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abbyeliseportfolio-blog · 6 years ago

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reflection

Over the course of the semester, I have learned a lot about myself as a writer from taking this course. I always felt a sense of comfort in my fiction and poetry writing abilities. From writing short fiction, I learned how heavily I rely on details and build-up in order to construct a well-developed and a well-told story. From this, I learned that my strengths as a fiction writer fall into writing longer works like novels. Additionally, I learned about my strengths as a poet. I already knew before that I enjoyed poetry and that I was skillful in it. However, I believed that I could only construct good and impactful poems if I was experiencing moments of high emotion. Through writing these poems for the book project, I learned that I can construct good poems whenever as long as I am thoughtful. Because the play was a group project, I did not learn a lot about my personal playwriting abilities, but I learned a lot about writing in a group which was helpful. I hope to explore playwriting on my own soon. I also knew that I did not like writing creative nonfiction going into this class and unfortunately, that ideology was reinforced in this class.

When approaching making revisions for this portfolio, I made changes based on suggestions. Additionally, I went through each piece on my own and made changes based on my own judgment. In terms of writing process, I approached each project differently. For the first fiction piece, I pulled up an old concept for a novel I had come up with and decided to build off of it. For the second one, I was initially writing a different piece but I was unsatisfied with how it was turning out. I decided to write a short story I had considered writing a couple years ago based on my novel Outlaws. For the poetry, I focused on the three things that make me the most emotional so I could write poems based on them, like my love for my own characters, my ex-girlfriend, my mother, and my fear of an unexpected death. Usually, these are the things I am thinking about when I write my poems so I put myself in the mindsets that have created my best poems so I could write these ones. For the creative nonfiction, I honestly had no idea what to write for it. I had to ask my sister for ideas and she told me to write it about this one really strange day I had back in November. After that, I sat down and wrote it because I wanted to see how well I could write something with more of a comedic tone because it was outside my comfort zone. Last, for the one-act play, I suggested writing a satirical interview scene with a deep message to my group. From there, we all collaborated and built the story together.

My goals for the future are to use what I learned from this class and apply those skills to my own writing. I know I definitely need to work on certain areas of my fiction writing skills, like description, so I hope to take time to comb through my work and practice my description writing through prompts. I also would like to create more thought-out poems. Most of my poems take less than ten minutes to write during the heat of my most emotional moments. However, I think if I approach the poems with more thought and with more of an artistic mindset, I could create deeper and more intricate poems. Last, I would like to develop my playwriting skills. Next semester, I will be taking writing for the stage so hopefully that will help me accomplish this.

#reflection

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abbyeliseportfolio-blog · 6 years ago

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One, Two...

Sophie’s golden ponytail swings at a rapid pace in front of me as I run behind her. I don’t look back because looking back means slowing down and I can’t slow down. All I know is that they’re after me and everyone else in our escape group already made it out. It’s just me and Sophie. We’re finally about to reach the door when a large, strong pair of hands grab me by my shoulders, dropping my gun out of shock. Amateur move. I let out a shrill scream as my body is tugged back, partly out of frustration that I almost made it out and entirely out of fear. But they can’t know that I’m afraid.

“Haiden,” Sophie screams out. She spins around, the dim orange emergency lights reflecting off the shine of her hair. She aims her gun at the man holding me back.

A low, firm voice to the left of me demands, “Drop your weapon. We have you surrounded.”

Sophie’s face goes blank as we’re staring down the barrels of several guns from all angles. Slowly, she lowers herself to the ground, placing her gun next to where mine landed in front of her feet. She stands back up straight, her hands up to surrender. She doesn’t look at anyone else, she only looks at me. I can tell by the look in her eyes that we have to comply.

One guard steps forward roughly patting her down. “Whoa,” she says with gruff. “Easy there.”

“She’s clear,” he mutters. He steps in front of her and leans down to pick up both guns. He hands one to another guard.

The man who holds me back swiftly pats me down. “She’s good too.”

“Let’s bring them to a cell, then,” says the guard.

They bring us to a three-person cell. It’s small with three big slabs of steel jutting out from the walls. Are those supposed to be our beds? Beneath each slab is a small wooden stool and a bucket. I cannot believe I’m stuck here. On one slab, sits a pudgy bald man with grey facial hair. His legs hang off the edge as he watches Sophie and me get shoved into the cell. The door slams shut and locks. I’ve been so careful all my life to never do anything wrong. I never thought I’d see myself behind bars. But I strongly believe that I did the right thing. If I’m being locked up and executed for anything, I’m glad it’s for this.

We live in a country called The Divisional Order. In this country, every imperfection is punishable by death. If you have a disability, they’ll kill you. If you have an allergy, they’ll shoot you. If you don’t comply with the law, they’ll lock you up and execute you. Diabetes, cancer, homosexuality, you name it. If they don’t like it, they don’t want it in our society. I never agreed with it, but I always knew that’s just the way it is here so I never questioned it, always complied, and even ratted some people out for things when I was younger. It was better that I told, though. Because if they were caught and it was found out that I knew they were doing illegal things, I would get killed too. No doubt about it. It’s hard for them to prove that, though. It’s very rare that they do, but in my defense, I was very brainwashed. I feel especially bad about it now.

