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Wednesday, June 17, 2015

One Act Play- Advice

Addison is a 13 year old girl who attends an exclusive private school. Joe is 20. He is Addison’s older sister’s boyfriend. Joe is driving Addison home from her visit at Stanford, where both Joe and Addison’s sister attend.

(The two stare forward in Joe’s white Volkswagen van, no one is speaking. Addison sits with her hands folded by her lap with a red backpack by her feet.)

Joe: Are you okay kid?

Addison: Ya I guess.

Joe: You look white. Ummm do you need anything?

Addison: A Voss water and some Panera mac and cheese.

Joe: Oh. W- Well I can stop at the gas station if you are hungry.

Addison: No. That’s disgusting.

(The two sit for about 20 more minutes in silence.)

Joe: When do your midterms start for school?

Addison: I don’t know.

Joe: Honestly kid, (Pauses) this ride will be ten times worse if we don’t talk. Talk to me.

Addison: Well what do you want me to talk to you about. You wouldn’t understand my private school problems.

Joe: I may not look too bright, but I do go to Stanford you know. I think I can keep up. What’s going on?

Addison: (takes a deep breath and releases) Fine. I’ll let you try to comprehend my issues. My friend Shauna kissed my boyfriend. And she split her apple juice on my Vineyard Vines Shep shirt! On purpose! I hate her now.

Joe: That sucks (pauses) were you getting along before?

Addison: Well- I mean- ya I guess so.

Joe: You should give her another chance. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.

Addison: (Looks at Joe, surprised)  Why would I do that? She betrayed me!

Joe:  I probably shouldn't tell you this, but, once I got drunk and kissed another girl when I was dating your sister. It was the biggest mistake I have ever made, and I was so lucky she gave me a second chance. Maybe this was Shauna’s biggest mistake.

Addison: What if it wasn’t- what if she does it again?

Joe: Then you can hate her, but for now, try to be friends again.

Addison: Fine, maybe I will. Do you think my boyfriend likes her more than me?

Joe: If he is knows your actual personality, yes.

Addison: (looks away awkwardly)

Joe: Hey- I’m sorry! I was kidding! If he is smart, he will like you better. You seem pretty cool to me.

Addison: Really? My sister should bring you around more often. (Looks away and the silence resumes.)

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Picture Perfect 6

With each penny he touched, his hands got dirtier and dirtier. It was his job to painstakingly insect every penny, nickel, dime, and quarter that came to the largest bank in the world. Some would pity his seemingly boring job, yet he found joy in his humble profession. Each coin had a story to go along with it, and each story was so different. The best part was, despite their immensely d different stories, each coin ended in the same place. Day after endless day he examined his coins, looking for imperfections that made them useless. For some strange reason, the damaged coins were his favorite.  They had gone through so much to get here. They had been left on the side of the road, stepped on, forgotten, or thrown away like garbage. These days not many humans on this earth respect the value of the coins like he does. He sees their struggles as if they were people that live alongside himself.  As he sorts through the tireless mound of coins, he pauses while holding a particularly beautiful one. It had been stripped of its face and perforated edges, leaving it smooth and delicate. It reminded him of his beautiful little cousin that has been struggling with cancer for awhile. He wondered what horrible things this penny had to endure, just like his poor cousin Amita. Despite to coins beauty to him, he has to throw it in the bin marked “Heaven”. This is where his boss instructs him to throw all of the pennies that look too worn, damaged, or even a penny that I feel needs to be relieved from its tiresome job. He loves his job, because he gets to play God, even if it is just coins. As he walks down the street on his lunch break, he feels a vibration in his back pocket, and picks up his phone, only to be told that Amita had passed away minutes before. As he thought about the penny, he wondered.

