N o More Assignments...today.

Okay, so it has been like two months since I posted, and I'll be honest, I wasn't really sure if I wanted to continue this or not. Maybe I just didn't have enough time. I got a promotion at work, so I've been super busy, and dealing with colleges (always a joy) past and present (and, hopefully, future.) Life is fabulous, though, and I am enjoying all of the recent wonderful weather (flip-flops and tanks tops make the world go round. For me, anyway.) So maybe I'll post more often, especially since classes are done in a few weeks. Yay!

Another Stab at Poetry

Assignment: use certain provided words (ether, black, tilt, rip), and describe watching the sky; 4 stanzas of 3 lines each. I did what I could, but we all know how bad at poems I am. My apologies ahead of time.

Amy perched on the china blue cushions of the big bay window
And stared up into the night sky
Bright with the light of half a moon and a thousand stars

A calm had spread over the world out there
As if ether had taken over the outdoors
Amy looked and found Ursa Major, Orion and Cassiopeia

Amy’s blue eyes searched for Orion’s dogs, Canis Major and Minor
When the celestial lights burned out, and the sky became black
As if the earth had tilted and then fallen off its axis

A great white finger of lightning ripped through the sky
And touched the limbs of the tree which held Amy’s swing
She turned and hid her blue eyes until her father came and carried her away.

And now we know why I don't write poetry

He did not begin as my boyfriend
He was once just a roommate
He invariably made messes that I had to clean
And made the apartment smell like “boy”

He turned up his music
When he brought a girl home
And tried to shoo her out
Before I found out there had been another one

He tried to be considerate
Always saving me a slice of pizza
But more often than not
I would’ve preferred the absence of the pizza box and empty bottles

All of that changed during the storm
When the power went out and I thought I was alone
Tree branches knocked and scratched window panes
I melted into his open arms when I realized he was there

He longer turns his music up
When it’s me who is in his bed
And I am now consulted
On all take-out decisions

Rivalry with the Neighbor

The assignment: nieghbors, lending/borrowing things, odd relationships with neighbors. If anyone reads this, do you understand about the mural? My teacher didn't get it, and (although this is not the first time that she hasn't picked up on something) I had thought it was fairly obvious, so let me know.


Sheila and I had lived next door to each other for two years. We had been friendly since the day we both moved in, but things hadn’t really gotten heated until the month I stole her boyfriend from her and then she went out and stole my longtime crush. Neither of us ever admitted to doing it, but we were both aware. It’s been a competition ever since. For example, the week after I showed her my new 5.1 megapixel digital camera, she got a 6.1 megapixel delivered in the mail. That bitch. I shrugged it off, but made sure that I bought a tripod and a camera case and a silver plated photo album for the next time she came over. We met weekly, on Sunday afternoons, for tea and Danish. It had started out as instant coffee or a glass of day old wine with some crackers, but before long, our rivalry had taken us into hidden tea shops with exotic loose teas, and to the most exclusive French bakers for the most mouth watering Danish they could make. My last boyfriend thought I was crazy, spending $50 every other week on a woman I hated, but I had to do it. I was obsessed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. He left me soon after, and I saw him creeping through her green door late one night through my peep hole. The bastard. I went to his unfinished canvas that he had left in my apartment (not so much left as I refused to give it back,) and tore through it with a paring knife. The result was quite good, I thought. It made me feel much better, although my date thought I had gone “a little…crazy. You know, just…uh, uh, a little.” The next Sunday I was at her apartment I couldn’t help but notice the life-size nude of her in the other room. I guess I had always wanted a mural in my living room anyway.

Excuses and the Friggin' Moon

The assignment: excuses that really aren't so good. I included the prewrites because some are pretty funny.

A woman misses her flight by an hour…because the hubcap came off of her boyfriend’s Beemer in four lanes of traffic and he insisted on pulling over and retrieving it, despite the fact that he pulled over on the left shoulder, it happened a mile back, and it landed in the middle of the second to the furthest right lane. Traffic was non-stop, and averaging 70 M.P.H., but he would get the damn hubcap.

A college student oversleeps and misses a chemistry final…because she ate a head of cabbage and bad milk two days ago, got food poisoning which had caused her to stay in bed the whole time, hoping and praying that she would be better by the final, but she slept through the alarm because it was her body’s way of telling her that sleep was more important to her health than a chemistry final was to her life.

Your mortgage payment is two weeks late…because you hit a dog that happened to be a prizewinning poodle of your neighbors, and although you could never truly make up for the loss of poor sweet Trixie McDuff (who shouldn’t have been let loose in the first place, stupid animal), you had to pay the stud fee for breeding another show dog to poor Trixie McDuff’s mum, and refund the competition fee for the upcoming dog show that poor Trixie McDuff would not be competing in, after all.