The Divisional Order is exactly as it sounds. It’s split into ten divisions, not including The Capitol, which is where all major government meetings are held and where all the important offices are. That’s where people go to be executed, too. Each Division has a Division Leader and the Division Leader for my home Division just so happens to be my grandmother, Diana Murdock, who has been the Division Leader for longer than I’ve been alive. I recently learned that this was once America and my grandmother and the rest of the Division Leaders aren’t noble at all. They’re pure evil. They killed millions of people who were innocent and living their lives because they believed in a standard of perfection. They were never offered their positions as I thought. They created them themselves like they created this whole country and these laws. This isn’t how it’s always been, which is what they’ve made me believe. I thought this was how it is.

A group called TAR, or The American Revivalists, came to me and my friends after my twin brother Mason and his girlfriend Noah were arrested for an illegal pregnancy. They even control pregnancy here. TAR showed us the vile truth behind The Divisional Order and a plan for the most epic jailbreak in TDO history. I mean, it worked. Mason and Noah made it out, and so did everyone else. It’s just Sophie and me stuck here now. I don’t know exactly what their next moves are, but I know they’re planning a rebellion on The Capitol.

I sit on the edge of what is now my “bed” and stare straight through the cell bars in disbelief. There’s a cold feeling in my chest but that’s the only thing I feel. I was afraid for a moment, but now I’m not. I’m not sad or angry. I’m just… here, I guess. There’s nothing I can do.

What feels like an eternity rolls by and I’m sitting with my back against the cement wall and my legs kicked out on my “bed”, Sophie in the same position beside me. I lean my head back and groan, wishing I had some concept of time.

Footsteps echo down the hall. Probably just another guard doing his rounds. Sophie looks at me. “You’re not mad, are you?”

I shake my head. “Why would I be mad?”

“Not at me,” she says. “At Mason, maybe?”

I shake my head again. “I couldn’t be mad at Mason for this. I mean, yeah, he did something he knew shouldn’t have, but that shouldn’t have been illegal in the first place.”

She nods and as she’s about to speak again, our attention is grabbed by the sound of someone clearing his throat. Sophie’s older brother, Sam, stands in front of our cell with a stack of blankets and two pillows. Sam is a police officer here and he made sure he would be on duty tonight for the jailbreak mission.

“Sam!” Sophie exclaims, throwing herself down to the floor and hurrying over to him.

“I brought you your pillows and covers.” He hands them to her sideways between bars. “How the hell did this happen?” he asks her.

She sighs and looks to the ground. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” he says, “I overheard that they don’t want to put you on trial or kill you. They want to hold you here as bait for them to come again and catch all of you.”

I slowly lower myself off my steel bed and make my way over. “Wait, what? They’re holding us as bait?”

He nods. “I mean, at least they aren’t killing you.”

Sophie glances at me. “Yeah…”

“But what if they do come back for us?” I ask.

He looks at me with a half-hearted smile, the most joy we’ll get out of this situation. “I won’t let that happen.”

“What do we do until then?” I ask.

He quirks a small smile. “You and your brother a really similar, huh?”

I shrug. “Well, he is my brother. What makes you say that?”

“You both ask a lot of questions,” he says. “That’s a good thing, though. It’s good to ask questions. He was just asking a lot of irritating ones, though.”

I let out a soft, airy huff of laughter. “That’s Mason.”

He nods. “Oh, yeah. Learned that in the first thirty seconds. He’s a good kid, though.”

“He is,” I confirm. He’s certainly a pain in the ass, there’s no denying that. But he’s also a really great person, and there’s no denying that either. That’s why I’m fine being here instead of him. He’s set for things bigger than us both.

Sam grabs onto a cell bar. “Just hang out here, do everything you’re told, and we’ll get you out of here. I promise,” he says. He looks at Sophie. “I can’t stand around here talking to you or else that’ll raise suspicions, but I’ll come around again.”

“Thank you,” she mutters as he walks away. She turns to me, blowing out cheeks full of air. “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”

I don’t say anything. I just twist my lips to the side and turn back to my slab of steel. That really is something.

A few days pass and we’ve just been sitting here, thinking and talking. We got to know our cellmate a little bit. His name is Frank and he’s here because he was caught for committing four minor traffic violations. Three is the maximum number of minor traffic violations we can have. A fourth means execution.

He’s a nice guy. He ran a peach farm in the Cropper Division. It’s unfortunate that he has to go for such a minor thing. He’s already been tried. He’s just waiting to be shipped out to The Capitol now. That must be such a weird feeling. I can’t even imagine it. I don’t even wanna think about it.

I don’t know what we’re going to do about this situation. We can’t just sit here and hang out. We have to do something.

I look over at Sophie. “I feel like we should do something.”

She pushes herself to the edge of her steel bed. “What is there to do?”

I rest my head in my hand and groan. “I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to be used as bait. I don’t want to give them leverage. I especially don’t want to be their leverage.”

“I know,” she sighs. We’re quiet for a minute, and I think it’s mostly because we’re thinking the same thing. “We could…”

I finish her sentence. “Kill ourselves? How?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just an idea.”

