The Poem-A-Day Project

The Poem-A-Day Project started on a whim in September of 2011.

(BRIANNA and KATIE are two college students, walking back to their residence hall on September 1, 2011.  It's a beautiful day, and they're crossing a parking lot.)

KATIE:  Hey, you know that challenge where you write a poem every day for a month?

BRIANNA:  Yeah, that's crazy.  I don't know if I could do something like that, I'd probably give up the first week.

KATIE:  Yeah...

(pause)

BRIANNA:  Wait a minute...it's September 1st!  Wanna give it a try?

KATIE:  Yeah, okay!

On that day, it began.  Every day I put a poem in Katie's mailbox, and she became September's "Poem Keeper."

It didn't stop after September.

Each month I had a different Poem Keeper who I gave the month's poems to in order to keep myself from reading the poems and judging them in their rough and initially unpolished forms.  Poem Keepers could read the poems, but they couldn't talk to me about them until the end of the month when they returned the entire month's worth of poems and I read them from the perspective of never having read them before.

I thought I might stop after six months.  And then I thought maybe I would stop after I graduated from university.  Then I figured I might as well finish up the calendar year of 2012, but it didn't stop there either.

At this point, I've been writing one poem every day for almost two years, documenting my life and writing some really weird or fun things in a poetic form, and I have no idea if there's ever going to be a point at which I say that I'm done with this project.

What's in store for the Poem-A-Day Project now?  I'm looking for a way to bring my poems to the world.  At Printer's Row Lit Fest, I'll be at the table for Here's the Story with a gumball machine that'll dispense poems in little capsules.  And I'm working on putting together a manuscript of my favorite poems from the project.

Thanks for reading!  I'm always looking for tips, guidance, advice, or shouts of encouragement, so feel free to leave a comment, I will read them all!

"That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth, and you can hear some of the lines every time you breathe out."

- Andrea Gibson

Hoppy Easter to Every Bunny!

This is it!  It's Easter Sunday for those who celebrate it, and another Sunday before April Fool's Day for everybody else.  It's the end of Lent as we know it, and you know what that means.

No more promises of regular blog posts.

Because I'm a bum.

I'm also a bum who's totally kidding because I should be writing things consistently and not necessarily poetry.

Plus I'm a bum who has loyal readers.

Out there.

Somewhere.

Anyway...

There's one thing that I've always wanted.  A white Easter.  Forget snow-covered Christmas, I'll settle for snow on a day when little girls are forced to wear white Mary Janes and flowered dresses so they have to also be forced into their puffy pink winter jackets.  I want little white snowflakes flying around my head as I trek out to the car for Easter brunch with a friend.  I would love for an icicle to form.

I'm not sure when this wish was created, but I was thinking about it, and for the past four years I spent Easter at school because our spring break never overlapped with the holiday.  And my school is super pretty when it's covered in snow.  I highly doubt that Easter could muster a snow dramatic enough to make the campus look like Narnia as it does in the winter, but I would love for snow on Easter.  That'd be great.

If there's a way to request certain types of precipitation, I'd like to submit a form for a white Easter for the rest of my days.  That would make me very happy.  I mean, it's possible.  This is Illinois, and weather is weird, especially with "global climate change" and all that.  So there is the slight possibility that the air might just get cold enough to freeze whatever precipitation might be promised for this Easter.  I'm really hoping that that possibility is high, but considering the 41 degrees that I'm seeing right now, it's more likely to get warmer as the day goes on.  Mildly depressing for the idle snow-wishers, but hey, the people looking for sunshine and daisies might get their wish, so at least someone goes home happy, right?

"Hedwig didn't return until the end of the Easter holidays.  Percy's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent.  Both Harry's and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs, and full of homemade toffee.  Hermione's, however, was smaller than a chicken's egg."

-  J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Coffee Shop Pilgrimage

Q:  So what's going on?

A:  Not much, really.

Q:  Seriously?  That's the only answer you're going to give me?  This is going to be a really long blog post of nothing.

A:  Nah, it's just the normal stuff.  My need to catch up with Poem-A-Day things and my sudden interest in writing short fiction again.

Q:  Oh?

A:  Yup.  And my need to write in a coffee shop.

Q:  Well that's something you can write about.

A:  Yeah, I guess.

So in the town where I went to school, there were two coffee shops that were little independent coffee shops  with the wifi and the delicious baked goods, and of course, coffee.

See, the thing is I don't drink coffee.  I love the smell of it, but I can't really get myself to drink coffee.  Unless it's loaded with cream, and even then I'm not necessarily going to sit down and drink an entire cup.  I'm more of a tea person.  But the coffee shops in the town where I went to school were perfect for writing in.  My friend and I wrote a murder mystery show in one of them, and I wrote poetry and went on dates in those coffee shops.  Basically, these little independent coffee shops made my heart happy.  I love supporting local business, and I'm not really a fan of chain restaurants or things.