You missed your mate’s birthday…because her mom called you two days ago and said she was calling the radio station to have them announce it, and no it wasn’t today, but she always liked to give them three days notice, just a little heads up before the big day, did I want to add anything to the message? I swear.

You greeted someone familiar using the wrong name…because I was thinking so much about that algebra class that I’m failing miserably, and the teacher’s name is Ms. Lauren and she wears the same Cavalli stockings as you with her black knee-length skirt, and that’s all I saw before I greeted you…her, thinking it was her, not you, hoping that by being super cheery she might boost my grade up just a tad.

You ran a red light…because the only thing remotely resembling a headlight that was anywhere near my line of very good vision was the friggin’ moon.

************************************************************************************

It was 12:30 and Tricia still hadn’t arrived. I sat on the couch and listened to the clock tick off the seconds, tick, tick, tick, and strained my ear for any sounds from outside that might be Tricia. She had promised that she would end the date early and be home by midnight so we could have a cram study session before the sociology test tomorrow. As usual, it was long past when she was expected and she was nowhere to be found. I yawned and decided to head to bed; cramming would have to wait until tomorrow.

I was just about to drift off to sleep when I heard the door to our room open, and Tricia’s voice. “Hey, stranger, wake up. What about that test?”
I sat up, threw my favorite sweatshirt on, and pulled myself into a sitting position. “Well, it’s 1:08. I had wanted to be in bed by about 1:00 or so, which is why I said we should start at midnight. It’s clearly no longer midnight.”
“I know, I heard you, really, I did. But it was just this date, this guy…he wouldn’t let me leave! It was like, he just kept talking and talking and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise to tell him that I had to leave. Finally I had to sleep with him just to get him to shut up for fifteen minutes, so I could get home to you. And then, to top that off, I got pulled over by a cop at that light outside town, the one no one stops at in the middle of the night, because no one’s around. He pulled me over, did his whole “license and registration” thing, and then “Do you know why I pulled you over?” I figured I looked cute enough to be able to get out of it, so I played dumb. “No ossifer, why did you pull me over?” Okay, I didn’t say ossifer, but I should’ve. He would’ve loved that. Then he accused me of running a red light. Isn’t it totally legal when there are no cars around? Isn’t that a law somewhere? It should be. Anyways, he said he pulled me over for running a red, and then asked if I’d seen any other cars’ headlights while I was going through the light at full speed. Full speed, my ass, I was doing no more than fifty. So I told him that the only thing resembling a headlight that was anywhere near my line of very good vision was the friggin’ moon! I guess he didn’t like that too much because he started filling out the ticket thing, and no amount of tears would stop him. And that, my dear, is why I am late, through no fault of my own!”

Chanel and Raspberries

Assignment: how life could've been. I pictured Kristin Davis as a more mellow than usual Charlotte York for this.

She sat at an outside table
Watching the people move quickly past
She picked at her salad, but savored her dessert
She checked her watch, 1:37
She checked her organizer:
“Retrieve Ella and Jaime up at 5:30” it read
A dog walked by that looked just like her Beatea
She closed her eyes and saw another street
In another city
In another country
Full of people
Lips moving rapidly
Forming unfamiliar words
A street musician played the accordion and sang
Her hat was half full of coins and bills
People added to the stash as they walked by
She took a strangled breath, opened her eyes, and saw New York again
She took out her Chanel wallet
And glanced at the picture
He was attractive in a chiseled way
Clad in Armani
She had worn Dior that day
And the kids were in Burberry
Even the dog was wearing solid money
With her sterling silver Tiffany dog collar.
With two crisp bills on the table
She stood and walked onto the crowded street
Melting into the human scenery of New York

The Golden Band

The assignment was on friendship, lack of trust, etc. Once again, write only what can be seen. And again, my apologies to Julia. I really did feel bad about that.

We were at the Michael Collins that night. I had arrived late, and all of my friends were already seated at a small table with their Guinesses, their martinis, their various fruit-flavored margaritas. I saw Julia the moment I stepped in, she had an almost empty glass of something bright blue that looked toxic. She stumbled over to me, threw her arms around me and yelled “Courtney!!!” I caught her as she almost fell and turned to my other friends, who smiled and shrugged and then went back to their drinks. I deposited her at the table and squeezed my way through the throngs of people to get a drink. As I waited by the bar, I looked around at all the unfamiliar faces when Julia suddenly ran through my line of vision and into my side. “Oh my god, do you see that guy?” she said, pointing to two guys who were seated together at table nearby. “He’s hot!” she said. The bartender finally came down to where I was standing, and I ordered the kiwi blended drink that was advertised in chalk on the specials board. As he began to make it, I turned to Julia and said “go for it, go talk to him.” She turned to go, then turned back. “Go! Before my drink comes!” I said, pushing her in the guy’s direction. The bartender put my drink on a napkin in front of me, and Julia took a sip of it as I handed the bartender a few crumpled dollar bills. “Okay, I’m going.” She went over to him, whispered something in his ear, and then pulled him out of his chair by his hand and led him down the stairs towards the bathroom. My eyes widened as I watched her disappear, and my brows knit as I told my friend what I had just witnessed. My friends started gathering by my side, and we all stood with our eyes glued on the stairwell. A brave friend peeked around the corner, searching the darkness below. She began to go down the stairs when Julia turned the corner and ran up the stairs and outside the bar. We all followed her outside, where she was leaning, breathless, against the façade of the bar. “He’s married!” she gasped out, glaring at me with glassy eyes. I had seen how drunk she was, but somehow I hadn’t seen the band of gold encircling his next to last finger of his left hand.