Frank clears his throat. “I might be able to help you, but only if this is what you really wanna do.”

I glance at Sophie and she glances at me. She crosses her arms and leans forward with interest. “How?”

He stands up from his stool and reaches his hand across the underside of his steel mattress to reveal a small vile with two tablets inside that he had taped there. “These are cyanide tablets. I knew my arrest was coming so I smuggled these in just in case they ruled me an execution I didn’t want. They ruled me with a hanging, which I’m okay with. It’s quick, you know? If you want them, they’ll kill you instantly. Just bite down.”

Sophie puts her hand out and he places it in her palm.

“Well,” I say, “We’re not gonna do it now, are we?”

She shakes her head. She slides onto the floor and tapes it to the underside of her bed. “We’re gonna ask Sam for pens, paper, and envelopes the next time we see him so we can write notes to our friends and family. This way, they can understand and we can say goodbye.”

I take a deep breath. I hate that this is what we have to do, but we have to do it. “Okay.” I’m glad I get to write a note. I really need to tell Mason that none of this is his fault and that I don’t blame him. I know he’ll blame himself and hate himself forever, especially if I die. And I’m going to. I’m going to die.

A couple of days pass before we see Sam again. He approaches our cell and clears his throat like he did the last time. Sophie and I meet him at the bars.

“So,” he says. “I’m sure you’d be glad to know they all made it to the hideout safely.”

There’s a release of tension in my shoulders. They’re safe.

“Oh, good,” Sophie says, an relieved edge to her tone.

He gestures to the right with his head. “I have to keep going, but is there anything you girls need at all?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Sophie starts. “Would you be able to get us the materials so we can each write a letter?”

He looks from her to me. “Who are you writing to?”

“We just wanna write to them to let them know we’re okay and not to worry about us,” she lies. I nod along.

He sighs, “Okay, but we have to be really discreet about this.”

We both nod, whispering, “Okay.”

“Thank you,” I say.

He nods his head. “Anytime.” And he goes on his way.

He returns later after what feels like forever with two sheets of paper, two pens, and two envelopes. He drops them off and says he’ll be back in about an hour.

Sophie and I sit on the floor of our cell together, tears streaming down our faces as we write our goodbyes. Writing to Mason and my little sister is the hardest thing to do. I hate the thought of leaving my family behind, but they would do this for me.

When we’re done, we wipe our faces dry and seal our envelopes. I write a little H in the top right corner of my envelope and she writes a little S in the corner of hers. When Sam picks them up, he conceals them in his vest and keeps going.

As his footsteps echo away, Sophie mumbles. “I’m so sorry, Sam.” She turns to me. “So, do we wanna wait or just get this over with?”

“We have to do it now,” I say. “If he opens those letters and reads them right now, he’ll try to stop us.”

“Okay,” she whispers. She gets the capsule of cyanide out and opens it, emptying it into her hand.

She holds her palm up to me and I take one in between my index finger and thumb. This little thing. It’s so small but so deadly. This is the thing that is going to end my life.

Sophie takes a deep breath and I do the same. Her ocean blue eyes stare up at me. The last pair of eyes I’ll ever see. “Ready?”

I nod.

“Okay.” She grabs my hand. “One.”

“Two,” I continue.

We both pause for a moment and then together, we count, “Three.”

#fiction

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abbyeliseportfolio-blog · 6 years ago

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Twelve of Us

Every morning, I wake up to the same smells and sounds. The same salty aroma of the ocean, the same soothing symphony of waves crashing ashore. I thought that by now, I would be sick and tired of living on an island, but I can’t help loving it. There’s never a boring day on the island of Maui. There’s always something for me to do, always someone to be with. I don’t think I could ever be sick of it. In Hawaii, harmony and respect are the most important attributes throughout the community. I mean, the stuck-up tourists are one thing, but put that aside, Hawaii is the best place to be.

The muffled sounds of people socializing sounds through the wall of my room that overlooks the front yard. I take a deep breath, the smell of saltwater filling my lungs, and I open my eyes. My eyebrows furrow and I sit up straight, my heartbeat suddenly racing.

This is not my room.

This is some sort of miniature barn. The walls, the roof, the floor are all made of the same dark wood. Even the dresser and the bed, the only furniture in the room, are made of the same wood. This is not the room I went to sleep in last night. These walls are not painted lilac nor are they decorated with leis hanging from hooks or 2012 One Direction posters, which should've come down a month after they went up, but I’ve been too lazy to for the past five years. The dresser isn’t painted white or decorated in an array of jewelry I hardly ever wear. There isn’t a chair with a pile of folded clothes on it, which my mom has been begging me to put away for the past week. There isn’t a single mirror or seat in here. Where the hell am I? How did I get here?

I take off from the bed in a full sprint and out the door to what looks like a camping ground. I stop right outside the door where I’m surrounded by nothing but pine trees and other mini barns identical to the one I woke up in. The only difference between the others and the one I mysteriously ended up in, is the door on the barn I awoke in has Leilani carved into the wooden door. I refuse to call it mine. That is not my room. My room is in Hawaii. The voices I woke up to sound clearer, louder.