So even though I'm far away from these little coffee shops, I'm reluctant to go to Starbucks to fulfill my need to write in a coffee shop again.  I used to work in a cafe, and we loathed Starbucks.  For good reason.  And I'm not that impressed with Starbucks mochas [because that's all I really drink that's coffee-related].  Plus [and this is the biggest deal] Starbucks is a chain.  They're everywhere.

Unfortunately, small independent coffee shops are not everywhere.

This leads me to the conclusion that if I want to write in a coffee shop, I must write in a Starbucks.  They're easy to find, they're everywhere, and they will feed me food and expensive coffee drinks while I write poetry or the short fiction I've been playing around with.  Everything I could possibly want in life, right?  Sure.  Point being, this is my blog post to say that [for the moment], I am selling out and will be writing in a Starbucks.  If there's any way for me to find a small coffee shop within walking/easy bus distance from my apartment in Orlando, FL, I will be going to that instead...but as of right now...Starbucks it is.

This is also an attempt to get me into a regular writing pilgrimage routine.  So if possible, I can go to this Starbucks every Thursday and write until my heart's content, go home, feed myself, and feel really accomplished that I did something writing related.

I'm sure that this is all thrilling to hear, but I thought it was at least a little interesting...maybe?

"And the idea of just wandering off to a cafe with a notebook and writing and seeing where that takes me for awhile is just bliss."

- J.K. Rowling

Poems for a Year

It dawned on me.  While I was writing my Poem-A-Day for today.

On September 1, 2012, I will have written a year's worth of Poem-A-Days.  

366 poems, because 2012's a leap year.

And as I had my pen resting on the loose leaf which in turn was sitting on the grainy computer desk, I thought the very profound thought of, "That's a lot of poems."  Then my brain proceeded to melt inside its casing and ooze out every possible escape route out of my head.  Now I have gray matter to mop up and tease out of the keyboard, and I still have the realization that I'm going to have written over 100 poems.  Over 200 poems.  In fact, I will have written over 300 poems and be well on my way to writing 400.  And that's huge.  If it was all about quantity, I would be on the road to writing myself an eternity's worth of poems.

The real truth of the matter is that it's actually about quality.  I'm not going to say that I think all my poems are awesome.  And I'm also not going to say that I think they're all trash.  Most of them are somewhere in the middle, and with revision, they can definitely be either "okay" or "superb."  Point being, I've got a lot of material to work with, and that thought is overwhelming.  I may never have to write an original poem again... And even after typing that, I realize that it's not true.  Of course I'm going to write more poems.  I'm not just going to say "These 366 are it, I'm never writing anything new ever again," because that would put me in a terrible place when I'm far away from the college life and I'm still revising poems about graduation stress.  So for the sake of keeping myself out of a time vortex, I will still write poetry even after this Poem-A-Day Project is done.

So I'll be done with this Poem-A-Day Project.  I realize that the year is a little illogical based on the fact that it goes along with the school year rather than the regular calendar year that normal people use, but part of me is alright with that.  The other part of me wants to call it Poem-A-Day 2012 and get it over with.  You know, just keep writing until January 1st.  I'm playing with this idea, I haven't decided yet.

And then there's another part of my oozed puddle brain that asks, "Are you going to keep going?"  Will I just keep writing one poem per day and keep going until some undetermined date?  Is there enough paper for that?  Should I change my system somehow?  Maybe I could use recycled paper instead?  Or my recycled notebooks....hm.  Should I keep going?  There are definitely perks to keeping up with the Poem-A-Day Project because it gives me some reliable way of expressing myself.  I know that if I have something that's on my mind, I can sort it out in a poem, or rant about it in poetic form.  And I still have so much to learn when it comes to imagery and form and making my poems actually sound pretty in addition to being silly.  It's been nice writing these poems during my last year of college because it gave me a way of remembering what was on my mind at the time I was writing that poem and what I was stressed or excited about.  I can look back and get right back into that mindset.  The cons all revolve around resources.  For paper and pens (because let's face it, are there really enough pens and paper in the world to sustain a Poem-A-Day Project for a Brianna who will live until who knows when?).  For ideas.  This is the biggest problem with my being at home this summer.  I don't see a lot of people outside of my family, and I don't get out very often, so I don't see a lot of new things.  So my poems are either really odd or really dumb because they're about the same eight things that I always write about when I'm at home.  And there's nothing really new going on.  Although when I start the job search...there will be plenty of material and ideas there, there have just gotta be.  And then there's my five month stay in Orlando, FL for the Disney College Program.  That HAS to be a goldmine for creativity.

So it's coming up, the end of one year's worth of poems for Brianna.  Will she continue till January?  Will she continue until some undetermined date?  Or will she just stop and call it a year?  The answers to come soon...

"I've written some poetry I don't understand myself."

- Carl Sandburg

I Will (Not) Miss Living in a Residence Hall

1.  I will not miss sharing a bathroom with 20 some odd other girls.
2.  I will not miss my next door neighbor singing opera at all hours of the day and night.
3.  I will not miss the boys on the floor below me blasting their rap music and yelling at video games.

