Creative Preface for Portfolio Poem

When she can’t sleep at night,

she thinks of what to write.

 

Ideas flow through her mind,

like visions of an acid trip,

Dripping with raw emotion and real-life experience.

 

She sits in front of her computer until her fingers hack at the keys.

There’s a story in there somewhere.

A story that originates from a young girl who lost her way.

A story of mental illness at its finest: paranoid schizophrenia.

 

It’s a blessing when it comes to writing, but it’s a curse when it comes to writing.

Too many ideas flowing at once, mostly good ideas. Mostly…

 

She’s been writing since she was young.

Her mother always told her to write how she felt.

So she did.

It started with letters from her mom, trying to help her understand reality.

Years later, she wrote letters back to her mom about how she turned out okay.

 

She advertises her books in hopes of someday making it big.

Maybe one day someone will discover her.

 

For now, she just keeps writing to escape reality.

To create her own story, the characters are her friends.

In the end, she’s not alone. Her characters are on her side.

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“Culvers” Play

CHARACTERS:

LOGAN, a 26-year-old labor working man, husband

NIKKOLE, a 26-year-old student in community college, wife

SETTING:

In a 2011 Kia Soul (car)

TIME:

Present

In the middle of a crowded city, surrounded by traffic; the camera lights above the top of the silver Kia Soul sedan. A young woman in the passenger seat with curly brown hair sits restlessly in the seat and is staring out the window in contemplation of something. A young man is driving with a red mohawk and is looking out the rear-view mirror in annoyance.

NIKKOLE: Ugh! There’s nothing to do in this town!

LOGAN: (tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, then gripping it tight.) You’d think as many restaurants we have here there’d be something to do.

NIKKOLE: We could go eat I guess. (she looks at Logan in thought.)

LOGAN: Mhmmm. (he stares deep into the traffic in front of him.) COME ON! (he yells at no one in particular. Nikkole jumps in her seat in surprise.)

NIKKOLE: Is that a yes or a no? (she frowns at him)

LOGAN: (clears his throat and looks over at her as they are at a standstill in traffic.) Yes. We can get something to eat, but that brings us to a problem. (he smiles unexpectedly)

NIKKOLE: (she scrunches her face in confusion) And what problem might that be?

LOGAN: You can never decide on where to eat. It’s always a game. I give you three options and you say “no” to all three. I give you four more and you choose one of the first three. (he stares back into traffic waiting for her reply. He can’t look her in the eye even though he knows he’s right.)

NIKKOLE: (huffs in disapproval) Fine. Give me three options and I’ll pick. (she crosses her arms in anger. It’s not a game. It’s not her fault nothing ever sounds good and she’s so indecisive.)

LOGAN: Okay. So do you want a sit down restaurant or do you want to just pick something up.

NIKKOLE: (looks out the window again and lets out a heavy sigh) I don’t know…

LOGAN: (rolls his eyes) Here we go…

NIKKOLE: Fine. Let’s go sit down somewhere.

LOGAN: That narrows our options. Fazoli’s, Dairy Queen, or Culvers?

NIKKOLE (lets out a smile) Are you craving ice cream or something? (she giggles)

LOGAN: I never turn down ice cream.

NIKKOLE: (looks back out the window at the mall. Thoughts swarm into her head. None of those places sounded that great.) I’m tired of the same old places here.

LOGAN: But you have so many options! Just pick one!

NIKKOLE: Ugh! Okay. Culvers… I think.

LOGAN: No! There’s no “I think” about it. It’s either yes or no!

NIKKOLE: Yes, Mr. Bossy. Let’s go to Culver’s.

(they drive in silence for the next five minutes. “Bulletproof” by Godsmack whines through the car speakers. When they arrive and park at Culver’s, they walk to the door and Nikkole reaches over and grabs Logan’s hand. They interlock their fingers in between their hands. They walk up to the entrance. Logan holds the door for Nikkole. Nikkole giggles quietly.)

LOGAN: What?

NIKKOLE: Nothing. (she laughs out loud.)

LOGAN: Tell me! (Logan is irritated.)

NIKKOLE: (so matter-of-factly) Man, I was really craving Dairy Queen. (Nikkole smiles up at Logan as they stand in front of the counter to order.)

(Logan rolls his eyes and starts telling the cashier his order.)

(Fade to black.)

“School” Poem

Why did I drop out?

Why was school so difficult?

Why was being in love all I cared about?

Why did my so called “friends” get me in so much trouble?

Why was I hanging out with the wrong crowd?

Why could I not concentrate on my work?

Why was it so hard for me to make friends?

 

Why did I not listen to my guidance counselor?

Why did I just not care?

Why did I sleep in class?

How did I make it out alive?

Why didn’t I drop out sooner?

How did I get my G. E. D.?

 

Why did I want to work instead of going to school?

Why was I so adamant on starting a new life?

Why did I think moving out and having a job would make me better?

How did I do drugs at school and not get caught?

How did I get away with getting searched when I had weed on me that one time?

How did I get away with coming to school stoned?

How did I not get addicted to drugs?

 

Why could I not tell the future?

Why could I not see what I was becoming?

How could I say, “I’m never going to college”?