“Hello?” I shout as I run towards the sound of their conversation. “Who is that? Where am I?”

As I get closer, I hear a young, American male voice speak. “Hold on, hold on, guys… I think I just heard someone else. There’s someone else here.” I halt as he yells for me. “Hello? Is someone there?”

I swallow the large saliva build-up in my mouth and blink nervously before I respond, my voice shaking with the rest of me, “Yes, I’m here. Who are you?”

A group of three people approaches me. They all look around my age. In the front, there’s a tall white boy with shaggy brown hair who wears a plain white t-shirt and sweatpants. Behind him, stands a slim girl with blond hair and a pastel pink silk pajama set and a taller black boy who wears a pair of gym shorts and a Chicago Bulls t-shirt. The white boy smiles at me. “Hi, I’m Ian. I’m assuming you’re in the same boat as the rest of us,” he says, his voice matches the one I was shouting to.

I nod, “Yeah… I think so.”

“What’s your name?” he asks, his face welcoming and kind. He reminds me of one of the boys on my outdated One Direction posters, except he’s a lot more toned and somehow, at the same time, more baby-faced.

Hesitantly, I answer, “I’m Leilani, but you can call me Lani.”

“Well, Lani, welcome to the newest episode of Lost. I take it that you’re from Hawaii,” Ian observes. I must've appeared taken aback by his correct observation. His shoulders relax and he mumbles, “You look Polynesian, you woke up much later than the rest of us… your name was just the final piece that gave it away.”

I chuckle awkwardly. “Yeah, you got it. I take it that you’re from America. No idea what part, but you definitely have the accent.”

He laughs, the outer corners of his eyes crinkling, “Aspen, Colorado. My parents met in Texas, but they’re both really into skiing so they moved to a ski town.”

“Nice,” I remark plainly. It’s not that I don’t care, I just want to know how I got here, why I’m here, and how I’m getting off. “Does anyone here know how we got here or why?”

“Like I said, you’re in the same boat as the rest of us,” Ian responds. “Right now, we’re split into groups and we’re walking around to find clues or something to help us find out more about what’s going on right now. If you wanna join our group, you’re more than welcome.”

“How many people are here?” I ask.

“Well, as far as we know, twelve including you.”

The blond girl lets out a huff of frustration. “We’re not having much luck at all. I honestly think this is a dumb idea.” She has a thick English accent that would be difficult to understand if I didn’t spend hours watching British entertainment.

Ian rolls his eyes. “Well, if you don’t want to help us figure this out and get off this island, you can go off and figure it out on your own, but don’t come to me for any help.” He smiles at me and gestures to the girl. “This is Daisy, by the way. She’s a real delight.”

She turns to him, stomping her foot. “No need to be a prick. I just don’t want to be here.”

He closes his eyes as if he’s trying not to scream. He looks at her with an irritated light in his green eyes. “Do you think any of us do? Why don’t you just shut up, be nice to everyone since we’re all stuck here together, and help us figure this out?”

She clenches her jaw. “You’re really lousy with flirting, you know that?”

He holds tight fists at his sides. “I’m gay, sweetheart. I’m not flirting with you at all. I’m actually struggling to find something about you that’s likable.”

There’s a slight release of tension in my shoulders. At least I’m not stuck on an island with a bunch of straight people.

Her forehead creases as she pouts. “You don’t look gay.”

His eyes widen. “Well, I’m sorry. That’s totally my bad. Should’ve made it more obvious.”

“Guys,” the other boy snaps. “Can we stop with this and keep moving?” He turns to me with a soft smile. “Also, I’m Cody.”

I smile back. “Nice to meet you.”

“Cody’s right,” Ian says. “Enough of this nonsense. Let’s get back to searching.”

I walk in between Cody and Ian while Daisy lags a few feet behind us.

“I don’t think I’m as motivated to get off this island as I am to get away from her,” Ian mutters to us.

Cody chuckles. “I second that. How on earth did we get stuck with her?”

“If only there was a good enough answer for that question,” Ian adds under his breath.

We weave through a wooded area for a while, looking closely at the trees and the ground, finding no carvings or clues. Just as we’re about to give up, someone shouts, “Guys, we found something!”

The four of us look at each other for a brief moment before running towards the shouts. We find ourselves in an open field space with eight other people.

A girl with medium brown hair stands holding a wooden box in her arms. “We found this box on the ground by a tree in the woods,” she says in an Australian accent.

“Did you open it?” Ian asks.

She nods and places it on the ground, kneeling behind it and lifting the top off. “It has papers.” She pulls out a really thin stack of papers. She lifts the top sheet. “This is just a list of our names.” She places it beside her. “This just has the number twelve on it in really large text.” She puts that one down on the list of names. She holds up the last sheet of paper. “This looks like a map of the island.”

“Well, that gets us nothing,” Daisy complains.

“Not necessarily,” I say. “The twelve has to have some significance.”

“Yeah,” she snaps. “Twelve of us.”

“Today’s the twelfth of January,” the Australian girl adds. “It’s actually my eighteenth birthday today.”