4.  I will miss the programs and the bulletin boards.
5.  I will miss having an excuse to cover my door with my name.
6.  I will miss dancing in the lobby to "Build Me Up, Buttercup."

7.  I will not miss stupid people.
8.  I will not miss washers that explode.
9.  I will not miss drunken people stumbling down the hallways.

10.  I will miss the fellowship created amongst RAs who all have to deal with the same stupid people year after year.
11.  I will miss having a close enough relationship with my boss that I can rant and cry in her office and not feel awkward.
12.  I will miss having Desk Aides to rant to and their looks of bewilderment when they have no idea what I'm talking about.

13.  I will not miss random strangers following me into the building.
14.  I will not miss stains on the couches and needing to report said stains.
15.  I will not miss the people who leave the TV on in the lounge.

16.  I will miss having a friend down the hall who I can bother on a daily basis.
17.  I will miss piling into one person's room to watch a movie.
18.  I will miss rolling on my tile floor.

19.  I will not miss sweeping up broken glass.
20.  I will not miss the oodles of flyers that I have to find somewhere to post in the lobby.
21.  I will not miss people posting their own flyers on the front desk and in the elevator even after the million times I've moved them.

22.  I will miss the conference room and weekly meetings that are a lot more fun that I could have anticipated.
23.  I will miss using my mailbox as a storage compartment.
24.  I will miss being an RA.

Shakespeare and Boccaccio

Q:  So what are you up to nowadays?

A:  Well.  I'm sitting around worrying about The Future, spending time worrying about my business stats test instead of actually attempting to start studying for it, agonizing over my management "double-weighted" quiz that'll be on the same day as my stats test, and then I'm thinking a lot about Shakespeare.

Q:  That's nothing new, you might as well stop typing now.

A:  Yeah okay.

So I have a paper for my Shakespeare class.  I'm going to write it on Cymbeline, which I'm really excited about because it's a really weird play.  Not even the critics really know what to do with it because no one really knows what genre it belongs in.  Our book classifies it as a romance, so that means there's going to be love and shenanigans, no one's going to die, and everyone's going to live happily ever after.  Right?

Wrong.  There are at least two deaths, one of them being a suicide and the other one featuring a headless body that stays on stage for a little bit to cuddle with the female lead.

I also have a huge problem with the play being called Cymbeline after a secondary character because I'm still trying to figure out what his significance to the play is.  Mostly because I've given myself permission to not think about him up until now.

But I'm writing my paper about women.  And Shakespeare's source material.  Because it's a little known fact to people who know Shakespeare's stories but aren't familiar with the history behind them that Shakespeare never really came up with his own plots.  Due to copyright laws being nonexistent in Shakespearean times, he could pick and choose plots that struck his fancy from other people's works, and no one could say a word about it.  Better than that, if people recognized the source material they could gloat and talk about how clever they were that they actually knew where the plot came from.

A large part of Shakespeare's plot for Cymbeline centers around a wager that Posthumus (what a horrid name) makes with Iachimo based on the chastity of Posthumus' wife.  Because yes, you can be chaste when you're married.  So this plot actually came from Giovanni Boccaccio's The Decameron, which I learned through a very quick Google search while my school's library website wasn't working for me.  It's interesting that in the original story, the character upon whom Posthumus is based brags about how his wife possesses all of the best virtues that a woman can possess, and additionally the virtues that a knight or squire might possess.  Whoa, crazy!  I'm not sure if Shakespeare keeps this comparison, but if he doesn't, this is going to be perfect for my paper.  It's interesting that Boccaccio would go so far as to allow a character to bestow the virtues of a man upon his wife because I highly doubt that Boccaccio was a feminist in the contemporary sense.  Maybe he's saying that to show how absurd the character's bragging is.  "Anyone who would think to claim that women have the same virtues as men is clearly addled."  This seems plausible.

So it begins.  My lovely to do list unfolds:
- study for business stats in any manner possible
- study and read for management, pray that the questions aren't absurd
- write a paper for Shakespeare
- critique fiction

"I thought her

as chaste as unsunned snow."

- William Shakespeare, Cymbeline, 2.5

A Major Challenge

So at my school there's a conflict between Business majors and English majors.  I'm not sure the Business majors know the disdain we harbor for them, but we do.  Because we don't understand why they're studying what they're studying.  I know enough English majors who dislike Business majors enough that even if you're a double major...you get teased.  I'm just a minor...this should be better, but it's not.  I wrote this poem and submitted it to my campus' literary magazine, and it got in!  :^)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Major Challenge (rough draft)

(September 29, 2011 from the Poem-a-Day Project)

 

Says the Business major

to the writer:

“What are you going

to do?”

Well.

I’m going to work,

make money,

retire.

I’ll work in some business

that makes things

I don’t understand.

I’ll sit at a short desk

and push papers

till my paper pusher

pushes back.

I’ll work in television,

write snappy quips

in the first draft

and revise them out

before filming

but encourage the actors

to improvise.

