan it takes during the summer, but now, in November, that tan has long faded. He tries not to think about the fact that he'll never see the summer again. At least not as Connor Lassiter. He still can't believe that his life is being stolen from him at sixteen.


Commentary:

I find the very first paragraph of this book to be intriguing for many reasons. One of the first reasons being that it flips the idea of normalcy on it's head. In the world that Shusterman creates, the idea of actually looking the way that you were born is quite strange. Connor has plain "brown" eyes, while Ariana has had her eyes injected with the color "violet with streaks of gray." He also has no tattoo's, (common among kids) only a tan that he gets in the summer.  I believe that having Connor stand out as strange in this world, yet having him as sort of the "average Joe" in comparison to my own, allows me to connect with him as the main character and see this world through his eyes, even though the story is in third person.

This story also catches my attention because in the beginning of the story, I can only speculate why "his life is being stolen from him at sixteen." To me, I feel like the beginning is a puzzle and I am trying to figure out what the connection is between him no longer existing as "Connor Lassiter" and all of the trendy fads going on. When I dig a bit deeper and read carefully it makes me question who is "stealing" his life, and if that is the case why isn't he dead yet?And why did the author choose the world "steal" instead of killed, murdered, or something equally horrendous? If it wasn't his choice to no longer exist as himself, wouldn't it be fitting? When I first read the story it made me draw a parallel between this story and the movie, "The Stepford Wives." I felt that maybe he would become a sort of robot because he wasn't complying with the wishes of society. It made me think that he may not physically die, but maybe just his will and freedom.

The last thing that I find interesting about this opening paragraph is the emotional disconnect Ariana has toward Connor. "a guy as smart as you has a decent chance of surviving to eighteen." The beginning dialogue implies to me that Ariana clearly knows what is going to happen to her friend, and yet she is very nonchalant and matter-of-fact in talking about Connor's survival. This signals to me that either she doesn't really care for Connor as a close friend or that she is trying to distance herself from the situation so that she doesn't feel hurt. The paragraph also describes her as a "slave to fashion," and says that it is common place for "little kids" to have tattoos. I think the significance of this is to show that connecting with people on a genuine level no longer exists. If Ariana cares more about the color of her eyes than she does her friend, then Connor is in much bigger trouble then he realizes at this point. Having a tattoo as a child shows that the priorities of society have changed. It tells me that in this world,  things that have traditionally been seen as "individuality" are now conformity, and that without conformity there is no "true" acceptance of a human being. But despite Connor's horrible situation a simple look "into Ariana's eyes makes his doubts go away." Yes he notices the artificial beauty, but there is something else about Ariana that makes him feel better, which indicates that he is looking at the world a little deeper and not just on the surface. 

This strange, emotional bonding, unmodified person in an extremely artificial world makes you want to find out what happens next.

Sunday, September 8, 2013

The Confirmation




"Lola get in here now!"
Lola, a petite girl with wide brown eyes and a shy demeanor comes running to her living room. Her mother is holding a book in one hand and a large wad of cash in the other.
"Explain." she said.
Lola clears her throat. She is getting hot and sweaty.
"It is mine."
"Yours?"
"Yes. I've been saving for over a year."
Her mother looks at her with wide eyes.
"How dare you keep money to yourself. All of those nights that Bahri, Lale, and Nadide went without food-and you had money! This is not like you to be so selfish."
"I'm not trying to be selfish...I want to go to America."
"America? For what?"
"A job..."
"Lola you have a job! You don't need to go."
Mother cups Lola's face in her hands.
"You are so beautiful. There are many Turkish men willing to marry you. You won't have to work this hard all of your life, just until you find a good man to take care of you."
" I don't want to be a seamstress until I get married. I don't even know if I want to get married."

Her mother looks distraught. Mother nods her head in confirmation.

"I always knew this day would come," said Mother "you my daughter are different. I saw it when you were born. The moment I held you, I was afraid that you were already going away from me, and I didn't know why."
"Mother, it's not that I want to leave you-"
"No, it is okay. You are a woman. You are shy, yes, but there is something in you that holds an eternal strength. Something I never had."

Mother lets a few tears fall from her eyes. Lola hugs her mother in comfort.
"Please don't cry. I don't mean to hurt you."
"I know you don't mean to, but that doesn't stop it from tearing my heart apart. I've always wanted all of my children close to me."
"I'm not leaving forever. I love you. I will always be here if you need me."

Mother is silent for a moment.

"Is what you want for your life, so different from mine? Is Turkey really not enough for you?"

Lola contemplates the question, then she slowly nods her head "yes."


Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Collision



Lola is a young, Turkish, seamstress who works 19 hour days in a sweatshop making colorful skirts

Lola saves enough money to buy a plane ticket to the United States

Lola searches for more opportunity and meets a young, handsome politician with Turkish roots

Lola and the politician (Jeffrey) get married

Lola has enough money to send home to support her hard working family

Jeffrey is insecure/abusive and locks Lola in the house

Lola tries to escape in the middle of the night, Jeffrey gives her a black eye and threatens to kill her

Lola steals the keys to their BMW and speeds away from the house

She speeds so fast through the streets of Chicago that she doesn't see the small dog run into the intersection with a little girl trailing behind.

Lola runs the dog over before she comes to a screeching halt.



Screeeeeeeeeeeeeech! Bam!
Lola hears the sickening crunch of car metal as she comes to a quick stop, hitting her head on the stirring wheel. A thick, dark, crimson wave washes down the front of her wind shield. Lola stares in horror.
"Oh my God. Oh my God!" she cries
Lola sees a small red-headed girl, about six, bawling in front of the car. As Lola steps out to examine the scene, eyes wide and hands trembling the girl's mother comes running into the street.
"ALYSSA!"
Alyssa's mother picks her up frantic. Lola begins to muster the words "I'm sorry."
"Fuck you, you stupid bitch! You almost killed my daughter! Someone call the police!"
Lola begins to feel her chest tightening as spectators on the street stare in shock at the bloody scene. Lola puts her hand to her head and feels a deep gash in her forehead. Plagued with fear, Lola begins to run as fast and as far away from the intersection as she can, hoping that somehow the windy city could pick her up in the current and carry her away.


Sunday, September 1, 2013

One of those days...


This blog is a representation of the crap that goes on inside my head. I would like to start my blog by saying something really funny or interesting but for some reason when I am searching for the words to put on a page, they evaporate into thin air. And of course, later on, everything I want to say comes back and hits me like a boomerang, just in time to make sure I have no pen and paper or no computer in sight. Yeah...c'est la vie.

I guess this is just one of those days when I don't really know what to write. I'm hoping at this moment that some sort of inspiration will fall from the sky, but no luck. *Looks up to the sky and shouts* "Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?!" Oh well...

How about some pictures?

Yeah, I think that will be good. Everyone's a bit visual.

Just kidding. No pictures, but lots of love <3

Thursday, August 29, 2013