“This is a real shitty birthday, then, huh?” Ian asks. She nods. His lips twist to the side. “Well, I was also born on the twelfth. Maybe that has something to do with it.” He looks around the group. “Was anyone here not born on the twelfth?” Everyone is silent and looking around. I was born on February twelfth so I can’t say anything. His face goes blank. He wasn’t expecting to be right. I mean, I wasn’t expecting that to be it either. “We were all born on the twelfth?”

Everyone slowly nods.

The boy with light brown skin and glasses adds, “Twelve of us born on the twelfth, twelve months in a year.”

Ian points to the Australian girl. “You’re January twelfth…” He looks around. “February, anyone?”

“Me,” I say.

We go around and discover everyone was born in a different month. We stand, looking around at each other, bewildered that we were right.

“So,” the Australian girl breaks the silence. “Do you think maybe we should try to track time? At least dates so we know how long we’ve been here and stuff.”

“I think we should,” Cody remarks. “But we can worry about that later. Right now, we should worry about survival. How are we gonna eat?”

“I don’t know if it’s the same for you guys, but there’s a box of food under my bed,” says a short, pudgy girl with short, dark hair.

“Oh,” Cody says. “I didn’t check under my bed. Did anyone else look?”

We all shake our heads except for the Australian girl who mentions she found a box of food under her bed, too.

“That’s good.” Cody nods. “So, we don’t have to worry about food for a bit if we know at least two people have boxes of food.”

“Wanna know what I’m worried about?” Ian asks. He points to a band-aid on his upper-arm. “Did anyone else here wake up with this? I feel like I got my flu shot. Just poking the general area feels like I’m getting punched.”

A taller, thinner girl in a hijab raises her hand. “I woke up with that, too,” she speaks in a Middle Eastern accent.

Ian raises his eyebrows at her. “You did?” She nods. He extends a hand to her. “I’m sorry, can you remind me of your name?”

“Amina,” she says sweetly, shaking his hand with hers.

A boy with dark ebony skin speaks up. His African accent is so thick I can barely make out the words he’s saying. “I also have it.” He lifts his sleeve to reveal the band-aid on his arm.

Ian nods slowly. “And you’re Rudo, right?”

The boy nods. “Yes, Rudo.”

Ian looks around the group of us. “Does anyone else have a band-aid on their arm?”

I look at my arms to double check. No band-aid. I shake my head.

Whoosh. There’s a sudden burst of light, heat, and screams as Ian, Amina, and Rudo are all simultaneously erupt into flames. We all run back, screaming in terror. I watch with one eye shut as the three of them burn. My heart is beating so fast I’m worried it’ll run out of my chest and into the ocean to settle down. Is this going to happen to all of us? Is this why we’re here? So we can randomly burst into flames and burn alive?

Whoosh. The flames die out in less than a second and the three of them stand perfectly fine. Not even a mark on them. We all stand with our jaws dropped and our eyes wide, trying to figure out what just happened.

Ian places his hands over his heart, first looking at Amina and Rudo and then at the rest of us. Choking up, he asks, “What the hell?”

#fiction

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abbyeliseportfolio-blog · 6 years ago

Text

The Interview

Act I

Scene I

SETTING: An average Monday morning in the le Kea

office. The new up and coming French furniture company with rows of cubicles filled with general murmurs across them. The sounds of phones ringing and keyboards clacking are interrupted by MS. SNIDER’S heels strutting across the tile floor.

AT RISE: KIM is found pouring MS.SNIDER a cup of

coffee, frantically before she enters her personal office. BRAD CHADLEY is found running into ANNA’S office while she’s preparing for their upcoming interview for a new hire, SAM WILHOUSKI.

NARRATOR

It’s an average Monday morning in the le Kea office, with the sound of general murmurs across the cubicles, phones ringing and keyboards clacking, the sound of Ms. Anna Snider’s heels panic Kim.

(PLAY HEEL SOUND)

(Kim panics)

(Freeze Frame - Kim holds up name card (huffs))

This is Kim, she works here.

(Kim begins to pour coffee for Anna)

As Kim begins to frantically pour Ms. Anna Snider’s coffee she approaches the receptionist desk.

(Anna Enters. Annoyed- grabs coffee aggressively (Folder in

hand))

(Kim continues to type)

(Freeze Frame) - (Kim holds up Anas name tag in front of

her)

Ms. Anna Snider, Top Dog at le Kea. A 33-year-Old woman with the jaded nature of a retired 67-year-old. Known for her ruthless business acumen, professional unprofessionalism, and aggressive passive aggression. As cold and unapproachable as the iron fist she rules the office with.

(Ana sits down at desk, begins to examine paperwork)

(Brad enters door, dropping items - disheveled)

BRAD

I’m here! I’m here! I’m here!

(Freeze Frame - Brad stops at receptionist desk)

(Kim holds up his name card)

NARRATOR

And this is Mr. Brad Chadley. President of his former frat, three-time beer pong champion, and Anna’s lackie. Only just graduating from Brewski University he takes orders from only two people: Anna and his mother.

ANNA

(rolls eyes)

What are you wearing?

BRAD

(looks at himself)

What? Come on! She won’t see my pants! I’ll be sitting at a desk right?