Or maybe Hallmark,

writing the insides of cards

for Arbor Day

because paper cards

make sense for a tree day.

I’ll travel around the world

taking pictures

of people’s elbows,

and when I’m done,

I’ll journey to the moon.

Don’t believe me?

I’m serious.

I’ll paint my face

and study mime,

trapping myself

in a glass box

with a trapdoor

I can’t see.

Or collect pencil

shavings and sell them

on EBay.

I’ll make more money

than the Jesus toast.

Says the writer

to the Business major:

“What kind of business

are you in anyway?”

Posted for Poetry Pantry #94 from Poets United.

Poetry Friday -- Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf

This Wednesday there was a themed poetry slam at my school organized by our performance poetry group.  The theme this time came off of the list of ideas that I sent ages ago, and it turned out to be "fairy tales."  Which was perfect for me because I love fairy tales.  Almost more than life itself.  Unfortunately, due to unforeseen and stressful circumstances, I was unable to write my very own fairy tale poems so I could participate in the poetry slam.  So...I just read during the open mic and I read this lovely poem by Roald Dahl called "Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf."  It's kinda awesome, which is why I chose to talk about it on this Poetry Friday.

Thank you, Google!

First of all, this poem rhymes.  Now I'm not usually a fan of rhyme unless 1) you are Dr. Seuss, 2) you're writing for children, 3) you're Moliere and this is Tartuffe OR 4) it's so well done that I don't even notice that it rhymed until after I'm done reading it.  Because Roald Dahl is neither Dr. Seuss nor Moliere, that leaves us at either writing for children or well done rhyme, both of which I believe this poem falls into.  Sure "Grandmamma" and "caviar" are more of a slant rhyme than a true rhyme, but the rest of the end rhymes help move the poem along.  The rhyme in this poem also goes hand in hand with the rhythm.  The rhythm is really a quite bouncy one which helps the poem move in a kind of sing-song fashion, which is fitting for the subject matter and the story that's being presented.  In fact, if this poem didn't use this type of rhyme or rhythm, it might sound odd or more foreboding, far less cheery.  Although foreboding would also be appropriate what with the talk of eating children, but that's beside the point...

Another thing that I noticed which I talked about last week in "Initiation" is the use of dialogue.  Dahl uses quotation marks and dialogue tags to signal when he's using dialogue, which is a tradition of fiction.  For instance, "And Wolfie said, 'May I come in?'"  Dialogue is absolutely essential in this poem in order to follow the "show, don't tell" rule and because of the traditional, "What great big ears you have, Grandma" that goes along with Red Riding Hood regardless of what version you're reading.  (Okay, so there are different versions, and maybe it's not exact, but we're not going there today.)  When reading this poem aloud, it's really easy to take on different voices for characters such as the wolf and Little Red because the dialogue tags alert the reader to who the speaker is going to be.  And who doesn't love a deep-voiced raspy wolf to chat with a high pitched and cheery Little Red?

This poem does a good job of riding the line of the traditional Red Riding Hood story before twisting it.  After Little Red makes all her usual observations, she says, "But Grandma, what a lovely great big furry coat you have on."  The wolf breaks the pretense of the poem by saying, "That's wrong!... / Have you forgot / To tell me what BIG TEETH I've got?"  This is particularly interesting to me because though the character doesn't explicitly acknowledge that he's a part of a story, he does acknowledge the original story by chiding Little Red for straying from the "script."  It's definitely one of the most fun things about this poem that the wolf corrects Little Red.  But Little Red strays so far from the script that she "whips a pistol from her knickers. / She aims it at the creature's head, / And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead."  And then we're left with a feisty Little Red in a wolfskin coat.  This departure from the original tale is plausible enough that the reader doesn't just throw the poem to the ground in disgust, and interesting enough that it retains the reader's attention and even earns the approval of the reader.  In short, what this poem does, it does very well.

PROMPTS:
1.  Write a rhyming spin-off of a traditional fairy tale.  Keep in mind rules of rhythm and rhyme, and try not to use lame rhymes if you can help it.  Think "Grandmamma" and "caviar"...
2.  Use some dialogue if you haven't already.  Signify it with italics or quotation marks, but probably not both.
3.  At the very end of this poem, the storyteller references himself (we're going with the masculine pronoun because of Dahl...) as "I" who ran into Little Red in the wood.  Write something in which the narrator appears in the action but as an observer or a commentator after the fact.
4.  Write about wolves.  Or what if the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood was actually...a bear?  Or a leopard?  What would happen then?
5.  Write this story from Granny's perspective.

"The small girl smiles.  One eyelid flickers.

She whips a pistol from her knickers.

She aims it at the creature's head,

And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead."