Oscar Party

The assignment was to write about something using lines from newspapers, using only what could be seen (again). I wrote it the day after the Oscars, so thats pretty much what it is all about.

I looked down at the red carpet leading from the driveway to the front door. The red carpet is the ultimate setting where all eyes focus on the attire of the guests as they step from their cars, and make their way into my house. Liza’s green dress was one-of-a-kind, and Muriel’s diamonds dazzled around her neck. Tom’s date, a blonde 20 something, tragically chose a youthful look created from layers of pink silk satin, and looked like a homemade cupcake next to a beautiful ripened man. Elaine came in her ice colored silk gown with her vintage diamond bracelet and fishtail earrings. I clapped my hands with glee, and then Jim came up behind me and put his arms around me, kissing my neck. I swatted him away, grabbed my mink and prepared to ascend the staircase. I appeared at the top of the stairs, and all of my guests hushed and turned my way. James took my arm and we started forward. The last thing I saw before I was rushed to the hospital were their horrified looks as my heel caught on my dress and I tumbled forward much like Vivien Leigh in “Gone With the Wind.”

All excerpts from www.oscars.com

Warning Labels

The assignment was to write about something using a worning label, and to only write what could be seen. I think this may actually be my darkest piece yet. Who knew?

My mother came in the room to see if I was awake and still alive. I could see her look of disappointment and pain that I always was. She bit her lip and said “‘Morning, Sunshine!” as she pulled me up by my waist, grabbed me as if I was a small child and placed me in the dreaded chair. I sat up awkwardly and smiled reassurance at her and nodded that she could leave. I rolled myself over to the mirror and the huge vanity that could fit a wheelchair underneath it. I could see a sliver of my mother through the door cooking breakfast for me in the other room. I smiled, then my smile failed and I dissolved into brokenhearted tears. My mother’s lips were moving to the upbeat, hopeful song she cooked to every morning. I wiped my tears away so that she wouldn’t see them, and started rummaging through the boxes and bags and cases that covered the surface of the vanity, looking for various articles of makeup. Ten minutes later, my face glowed with health and happiness, or a layer of bronzer and rosy blush. I picked up my hairbrush and started to untangle my hair. I picked up some hair ties and went to work on my hairstyle. With not a hair out of place, I grabbed the hairspray and began spraying. The warning on the back caught my eye, so I lowered the bottle to read it: contents flammable, do not use near flame, do not smoke until hair is fully dry, avoid spraying near eyes. I went back to spraying, but this time I sprayed my clothes, too. I sprayed a hazy mist which quickly surrounded me. I put my hand into my secret drawer and pulled out a half full pack of cigarettes and silver Zippo lighter. With the mist still surrounding me, I lit up.

Poor Little Marilyn

The assignment was on what your family expects of you, so I decided to write my own life story in a nutshell as a satire on expectations.

It’s a sad tale, indeed. Marilyn was a smart girl, and had been all her life. She was beautiful and multi-talented, excelling at many of the sports she tried her hand at, and receiving top marks all through elementary school, then junior high, and then again in high school. Marilyn had a promising life ahead of her, everyone agreed. The townsfolk waited to hear if she had gotten into Vassar, like her mother, or Brown, like her father. But little did the townsfolk know, Marilyn had not even applied at those places. Marilyn had worked hard all of her life; all she wanted now was to relax on a beach somewhere. However, the only way to achieve this beach bum state was to go to college near a beach, where she could put on a pretense of going to school, but really just go and get a great tan. So poor little Marilyn went to school in a tropical area, and spent most of her days on the beach getting her tan, and not too much time in her classes. The townsfolk were dismayed when Marilyn’s grades came back, and when they learned that her extracurriculars included beaches and margheritas, and little else. Marilyn was very sad about all of this, her tan was great, but she was bored with the beach, and so she decided to leave her tropical school. This was the first of many moves for poor little Marilyn, the girl who could’ve…but didn’t.