ANNA

Do you see a front cover on this desk?

(gestures to table with sass)

BRAD

I gotchu.

(pulls out sheet from bag and covers his desk)

(Kim enters as Brad is pulling sheet out of bag - begins to

start covering desk)

KIM

(Kim confused by the odd scene in front of her)

Ummm. Ms.Snider. You have an interview today.

ANNA

Thank you, Kim.

(waves Kim off)

Brad, really.

(rolls eyes - annoyed)

BRAD

(finishes cover desk - proceeds to sit)

See all better! I told you you wouldn’t see my pants!

ANNA

(rolls eyes again)

Okay. Anyway, can we get on the same page about this interview, please?

(Anna says impatiently)

BRAD

Yes, yes okay so what are we thinking?

Good cop, bad cop-type roles? I’ll be serious and write stuff down while you, ya know, ask all the difficult questions.

ANNA

Uhh okay, you’re right. If he’s anything like you, we aren't going through with this interview, though.

BRAD

What?! What’s the supposed to mean?

ANNA

Nothing, nothing. It’s just -

(Brad interrupts)

BRAD

You know what. I’m going to stay silent, and if need be, I'll make a noise or two to acknowledge you and him.

ANNA

Fine.

(Kim Enters)

KIM

Excuse me. Ms. Snider. They are here.

(Brad begins of panic)

BRAD

(Huffing)

Okay, serious face. Come on, Brad. You got this.

(Breathing Heavily - uses hand gestures to try and make serious face)

ANNA

Okay, seriously, Brad. Calm down, you act like you’ve never interviewed someone.

(Anna says annoyed)

(Brad still trying to get into part, breathing heavily)

(Kim enters as Sam follows behind her)

(Brad still scrambling - Anna trying to calm him down)

NARRATOR

(Kim holds up Sam’s name card - annoyed)

And this, ladies and gentleman, is the one and only Sam Wilhouski. Bright, cheery, and the right girl for the job… this job. With a master’s from Cornell University, she's ready and eager to get started. New to the harsh professional job market and not ready for these two.

(Anna and Brad both rise to shake her hand)

ANNA

(leans in and whispers to Brad)

I thought it was going to be a man.

BRAD

(grunts)

(Brad quickly looks, down realizing Sam can now see his

pants)

ANNA

(sticks hand out)

Good morning, Anna Snider, pleased to meet you.

SAM

Pleasure to meet you, Sam Wilhouski.

(Shakes Anna’s hand)

(Brad still standing - sticks out hand)

BRAD

(shakes Sam’s hand - grunts)

SAM

(Tilts head, confused by Brad’s grunting and the sheet over his desk)

(Everyone takes their seats - Sam places resume in front of them simultaneously)

ANNA

This is Mr. Brad Chadley, my assistant. Don’t worry about him, he’s better with papers anyway.

BRAD

(looks at resume, pushes it aside, pulls out coloring book (in a folder) + crayons)

SAM

(looks at Brad, again confused)

Okay…

ANNA

(cuts off Sam)

Sam. What an… interesting name. Is it short for anything?

SAM

(looks at Anna)

Oh no, it’s just Sam.

ANNA

Really? Are you sure your mother didn’t mean to call you... Oh, I don’t know, Samantha, Sammy… Samuel.

SAM

Isn’t Samuel a boy name?

ANNA

(Says casually)

Now you see my confusion.

SAM

Excuse-

ANNA

(cuts off Sam)

Well then… Sam, tell me a little bit about yourself.

(looks at a question list, looks at Sam)

Your qualifications? Experience? What makes you think you have a place here working in our wonderful le Kea corporation?

(pushes question list aside)

BRAD

(Grabs list and starts writing in it)

SAM

Well, I graduated from Cornell with a masters in Business-

BRAD

(grunts)

(pushes question paper to Anna)

ANNA

Cornell? Well...

(Reads questions, looks at Sam)

What sorority were you in?

SAM

Um… well, I never really joined one. But I was a member of Cornell’s Student Body Government and president of business and marketing team-

ANNA

So, no...

(looks at paper)

wild pledging stories?

SAM

No. In fact, pledging was severely reprimanded on campus.

BRAD

(smirks and scoffs) (grunts and continues coloring)

ANNA

Well, enough about that. You were talking about experience in the field?

SAM

(kind of on edge)

...I wasn’t-

(pulls herself back together)

While I was an undergraduate, I participated in multiple internships with various businesses- Small, up and coming ones and a few large, more prominent companies. And while completing my master's degree I was working as a team leader for various marketing projects at the Ithaca Silverworks Company-

ANNA

What were you earning in the position?

SAM

(a little shocked)

The expected wage? I was still a college student so that was where most of my assets went, but I had enough for the typical things like housing, food, clothes, and a couple hobbies-

BRAD

(loud grunt, Shows audience paper - points, smiles, nods head)

SAM

(very confused)

ANNA

(looks at paper again)

Interesting, and how much on shoes?

SAM

… shoes.

BRAD

(laughs quietly)

ANNA

Come on, we’re both women here, Sam. Just between you and me, how much did you put aside just for a new set of heels? We’ve all done it.