- Roald Dahl, "Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf"

Goblets of Fire

On another note, I made door decs for my RAs this semester.  In keeping with my Harry Potter theme, I made Goblets of Fire:

I made the goblets out of brown foam (because the book says that the goblet is made out of wood) and used gold glitter glue to make it look more goblet-like.  The blue flames are made of white, pale blue and dark blue tissue paper cut into flames.  I used Scotch tape to attach the layered flames to the back of the goblet.  The name is written in a font called Big Mister C because I wanted it to look like handwriting, but I didn't want to write them all out myself.  So there you have it!  Goblets of Fire to make all my RAs Triwizard Champions!

The First of the Lasts

Yesterday was the first day of spring semester of my senior year.  I was reminded of this multiple times throughout the day, and I'm still in denial.  When I say I'm in denial, I mean that I'm really deep in denial as in upon mention of graduation, I squeak, cover my ears, yell at the speaker, or leave the room.  I can't handle it, and I don't believe that all my classmates are as okay with it as they appear to be.  There's no way they're all that certain of what's going on or going to happen.  Or maybe they are and I'm just overestimating the anxiety change can create in a person.  Or I'm projecting.

So it's true.  I'm going to have to start coming to terms with the fact that my schooling is nearly over.  After spending the majority of my life in school every fall, winter, and spring with summers off, I'm going to be free. Free, bored, and potentially employed.

But I'll have time to read.  And I'll have time to write.  Because I won't have homework to worry about.  I won't have bulletin boards to make, I won't have meetings to go to on my own time...
There are so many perks about the possibility of a life outside of school, but I still can't convince myself that anywhere and anywhen is better than the here and now.  I don't know what I would be like if I hadn't come here for school and if I hadn't applied to be an RA.  What if I had just gone to work straight out of high school?  Some people do that, what would it be like if I had done that?

So I'm giving myself an assignment of sorts.  I'm giving myself this week.  This week and weekend I'm allowed to worry about The Future, pretend it's not going to happen.  Come Monday, I will begin coming to terms with The Future.  I will start making to do lists that pertain to The Future, and I'll procrastinate by applying for jobs instead of playing on Facebook (ha, like that's going to happen...).  Next week.  I don't want to do the "this is our last first day of school" thing.  It's depressing.  I'd rather focus on the hope of The Future.  The hope for an adventure and security.  No "lasts" for me, just "firsts."

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." 

- "Closing Time"

Remember Remember...

My November bulletin board

On a note completely unrelated to The Future...I'm required to make a bulletin board each month for my job. I have to cover this gigantic mammoth sized bulletin board with information and fun things.  I'm trying to keep my boards related to British things because my hall theme is Harry Potter...  So for November, I made a board about Guy Fawkes Night.  Mostly because I really enjoy V for Vendetta and I wanted an excuse to learn more about where it came form originally.

The board includes:
- The Conspirators (of The Gunpowder Plot)
- The Plot (reasons behind it, etc.)
- Impressions on Pop Culture (which gave me an excuse to talk about V for Vendetta)
- Lasting Impressions (Bonfire Night, etc.)
- Comics and pictures featuring Guy Fawkes or related things

A Letter to Conflicts

Dear Conflicting Events,

Hi, hello, I'm Brianna.  You probably know me already.  I'm over-involved.  But this isn't about me.

Anyway, I'd like to take a moment to congratulate you on the number of events that you're holding on campus!  Really, it's awesome that you've got so much going on!  There's movies, speakers, game shows (though I typed "shoes" the first time, game shoes...hmm...), dances, programs...you've literally got a sampling of just about everything that's good in life.  You've even got free food.  And what college student can pass up free food?  What human being can pass up free food for that matter?

With so much going on, it's a wonder that you keep it all straight.  There are Facebook events, flyers, there's the campus event calendar, the planner...sometimes I wonder about who's responsible for creating all of these things and I wonder if it's all the same person, because I notice some inconsistencies.  Especially in the student planner versus just about everything else.  I swear whoever puts together the planner gets a totally different calendar than everyone else.  Which probably doesn't do much for their self-esteem.  Which is sad and depressing.

My problem is that I have friends.  That's not really a bad problem to have, but it becomes a problem when my friends are involved in planning things.  Or organizing things.  Or performing in things.  You get the idea.  It's a problem because I have friends that are just as involved as I am.  So I'm obliged to go to their events.  And they're fun events, don't get me wrong, but there are also eight other events going on at the EXACT same time that I want to go to as well.  Which makes me want to be able to split myself off into eight separate parts so I can be at all places at once.

And though that would be really cool, part of me wonders if that's just a little too much like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  Or cloning.

And I'm not really sure how people would react to that.

Plus I'm nice.  I like being there for people.  I like lending support.  And I like going to events.  I generally like people.  I say generally for a reason, but this post is not the time to explain that one.  But yes.  I generally like people, and people go to events, and I get to see them, and I have fun, and it's great.  But I inevitably have to say "no" to one person if I say "yes" to another.  And that pains me.  Because occasionally I'm a good person.  I don't really like disappointing people.  Not that I think that there are people out in the world who think, "Hm.  Who can I disappoint today?  I quite enjoy disappointing people..." but you understand what I'm saying.