“Depression” Poem

de·pres·sion \~\n. 1. The chill down your spine when you’re in a room full of people but feel so utterly alone. 2. The feeling of not having the motivation to do anything or go anywhere; talking to someone even seems like too much work. 3. The silence you long to hear when your mind is thinking dark thoughts. 4. Sleep seems like a great escape from reality 5. Feeling numb: I spend my days crying, I spend my nights crying/I wallow alone in my own self-pity/this feeling I just cannot shake/I’m not sure how much more I can take/the overwhelming feeling of everything around me/I don’t want to hurt anymore/crying/crying/I feel so alone in the world/I can’t breathe out of my nose from crying so much/My eyes sting from crying so much/I wake up in the morning and my eyes are swollen from crying so much/I feel like such a burden to everyone/Why do I feel these feelings/Why is being happy so hard to do?

Since I’m done with my Creative Writing class…

I’m going to be posting some of my work from the class on here. I have 7 pieces. 4 poems, a short story, and a play. I just finished the revisions on all of them last night. I have to print them all out with the original before revisions and make it into a portfolio. Stay tuned. I’ll post one tonight and schedule some more for the week.

What I learned by my 27th Birthday

So today’s my 27th birthday. I’ve already learned a few things in 2018. Here they are.

1.) You’re never too old to go to college

Starting college this past fall at the age of 26 has been a wake up call to say the least. I thought I was so smart. Only to find out, all these kids are fresh out of high school and actually paid attention in hig school compared to me who blew it off 10 years ago. I have learned to be aware of your appearance , but don’t give a crap about what other people think of you. I’m in college to get my education, not to make friends. If I make a few friends along the way, that’s nice. Unfortunately when I’m done with college, I’m expected to pay my tuition; not my parents. So I’m going to take advantage of the opportunity and try my hardest to get good grades and learn.

2.) Do not let your life rotate around things

Material things are really nice, I think we all can agree. However, clutter is a different story. Clean out your closet and donate those clothes from 10 years ago that have memories attached. You can’t let an object (especially clothes) dictate how you live your life. Go through things. Throw stuff away. Donate things. Do not let an object control you.

3.) Be thankful for what you have

It’s taken me a long time to get to this point. As being a student and not having a job, in my life right now I have all that I need. A house. Food. Water. A husband. A dog and ferrets. We pay our bills. I really can’t say that I need anything right now. (Other than the birthday cake I’ll be eating Sunday.) My husband said he wished we could do something nice for my birthday. My response was “I have all I need”. I’m very fortunate to be where I’m at and I try to be thankful for it.

This was a short post, but I just wanted to share some of the thoughts I have on my golden birthday today!

My thoughts on the process of getting a tattoo

So obviously from my last few posts you can tell I have quite a few tattoos. But hey, why listen to me, right?

First thing I want to talk about is deciding what to get. My general rule is not to go sporadically; pick something out and sit on it for about 3-6 months. Think about what the tattoo means to you. Ask yourself “Why am I getting this?” After you know it’s something you’ve wanted for a while, go get it! This isn’t to say none of my tattoos were sporadic or all have a meaning. From my last post I explained I got my bats because I like bats. That’s it. There is no real meaning to it. I just don’t recommend getting something on a whim where you will regret it later. Spend a lot of time on google or tumblr or Pinterest (or even deviantArt like I do.) Try to find something original. If you have an idea in mind, talk to the artist. I’m sure they’d be glad to draw something up for you!

Next thing I want to talk about is where to get it. DO NOT get your first tattoo based off of what someone else said regarding pain. Everyone’s pain tolerance and bodies are different. Just because my elbow tattoo almost made me pass out doesn’t mean you can’t handle it. The pain scale pictures you see on Facebook aren’t always accurate. So think about the perfect place for your tattoo. Do you want it hidden or to show it off? Are you wanting to make it into a sleeve? There’s many questions you have to ask yourself in this process.

Now, about the pain. Like I said, it’s different for everyone, but I think all of us tattooed people can agree it’s like a burning sensation. Sometimes you have to grit your teeth through the pain, but it’s worth it. Another debated topic is which hurts more, the color or the outline? Personally, it’s always been the color or shading for me.

Now how do you find the perfect tattoo artist? I go by word of mouth. I’ve been through 4 tattoo artists and 2 of these did work out of their house. A lot of people won’t go to someone who does tattoos out of their house. So I encourage you to have a consultation and maybe watch the artist work in their space. Also talk to people they’ve tattooed if you can. They should have sterile needles just opened from the package. The chair should have some sort of sanitary changeable wrapping. The artist should be using gloves when sterilizing all the tools and everything, There’s lots of things to look for. I also have found Facebook and Instagram to be reliable in finding an artist as well. Looking at their work will help you decide if you want to go to them.

Another thing you need to think about is price. Just because the artist is charging you $100 for a tattoo doesn’t mean you walk in, get a tattoo and pay $100. To me it’s just common courtesy to tip your artist, EVEN IF they don’t work in a shop. I try to tip about 20% so 25% of $100 tattoo would mean a $25 tip. Your artist will appreciate it and if you’re lucky they won’t be so heavy handed when tattooing. Tattoos are not cheap. You shouldn’t think you’re getting something the size of a post it note for less than $60. The minimum is usually $50-$60. Some people may think tattoos are expensive, but you’re paying for quality and something you’re going to have on your body for the rest of your life.

I think that’s about everything you need to know. Please let me know if you have questions or there’s something I didn’t talk about!