SAM

I don’t see how any of this has to-

ANNA

(waves hand)

Hobbies. You said you have hobbies. What do you do?

BRAD

(grabs paper again and writes in it)

SAM

I like hiking. When you live in a big city you don’t normally get to see wildlife that often, so getting away and walking the trails is a great break. I’m also not much of an art person, but I’ve been going to painting classes recently because why not try new things you know -

BRAD

(Looks up from his coloring book. Slowly goes back to

coloring)

SAM

And I guess I’ve been trying to -

ANNA

You said you live in a big city. Where?

SAM

. . . I don’t think I’m required to answer that.

ANNA

And why not?

SAM

Because this is supposed to be an interview about how I could benefit the company, not my current residence.

ANNA

We don’t like tardiness here, Sam. What if you’re late one morning? How am I supposed to know if it’s just a traffic issue or pure laziness? How long am I expected to wait for your eventual arrival?

SAM

That doesn’t change the fact that where I live is very personal. And if me being late is what you’re concerned about, I assure you that will most likely never happen. You’ll also have my contact information in case it ever does.

ANNA

You not answering this question is very unprofessional.

SAM

You asking that question is very unprofessional.

BRAD

(hold back a laugh)

ANNA

(Elbows him/glares at him)

(gets very serious)

What do you know about this company, Sam?

SAM

(gets serious as well (kind of like a standoff))

I know that it’s a new, up and coming French furniture company that has just recently decided to open international locations.

ANNA

And are you aware of what we expect from our employees?

SAM

Well, I would expect professionalism.

ANNA

Precisely. Because we believe an employee is a living representation of le Kea. Everyone has a role and it only takes one member of the workforce to ruin said image. Keeping that in mind, you’re aware of my concern now, correct?

SAM

(looks at Brad)

BRAD

(looks back. Flashes a peace sign. Goes back to coloring)

SAM

Of course.

ANNA

(stops being serious)

Great! Now, if you were an animal, which one would you want to be?

SAM

(shocked and confused)

What?

BRAD

(stops coloring and crosses his arms)

(grunts)

ANNA

(serious)

If you were an animal, which one would you want to be?

SAM

What does that have to do with-

ANNA

Are you refusing to answer another question, Sam?

BRAD

(shakes his head)

SAM

I don’t mean to, I’m just confused as to how that answer will determine-

ANNA

If a penguin walked through the door right now wearing a sombrero. What would he say?

SAM

I don’t even know how you expect me to answer that-

ANNA

We require our personnel to be able to handle situations that force them to think on their feet and quickly. And I must say, you aren’t performing very well.

SAM

Just a second ago you were interrogating me about where I live and now you’re asking random animal questions. Sorry if I’m confused-

ANNA

Miss Wilhouski, many of our employees are a bunch of young guys who put in long days. They’ve made their place known here in the office, and you know how boys are. Do you think you’re ready to be in that kind of environment?

SAM

(very confused)

What even are you trying to-

ANNA

You aren’t a nark, are you?

SAM

(horrified)

Excuse me?

ANNA

Brad doesn’t think you have what it takes to work this job.

SAM

He’s literally an assistant and hasn’t said anything this whole time.

BRAD

(grunt offendedly, crosses arms)

SAM

I’m sorry, but do you say anything other than (grunt)?

BRAD

(grunts mockingly)

SAM

Point taken.

ANNA

Is there a problem here?

SAM

(laughs)

Actually, you know what, yeah, there is. I came here today in the hopes of receiving a professional interview for a position I applied for, which by the way was never brought up, and all I got was [gestures around] this: what, 15 minutes of wasted time, sitting in a chair, and being mocked by a woman who insists she knows everything and some frat boy that doesn’t know the difference between an office and a frat house. So, instead of wasting more of everyone’s valuable time, I’m going to take the initiative here and leave.

(stands up, looks at Anna)

Miss. Snider.

(looks at Brad)

(grunts)

(turns to leave)

Have a good day.

(exit scene)

NARRATOR

Well, that didn’t go as planned. With Brad and Anna left in shock, Sam has left the building.

ANNA

. . .

BRAD

Well. That was a shit show. . . You do act like you know everything though-

ANNA

Shut up, Brad.

NARRATOR

Expecting a professional interview to give her a gateway into the business industry Sam was instead met with a closed minded preconception of a masculine identity. When she didn’t appear to have those standards the interview fell apart rapidly. Sam went on to fight for equal status in the workplace. Sam truly believed that no matter the identity we are all human and we should all have equal opportunities.

[End Scene]

#play

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abbyeliseportfolio-blog · 6 years ago

Text

A Day in the Life

I decided to take today off. One of my classes was canceled, the other one doesn’t take attendance, I don’t have work today… It seems like the perfect day to take a break. I can finally get to the library and get some writing done for the first time in what feels like decades.