Conflicting Events, can't you just create a wormhole so I can see into all the different events at the same time? That way I don't have to clone myself or split my soul or anything painful like that.  And everyone's happy!  Right?

Much love,
Brianna
The Over-Involved One

Question Saturday

Q:  What's your interpretation of a recent dream you had?

A:  One of my keys was bent in half.  My RA key.  I would say that has something to do with my apprehensions about my job and fulfilling expectations to the best of my ability.  Performance evaluation this week, so...yeah.

Q:  Why do you think people say someone's "bananas"?

A:  Because saying that they're "kiwis" is weird?

Q:  Why is it important to be genuine?

A:  Because the alternative is so difficult.  If you spend all your time lying about who you are, what you like, where you're from, etc., it's just difficult to keep all the lies straight, and then if you figure out that the person you've been ingenuine towards is someone you actually would rather be genuine with....it would just be way too complicated to straighten out all the deceptions.  Besides, would they like your genuine self?  All sorts of complications there.  Being genuine's just easier.

Q:  What happens in the latest movie you saw?

A:  The latest movie I saw was Puss in Boots, and I would tell you about it...but it hasn't been released in theatres yet.  (Spoilers...)

Thank you to IWU Homecoming for giving us the chance to see Puss in Boots before it's official release!

Q:  What was your major in college?  How did you choose it?

A:  English Writing.  I knew I wanted to do something with writing.  At least, I was pretty sure.  It was a toss up between creative writing and theatre.  At some point in second semester of my freshman year I spent the majority of my time explaining my actions with "and that's why I should be an English major..." so I declared an English major because it was simple, natural, and it just felt like the right thing to do.

"Write a lot, but read even more."

- Amanda Hocking

Even More Things I've Learned

Today is a good day.  It's also a spectacularly good day for writing a list.  So here we go!

More Things I've Learned:

• Carry a fork.  It's good for eating ice cream, pudding, and eggs.  All in the same day.
• The Kool-Aid jammers (or whatever they're called) will not tell you where they're made/manufactured.  You will be convinced they come from China.
• Do not kid about buying alcohol for the underage resident of the underage RA who's with you at the time...
• There will be a question of coincidence versus fate when you pick up that trashy romance novel to find the name of a person you know in the synopsis.
• The cashier at Target will question your intelligence.  You will resent this because you go to the better school in town.
• The answer is always "pretend you like someone else" if someone's creeping on you.
• Ukulele on a porch swing?  Always yes.
• I've got the moves like Jagger.  Sometimes.
• My favorite fall jacket is eerily similar to my boyfriend's.  Although his probably doesn't have a hole in the pocket.
• Nothing in "Go Getter Greg" was planned...naaaah....
• Kyle just wants to dance.
• I am only semi-cliche.  (Teddy bear with a butter knife.)
• Hugs in parking lots.  That's it.
• Drinks that are neon-colored are delicious.  And taste like Kool-Aid.
• "I'll have a shot if she does."  Challenge accepted!
• Some contacts are frightening.
• Yes, you can make a scene in Target.  And Kroger.  And Jewel.
• Bats don't like being woken up and will not "glide" if you drop them in the bushes.
• Seize every "loppertunity" and push down dead trees.
• Hang out in the kitchen and you will get fed cookies.
• The Brat Stop is terrifying.
• River Song is only slightly better than I thought she was.
• Notes are always better and more educational if you write them in pretty pen.
• The first time you use your disappearing TARDIS mug, you will use it to eat vanilla ice cream (from goodness only knows how long ago) with a fork.
• You will wake up after a night on the town with a strange craving for greasy food.
• I have written over 40 poems as part of my poem-a-day project (and I have just realized that this can be made into the PAD project.  I'm not sure how I feel about this.)
• It doesn't matter how determined you are to "work" on Fall Break Day, you will spend the majority of your time travelling around town, ranting to your friend in a sorority house, and worrying about the work you need to get done.

That's all I've got for now, we'll see if I can learn more things before the end of this weekend!

"Personally, I'm always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught."

- Winston Churchill

Clue Night

After all the hard work on the script, organizing people, advertising, and all that jazz (although I only really helped substantially with the script), International Clue Night will take off tomorrow night.

So there are a couple really cool things about International Clue Night.  For me, one of the first cool things is working with my friend to write the script.  I helped write last year, so we kind of knew how the other one worked when we came to the process this year.  What made this year so different is that Family Weekend is so early (and that's when Clue takes place).  It's this weekend.  Usually it's late October.  So basically we had a lot less time to work.  But that meant that we got to spend a TON of time together working on the script.  And no joke, plotting out this script was SO much fun!  This friend and I play really well off each other, and we're really good at asking each other questions when something doesn't make sense.  We took a good long time outlining the plot before we even thought about writing the script or describing characters, and that was because of how Clue Night works.  It's mostly because we need to make sure we know everything about the mystery even if the audience doesn't know everything.  We also need to make sure that we know what's getting revealed when, and that it all works and makes sense.  Lots of thinking of "motives."

