So many viewers!

I feel so lucky to have a blog that's had so many views since I started it a few months ago. Well now I've got my own personal blog where I write down some of my deep thoughts.. My works are important to me, but I hope some of you check out my new blog at http://purpleismyshadeofwild.blogspot.com/

It's a real change from this one and we'll see how it goes........

The Hands of Fate

This is a story all about fate and how destiny can lead us into unexpected directions. The main character Wallace finds himself facing loneliness until he meets the love of his life. She completely changes him and he's positive once again.

The Hands of Fate

            I belted out the song while holding both beers in either hand, feeling like nothing could touch me. Standing on the table probably wasn’t the best idea for anyone this late at the bar, but the bartender didn’t seem to mind anyway. My slurred words to “She Thinks My Tactor’s Sexy” brought out the very best in me, but no one knew that. The next morning I would go back to my empty home with a headache that would remind me of the fun I hadn’t shared with anybody the night before. Wallace was the name. Forgetting was my game.

            “What did I do last night?” I kept trying to stop the habit of talking to myself, it was getting ridiculous. I suppose that’s what happens when you live alone for so long. I think I remembered a fight, but I wasn’t sure. That would definitely explain the bruise on my left cheek. The throbbing in my head wouldn’t cease, nor would the pounding ache that came from my lower back.
“Am I really getting that old?” Dammit. Talking to myself again. I was being a lazy pig. I peeled myself off the couch and into the kitchen to try and wake myself up from the lousy dream I was having the night before. The only thing I remembered was a tree with stretching branches that reached out towards the sun. The sun behind the branches had shone through with a yellow glow that illuminated the rest of the scene. Leaves were blowing about, but the wind was calm and not threatening my happy dream. It was peaceful, and I’d give anything just to float back into my colorful dream. But instead I get to lounge and suffer through another day in this empty house.

            The hangover wasn’t all too bad, although the empty list of missed calls and texts on my cell phone was. I thought back to the time when my phone rang relentlessly as if trying to scream for my attention. My friends and I would go out to TGIF on the weekends and enjoy ourselves like the college roommates we once all were. What happened to them all? They had all moved on and fell in love. Marriage and kids of their own had broken each of us into separate cities and states, with rare text messages or emails including pictures of the new families. Where was I? In the same place they had all left me. I felt like a lump of coal in that poor, unfortunate kid’s stocking Christmas morning. Nevertheless, the smell of wet grass, new flowers, and fresh laundry would soon fill my apartment, along with a sweet smile that would bring me joy each and every day. But I still had no idea.

            I met her at the restaurant I loved to go to by myself after spending the whole day running, as if trying to outrun my problems. She sat there, silently staring at the empty seat that waited across from her. I knew it’d have to be bold, but I wanted more than anything to fill that chair and that empty table with conversation. I waited ten minutes at the side of the bar and then dove into my opportunity. Julia. I wondered how her date could stand her up, she was beautiful. Her wit and intelligence amazed me and still amazes me to this day.

            Now I think back to how one day could change the rest of my life and finally I have pictures of a family that I can send to my former friends that used to be my only happiness. The kids keep me busy, my new job at the local children’s hospital keeps me busy, but more than anything my new positive and optimistic outlook on life keeps me busy.

            I guess the old cliché is right. It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness. Before Julia, the darkness that I cursed each and every morning only brought me bitterness and made me an aging drunk. I’m never looking back now, the future is all I, and everyone else, can look forward to. 

Oh, Homework

This is an original and humorous poem all about homework. Through sarcasm, I show the positives of homework. This is an ode or an elegy to the thing that most students hate the most in the world.




Oh, Homework

The muffled sounds in the other room

Silence that seeps from the walls

Concentration that eclipses the moon

Long hours, and the warm bed calls

Keyboards chattering away into the night

Eyes drooping, mouths yawning

Oh, how terribly wonderful the sight

Working till the sun starts dawning

Busy nights that keep me firm

Never fearing boredom

For you have so much appeal and allure

Idleness I cannot fathom

Together, we go hand in hand

A life partner through the years

Creating masterpieces without demand

No pain, no stress, no tears

Homework, I could not live without

Could never part with thee

For if there’s one thing without a doubt

Homework is a part of me

Trust vs Suspicion

This set of two poems is an emotion prose poem vs another emotion. The two contrasting emotions describe how people can be split between two different feelings simultaneously. The two poems are set side by side and personified.