Picture Perfect 5

The streets were winding and perfect, just as she imagined them. The asymmetrical stones fell into place like only an old Italian street could. The midnight black lights decorated the walls and lit up her path on her way to the center of town. She had spent years saving to get here, fighting for each penny that was deposited into her meager savings account. When Katie was young, her mother had given her a book about the priceless streets of Italy. She had almost given up her dream when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. Her savings had almost gone out the window, along with her dreams, but her mother refused the money. Now that she was here, with her mother gone, Katie’s mind was focused on the map in her hand. The maps edges were wrinkled and worn from years of use. Colors fading away from thousands of hands touching, grasping, clutching. Thousands of people like her, all with dreams of Italy. As she walked through the covered portion of the alley, she stopped to look above at the tedious perfection of the ancient bricks. Each of them was placed by a tired, laboring hand many years before. The history here was almost too much for her to believe. Katie had spent so much time buried in her books, and she still never pictured Italy being so effortlessly flawless. As she finally reached the center she watched the people surrounding her. Some were American, some Italian, some Irish, British, Chinese. They all came to experience the beauty of this timeless city. Despite the world’s wars and all of the destruction, people still manage to come together to experience something magnificent. Some radicals have given up on the world, but Katie’s faith in humanity was restored at that moment, seeing the elated faces of various people strolling by. In that moment, no one believed more in humanity than she.

Picture Perfect 4

The ocean-side grass swayed with hope and despair. The dilapidated fence marked the property line that separated the public land and the private estate. She had spent millions on her mansion on the coast with no one to enjoy it with. She had sped through her childhood, rushed through high school, and raced to college and law school. New York was her home until her millions found their way to her. As she sat on her $800 outdoor chair she gazed out to the horizon, vowing to change her ways. No longer could she continue living in the fast lane. Maddie scooped up her blanket, and padded her way up to her crimson suite, decorated with the finest tapestries and paintings. Like always, she is awestruck by the sheer size of her closet, but once the wonder passes she reaches on the balls of her feet and reaches for her coach suitcase on the top shelf. Her maid wanders into the room, flustered with the irregular commotion. Maddie quickly explained away her packing with the excuse of a business trip. Her private jet is ready to take her far far away from her monotonous life. With each step up to the plane she recounts the nothingness of her life. Some people say it was great, but she was so caught up in work and the future that she forgot to live. The pilot asked her where she wanted to go, but she hasn’t made up her mind yet. After an eternity, she proclaims her destination. The pilot looked perplexed but stalks to the cockpit anyway. As Maddie sits at the window she wonders if she could be married right now if she had given all of those guys a chance. Her mind fills with possibility as she drifts off to sleep. The flight attendant gently wakes her as they begin their descent into Topeka, Kansas. She had her assistant find her a job assisting on a ranch, the polar opposite of her previous life. Her mind swims with endless possibility of life. As she begins her first day on the ranch, she is already happier than she was living in her multi-million dollar mansion.