The most common motives that I could think of were:
- money
- revenge
- blind rage
- jealousy
- insanity

And you can only use those so many times.  So thank goodness I wasn't alone, or the plot would have been so linear and boring.  I really enjoy my friend, she's a truly brilliant writer, and it's an amazing experience to be able to work with her!

AND this year I get to act.  I acted my sophomore year as the CEO's daughter who was about to succeed her father as CEO and change the entire company into an environmentally radical company.  I was part of the reason my father ended up dead.  Oops.  I also got to do the big "reveal" at the end of the show, explaining about how clever I was and how I figured out that China was the murderer.  Well, China the representative...
Last year I was out of town for a conference, so I couldn't act, but I did help write.  The daughter was the killer that year...
And as I was saying...this year I get to act.  And I'm Switzerland, the land of cheese, chocolate, and knives... Needless to say, I'm absolutely thrilled.  I haven't acted in ages (as I've said in blog posts gone by...), so it'll be good to get back "onstage," and even better because of how unique this show is with regards to audience interaction and the like.  SO exciting!

The Motorist: Where is it?

Wadsworth: What?  The body?

The Motorist: The phone.  What body?

Wadsworth: There's no body.  Nobody.  There's--there's nobody in the study.

- CLUE (the movie)

More Things I've Learned

Sure, I posted today at 12:30 AM, but I feel like I should make up for being negligent on this blog...and this is my life.  So more things I've learned.

• Spree = roofies, but first years are more observant than you might want them to be when you're "having fun" roofie-ing them...
• Acting drunk in a first year hall should be saved until second semester so you don't get handed a "What's a Drink?" pamphlet with the promise that "this is an intervention."
• If your friends are in the novel-writing class, and you offer to read their work, they'll really let you read it.  And they'll ask for feedback.  What more could I ask for?!  I love it!
• Writing a poem every day helps maintain sanity in business classes.
• Too much to do.
• Cell phone alarms will keep me on track until I forget to enter an event in my phone's calendar.
• It's possible to crank out a script for a murder mystery in 13-ish hours.  After initial outlining and preparations, of course.
• Don't Panic.
• Prostitute posture.  The end.
• "Some people find it charming."
• Late night texting makes sleepless nights infinitely better.
• If you can design flyers, people will ask you to.
• First years will let complete strangers into the building and they will camp out in the conference room to do their homework.  (Really?  Go to the library, sophomores!)
• I will always be the last one to know anything.
• If you spend enough time in a building that you don't officially live in, the residents will adopt you and let you into the building without asking questions.  (Thanks, Kemp!)
• If you want to print something in color, ask you friend for the password to his computer before breaking into his room.
• None of the printers in weird places on campus will work if you're trying to make life easier for yourself.
• My hair does weird things.
• If you ask someone "Are you a writer?" the most common responses are "Kind of..." or "I'm not very good..."
• A Pandora station based on "Rhapsody in Blue" is exactly what I needed.

I Meant to Write...

And that was when my pen ran out of ink...

Just as I was about to write that letter to you that I promise I've been meaning to write.  I mean, your letter's only been sitting next to my computer for about two weeks now, and I still haven't found the time to write back.  Maybe it's because I'm lacking in bright colored paper at the moment.  I'll have to scurry off to ORL to steal--I mean...redistribute some paper into my personal stores.

Just as I was about to write that poem.  I should probably have written it earlier, especially with all that free time I had in my accounting class.  And I had a really great idea too, about a nerdy Romeo and Juliet type thing.  It was going to be really funny.  Okay, well, maybe.  You might have chuckled.

When I really had to write down the assignment for my marketing class.  And notes for the murder mystery that I was helping with.  But that's alright, I have another--no, wait.  That pen's out too.  Two of my favorite pens, the Bic "crystal" black pens.  I love those pens.  They never run out!  I swear I still have one of them from my freshman year.

Right before the cops stopped me and demanded that I sign away my soul on a burrito wrapper.  I'm not quite sure what they were planning on doing with my burrito-smelling signature, but as it is...they couldn't have it.

Just as I was considering what black ink would taste like.  It was a sign.  I shouldn't try to drink ink.

Just as I got a great idea for a cure for the common cold.  I'm pretty sure it would work this time, I just need to add woolly socks to the mechanism that I already have in place.  The one made out of old paper clips, pencil shavings and used Post-It notes.  It's going to be big!

Right before life threw me a lemon.  So I couldn't even stab the thing and make it bleed inky droplets of lemony goodness.

Just as I was writing---

Crisis Response

I knew this was going to be the most difficult part of my job.
And I knew this was going to be the part of the job that would kick my butt.

As an RCA, I'm required to take a certain number of all-campus "primary duty" nights.  Which means I get to carry around a gigantic set of keys, a magical messenger bag, and the Phone of Death.  These duty nights are weekends.  Now anyone who has ever lived on a college campus knows that the most excitement happens on weekend nights.