Trust

Trust holds the hands of the lonely, lights the way in the dark. When hearts jump, trust catches them like open arms. Trust leavse no eyes unopened, no words unspoken. It is the son that breaks the darkness of clouds and dries the tears on a forgotten face. Trust remembers those who left no mark and brings them flowers. Trust picks up the drooping frowns on the face of lost hope. Trust goes home to Courage and they hold hands and watch the sun rise. She goes out in the day and begins all over again.

Suspicion

Suspicion knaws at the back of our throats. He puts nightmares on our pillows. Waiting... For our minds to absorb the dread. Suspicion lurks, quietly in the bottom of our stomachs. His butterflies are let loose into our blood as they flutter and fly about. Suspicion weighs down on our eyelids, heavily dragging down our hopefulness. He fights with our laughts, trapping them in jars, throwing them over cliffs, never to be heard again. Suspicion drives our minds over the edge, and into the cave he crawled out of.

They Call Her Goldilocks

This is a third person narrative I wrote for a fairytale assignment in our class. I decided to twist the original theme and story of Goldilocks and apply it to present day San Francisco. I am in love with the city and thought that the story could have an interesting plot in modern day dynamics. 

They Call Her Goldilocks

            Once upon a time, in the booming city of San Francisco there lived a girl with bouncing brown curls that would spring up and down as she walked down the busy streets. She would spend the days roaming the alleys and looking for new places to explore. Her name was Genna, but they called her Goldilocks, since everyone knew that was her favorite fairytale and she talked about it relentlessly. Seeming to not have any true fiends, Genna found herself causing mischief and getting into trouble with adventuring to places where girls would not normally find themselves. However, the people of the city knew that they could always count on Genna going off and finding trouble wherever it was hiding.

            One morning, Genna decided to skip her busy 7^th grade school day and find exciting places to see in the big city, a decision she often found herself making. She started her trek in Union Square and made her way left and right and up and down the crowded intersections and sidewalks. Eventually she came to a house under construction amidst newly built apartment buildings. No workers or busy men could be found anywhere as she made her way to the back gate that led to the freshly watered backyard lawn. The house was enormous, filled with brand new furniture and covered in bright paint. The wooden floors glistened and the lights inside glowed with new fluorescent lights that invited Genna further into the house, where she made herself comfortable as if it were her own home. The house seemed empty, but it was too perfect for a family not to live in such a warm and alluring place.

            After kicking her shoes off, she went straight for the kitchen and dug into the shiny refrigerator that was stocked with anything a heart desires. However, it was strange that there were only three spoons, three cups, and three plates in the whole house. All three were different sizes as if custom made for a family of three. Without thinking about whose it could be, Genna picked the perfect sized cup, spoon, and plate from the cupboards and served herself to pastas, and rice, and fruits, and assorted chicken and steak. It all seemed too good to be true, and right as she sat down in the small chair by the fireplace, the tiny chair broke under her weight. Without a second glance, Genna lowered herself into the comfiest chair and ate her food with ease.

            It only seemed necessary to Genna to take a nap after eating so much food, leaving her dirty dishes on the coffee table and heading upstairs. She climbed into the most comfortable bed out of the three that varied in sizes and quickly fell asleep. Until….

Standing above her face as she woke up, the family of three watching Genna sleep just started without saying a word. Genna jumped out the bed, startled by the people she’d never seen before and it took her a minute to remember she was in somebody else’s seemingly empty home. But instead of scolding the stranger in their home, the family kept her there the whole day asking her all about her life and Genna seemed to enjoy so much attention from three very different people. They laughed and talked and felt like a whole new family together, and even planned trips for the future that involved exploring San Francisco’s ever corner. Genna was ecstatic and couldn’t wait to tell people all about this new family the next day at school.

            The very next day was her birthday, but when Genna strolled back to the beautiful house, there was nothing there but an empty driveway with a dead lawn and no home. She was dumbfounded by the disappearance of the house but knew that her good fortune was too great to be true. She walked back to her home in a slump and was again disappointed to see that her parents were nowhere to be found, especially on a day like her birthday. Sulking and wishing she had some company, Genna sat down on her couch and put her face in her hands. But right when all hope was lost, her parents burst through the door with balloons and streamers and lights with bright colors and swept through the room. Behind them came in classmates and friends from around San Francisco that had all come to celebrate Genna’s birthday with her. All her worries went out the door when she suddenly realized that she had everything she could ever want all around her.