I grab breakfast and make my way to the library, the feel of the bagel in the paper brown bag exciting me to really get a start on my day. As I’m walking in, I try to get my phone out of my jacket pocket, but the zipper is caught, and I can’t open it completely. Impatient, I force my phone out of the tiny opening I made in my pocket and my PopSocket gets caught and breaks. I try hard to repair it, but nothing I try works. This isn’t just any PopSocket. It’s my limited-edition Taylor Swift Popsocket. It sold out so quickly and I waited months for them to restock it just once more. When they finally did, I bought it and I was so excited when it finally came in. Now I have something subtle that I’ll always have with me to prove to people that I am the biggest Taylor Swift fan. Well, I don’t anymore because it’s broken. I couldn’t wait to try to fix my pocket before getting my phone and now my PopSocket is broken. I was so excited for today. It was gonna be a great day. I took a day off to work on my writing and now my Taylor Swift PopSocket is broken. How am I supposed to do anything now?

I decide to get a table and keep moving forward anyway. I take a big table. It’s meant for four people, but I need all the space I could possibly get. I need to take up the room to map out and plan what happens next in my story. I sit down in the seat by the window because it’s a sunny day and I like to see sunshine when working. I put my backpack on the seat next to me to take out my computer, my notebook, and my pens, but then I’m instantly distracted. My old PopSocket is in my bag. It’s in perfect condition and works great. All I have to do is replace the cover of the intact PopSocket with my Taylor Swift one. I know I can do that because I read about people doing it before, but I’m not quite sure how. I guess I’ll resort to YouTube and find a tutorial to follow. I set my computer aside and follow the tutorial on my phone. It’s done by a young boy, no older than ten. I can’t help thinking how much smarter he is than me. I don’t know much about this kid, but just from this video, I can tell he’s going places. I can’t figure out quite why I think this, but something about him is so well-spoken, mature, confident… he knows what he’s doing, he knows what he’s talking about. I am instantly relieved when my Taylor Swift PopSocket is restored. That was the shove I needed to create a masterpiece today.

I open my computer and pull up my document. NaNoWriMo ends tomorrow and I am almost where I need to be to win. I keep typing away and taking notes in my notebook. I’ll get there. About ten minutes pass and I’m typing away when the chair across from me at the table is pulled out. I look up expecting to see a friend I didn’t hear over my music or someone who needed an extra chair at their table to fit all their friends. He’s a young man, probably a year or two older than me. Curly brown hair, thin wire glasses… I don’t know him. I don’t even think I’ve seen him before.

He sits down. Directly across from me. At my table .

I seriously have no idea what to do. That’s just… not a normal thing to do, right? It’s like sitting down at a stranger’s table at a restaurant or getting into a stranger’s car in the parking lot. It’s just something people shouldn’t do. He isn’t even sitting diagonal from me either. He is directly across from me. I take out my phone, with my new and improved Taylor Swift PopSocket on the back, and send a text of distress and confusion to my group chat with my friends. They’re just as confused as I am. There are plenty of other seats and chairs around for this guy to sit. This library is filled with places to get work done. He had to sit down at my table? I wish I could get work done but I’m so bewildered by this guy. Who does this? And why?

I remain nonchalant as if this is a normal thing, as if I’m not literally screaming on the inside. I got ten minutes of work done and now my brain is preoccupied with something new. First, the PopSocket. Now, this guy. I shake it off and keep on working.

“Excuse me,” a soft male voice says. I look up and watch him stand up from his chair. He’s looking at me. “Would you mind just watching my stuff while I use the bathroom?”

“Yeah!” I chirp. Oh, my God. He’s asking me for favors now, too?

When he returns from the bathroom, everything is fine for the most part. I pretend he isn’t here and I continue working. Unfortunately, I don’t get to take up as much space as I’d like to, but I guess that’s fine. I’m still being productive. He leaves a little after an hour and I feel like I can breathe again. I laugh to myself with a hand covering my mouth. This has to be one of the most hilariously uncomfortable experiences of my life. Well, at least he’s gone.

I stay for about three more hours after that and I get a lot done. For the most part, the rest of the day is pretty normal. I get dinner with my friends, which was strange in all the ways that it should be. It would be even more strange if there wasn’t a bit of strangeness with them. We all sang Happy Birthday to my nana over the phone because she’s been a nana to all of them for the past year and a half, too. I love how close we all are.

When I go back to my room, I take a shower to cleanse myself of what has to be the strangest day ever. When I’m done and making my way out of the bathroom, I feel life switch into slow motion. My hairbrush, the only one I have, is falling out of my shower caddy and I can see exactly where it’s landing, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is gasp and watch.

It splashes into the toilet . And all I can do is stand there and stare in disbelief. My hairbrush is in the toilet. Nothing in my life before this has prepared me for what to do in this situation. What am I supposed to do when my hairbrush, my only hairbrush, is floating in a toilet?

I put down my shower caddy because there is only one solution I can think of. I take a deep breath and prepare to do one of the most undesirable things I could possibly do. At the speed of light, I reach my hand into the toilet, grab the brush by the handle, and shove it into the trash can. I run over to the sink where I was my hand for almost too long with a surplus of soap. You know, just in case.

Well, now that my hairbrush-in-the-toilet situation is taken care of, what am I gonna do about the fact that I don’t have a hairbrush? All I can know for certain right now is that tomorrow is gonna be a bad hair day, but there is no way it’s gonna get weirder than today.

#cnf

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