Picture Perfect 3- Test Grade

The days begin young, and eventually grow old like the helpless beings that live them.  Day after meaningless day, she waits on her front porch, she waits for him to return home. His love never comes back to her, it was spent in those endless days in the explosive beaches of Normandy. The only letter she had received was from his commander, notifying her of his tragic yet heroic passing. He had fought bravely, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it seemed that they included everything they could just to make her feel an ounce better. The day she got the letter, she was young and fit, and also very pregnant with their fifth child. The tears came like an avalanche, no shoulder could console her. On nights like these she sits by herself on the porch, her loving children off living their own lives, making their own mistakes. She is alone to ponder their life together and apart. She thinks back to the night they met. The lights, the breeze, and the music all drove them together. December 23, 1934 at 6 pm Norah and her friends left for the Rockefeller Center in Manhattan. As the snow descended from the heavens, the three girls walked along the slippery, dirty streets, cars screeching by with their horns blaring. She loved the city, despite its bitter sweet nature. The cold nipped at her nose, taunting it to bleed, like it often did in frigid weather. Finally they reached the booth were they paid for their tickets. The man took their nickels and they made their way in, and spotted a free bench in the shadows of the big open tent. As they sat down to slip on their brand new skates, the crowds began pouring into the tent that was getting smaller by the minute. Norah and her friends hurried out to the ice that they had spent so long anticipating. The moon glowed brightly above the crowd, oblivious to the events occurring below.  As the girls struggled to make their way around the rink, Addison’s gaze flickered over to a tall, handsome, young man that was watching Norah. In light of the admirer, Norah turned her head slightly to attempt to sneak a glimpse of the handsome stalker.  Only as she turned, her face grazed an unfamiliar nose, and her lips were caressed feverishly by warm lips. Norah was awestruck, yet she did not object. The recollection of the great moments of her life hurt, but it was moments like these that kept Norah wishing, wondering, alive. The bright and scorching sun was beating down on her as she sat, pondering. A blue Toyota Corolla cruised by and pulled into the spotless garage next door. As the door shut, Norah was reminded by the day she found out Andy was dead. The dark, ominous, foreshadowing night before, Norah had put her four little angels to bed, and had retired to her own relaxing bed. The moment she sat down a sharp, stabbing pain hit her heart like a freight train. Someway, somehow she knew that the love of her life had been shot down by a German Messerschmitt plane. He had left about a year before, his letters drafted in European trenches left unsent. Children laughing shook her from her daydream. Her experienced mind floated to a new topic, the beauty of the world that surrounded her. No war could tear this away from her. The sun brightened still, until the lovely world faded away, and the heart monitor flat-lined.

Picture Perfect 2- Test grade


The floors gleam brilliantly a color similar to that of the sun. The lights that hang above in strands light up the room, hopefully and omen for the entirety of the rest of my short existence. The tables were set to tedious perfection, not a single detail askew. Small yet potent amber flowers sat in delicate vases along the center of the ivory table cloths. The assorted guests begin to arrive, and I watch them marvel at the alluring chandeliers that hung from the oak paneled ceiling. I catch a glimpse of my cousin Ally wearing a ravishing cobalt dress that used to be my own. My family and friends poured in, and I peer at them from my isolated corner of the balcony. The love of my life approaches. He wears the same midnight black suit that he had worn at the alter moments before. His smile radiated throughout the room, and outshined even the prettiest chandelier. He turned his flawless head as he heard his older brother’s voice ring out from across the room. Xander quickly turned back to face me, dismissing the calls of his boisterous and taunting brother. In a few brief seconds the bride and groom are expected to parade down the grand stairs to welcome our guests. My mother stalks out from the dressing room behind us, shoving us down the stairs with her brash voice. As we descend, my shoes clammer against the oak stairs that correspond with the ceiling above to perfection. The entire room stops to look at us, not a single eye is looking elsewhere. They stare up with longing, jealousy, regret, pride. I smile at my best friend, dressed to the nines with stars encompassing her flawlessly applied eyeliner. She waits eagerly to greet the crowd, but also let her personality come out. She has been keeping herself reserved, so I would be the center of attention, like any true best friend would do. This is her time to shine like the stars she used to decorate her face. Xander’s soft spoken brother was given the task of celebrating our marriage, despite protests from the other three brothers. As Sam stepped up to the platform, she turns to smile at me, a smile that reveals her happiness for me, but hides her lingering jealousy. She has spent her days searching for the right man to fulfill her life, yet no one has been able to handle her loud, sometimes obnoxious, sarcastic, yet loving personality. Sam walks towards the x marked on the stage, and begins her tediously thought out address. A few lengthy sentences in, her knee shakes, and she tumbles to the ground and lands with a heavy thud. It happened so quickly that I had not even made a step to rescue my best friend from endless humiliation. Another was able to however. As he stood, he hit his head on the sparkling lights, and his fair hair becomes one with the twinkle of light. His square frames present him as an intellectual that has spent many years perfecting his craft. He glides over to Sam, his hands run along her arms, gently waking her from her hardwood induced slumber. Her eyes slowly open to his caring face admiring her beauty. Never in my life have I seen a more beautiful couple, a more beautiful life, a more beautiful love.