Bill

This is a collaborative piece that Hannah Phillips and I worked on in class. The point of view is switched to the father who is dying of disease instead of a third person narrative. The story really changes as the different points of view are brought into light. This is the point of view of Bill.


I can't bring myself to tell her, but I bet she can tell something is wrong. The coughing has gotten worse and I feel like my lungs are slowly disintegrating. But I keep her in mind, trying my best to distract her from what she's already lost. First her mother, now the man who has tried his best to fill that void.

I'm making the most of the time I have left with her. I try and memorize her smile, keep her laugh in my head to keep me strong. Sometimes I feel she's the only one that keeps me going.

But I can't be selfish, I have to let her go so she can be safe. The family that has her has to be near to perfect; that's what she deserves. Her mother would've wanted nothing less for her in such a difficult situation.

I can barely bring myself to look her in the eye and convince her that she's a big girl. I hope her little heart grows strong over time. It breaks my heart to watch my little girl walk away, but it helps knowing she'll be safe and happy in a loving home.

Letter from the Rose Garden

This is an original one-act play that we wrote for our class. The short play consists of a few scenes of two romantic characters that undoubtably fall in love with each other. Although they are unable to be together at first, their connection never seems to separate. 

One Act Play

Letter from the Rose Garden

DARUIS: The golden boy from the suburban cities in Italy. His character is modest and simple, a hopeless romantic who strives to find himself in the studies he’ll learn from going back to school during a time when education wasn’t the number one priority. This character falls in love easily, as shown by his fickle heart in this act.

Lorette: This character feels herself different from the crowd and her long brown hair falls messy on both sides of her face. She sees through the fakeness in people and cannot stand to be a part of the rich and wealthy society that she was born into. She yearns to escape the noise and go somewhere quiet with someone she loves above all.

Scene 1

The audience is opened up to the path leading up to a garden outside in the suburban areas of Italy. In an ambiguous time in the past, the audience then sees DARIUS pacing back and forth on the dirt path near a fountain and rose bushes. The sky is a pale purple and blue mix where the sun has just recently set but the weather is still warm from the sun’s warmth earlier that day. There is a party somewhere in the distant background where a masquerade ball is happening. The wealthy party while DARIUS sits alone in the garden, trying to clear his mind.

DARIUS: Why do my thoughts disturb my peace? How is it that I am so pensive on such a carefree evening…?

[The sound of footsteps on the dusty path to the garden can be heard. LORETTE walks out from behind the bushes.]

LORETTE: Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.

DARIUS: Quite the opposite, I am in the need of company. How goes the party?

LORETTE: No excitement or interest in there for me. Only masked people yearning the attention or notice from a stranger.

DARIUS: Although you are not strange, I am glad to have caught your notice.

[LORETTE smiles at the kind and clever joke and they proceed to talk for hours on through the night.]

Scene 2

Later that night, as people are filing out of the ballroom. Their eyes meet as they meet up outside. The moonlight is illuminating the scene and the quiet murmur of people milling about is heard in the background.

LORETTE: I’ll be seeing you again soon I hope?

[DARIUS looks away sheepishly as though severely apprehensive to tell LORETTE of the thoughts on his mind.]

LORETTE: What is it?

DARIUS: I must leave before sunset tomorrow, for I am returning to school in Vienne for a while.

[LORETTE and DARIUS are forced to say their goodbyes although both know that they have easily fallen in love with one another just from one night of getting to know one another. Their parting takes forever, neither one wants to leave.]

Scene 3

DARIUS leaves for school, but immediately writes a letter to LORETTE’s home in Genoa. The years pass and the two send letters back and forth while the short encounter still burns within them both. Years later in the city of Padua, not too far from Genoa, the two meet again at last. The cobblestone streets from the train station are loud with people bustling by and the two spot each other as DARIUS steps off the station.

[LORETTE runs to greet DARIUS.]

DARIUS: To think it has been so long.

LORETTE: Although it does feel as though you never left.

[The two stare at one another lovingly.]