And every RA knows that if they can't handle something, they need to call Primary.  Which means that the Phone of Death goes off with its evil ringtone that strikes fear into even the most steel-hearted RCAs.  And for Brianna, that means that nerves get frayed, and sleep is lost.  The last time the phone rang it wasn't even a crisis, but I can almost promise that I won't be able to sleep the rest of the night because I'm terrified that that phone's going to go off.

I'm supposed to respond to crises.  And I'm trained to do that.  But when I get into a situation in which I'm supposed to be cool, calm, and collected.  Nope.  Silent.  Frozen.  Panicked.  Which is horrible for the RA that you're responding to because they're looking to you for some comfort and support.  And I can give them that, but I'd much rather give them a hug instead of going in gung ho about an alcohol violation in the residence hall.  I mean, I can do that too, but can we hug first?

So I'm scared.
Really scared.
And tired.
And my head hurts.
And I'm generally miserable, but I'm supposed to be going to brunch with friends in about eight and a half hours.  I'm trying not to think about the homework that I should do tomorrow.  In addition to all my other obligations tomorrow.  Basically I'm doomed.

I'm really tempted to pass out.
And if I could, I would.
But the Phone of Death haunts my waking nightmares.
And it just won't lull me to sleep.  

Poetry Friday -- Pole Dancer

This Poetry Friday I’m going to be looking at Andrea Gibson’s “Pole Dancer.”  Mostly because it was suggested that I look up Andrea Gibson’s poetry, and also because I feel like listening to poems rather than reading them today.  Strangely enough, after listening to a couple of Gibson’s poems, I realized that I had heard them before.  Which was silly because I’ve never seen Andrea Gibson perform, I’m pretty sure I would remember.  And then I realized that it’s because some of her poems are in this book of slam poetry I have called Junkyard Ghost Revival.  So it’s the best of both worlds today because I get to listen to “Pole Dancer” and also refer to it in this book.  Occasionally I’m clever like that.

First thing I’d like to compliment about this poem is the voice.  Andrea Gibson has the unique ability to combine contemporary imagery with meaningful sentiment and humor.  It’s truly amazing how Gibson manages to say so much and mean even more in this poem.

I LOVE the stanza about crocheting a scarf and pinning a note to it, mostly because of Andrea’s spot on delivery.  You could not add more humor to that collection of lines if you tried.

Her use of story is interesting because she tells little snippets rather than plowing right through a single storyline.  She explains about crocheting the scarf, counting freckles, and now that I look at it, those are the only two snapshots that I can find, but both focus on the body in a truly romantic way.  Plus both are laden with Gibson’s spectacular imagery.

Gibson also uses triples to her advantage.  Not always for comedic effect, but most of the time to emphasize or round out imagery that would be strange if there was only one part to them.  The one that sticks out most to me is the triple that includes comparisons to “popcorn at a drive-in movie,” “Batman and Robin,” and “Pac man in the eighties.”  I especially appreciate the pop culture references, and how can I say no to popcorn?  So great.

Closer to the end, she says “Lover, this is not just another poem” which I love because 1) it’s borderline metafictional, 2) it’s direct address, and 3) because she uses the word “lover” with such power, it hits me like a block of cement to the sternum.  This is just one example of how Gibson uses words.  Yeah, that’s right, I made that observation.  Gibson is a poet who doesn’t just build up her poem, she makes every single word count.  EVERY word in this poem is imbued with the strength of the poet and enhances the overall poem.  Just wow.

Favorite image that I just found again:  “I have been painting the night sky upon the inside of doorframes / so only moonshine will fall on your head in the earthquake.”  AH!  Okay, not only am I a sucker for imagery that takes the night sky into consideration, but the night sky has such a danger of turning cliché, but by grounding the image in the doorframe, Gibson allows the night sky to become something more solid, something that’s within reach.  Plus I love an image that makes me think “Wow, that’s really cool” and this is one of those.  I can just imagine Gibson painting little pinprick stars around every side of the doorframe and then sending her lover to stand there in an earthquake.  And the house that holds it has fallen, but the doorframe stays standing, beaming moonshine.  AH, so good.

I also enjoy the multiple uses of the word “break,” but that’s just a sidenote.

Finally, wow, ending image/comment.  Just wow.  “…how they never speak guardrail, / how they only say fall.”  Just wow.  I’m leaving it there.

PROMPTS:
1. Use the night sky.  Don’t let it be cliché.  If you’re going to use a flowery description of stars and romanticize about how far the cosmos is from your fingertips, please skip this prompt.

2. Write a pop culture triple.  Because you know you want to.

3. Tell a story in snapshots.  Or tell snippets of a life.

4. Write a poem.  Go back and cut all superfluous words.  Use words sparingly and inject them with your own unique power.

5. Write a poem to be performed.  And go out and do it!

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On a note slightly (okay, maybe very) related to poetry, I was walking home from a meeting with my friend...


Katie: Have you heard about that challenge where you write a poem a day for a month?
Brianna: Yeah, that sounds crazy.
Katie: Yeah.
Brianna: It's September 1st...wanna do it?
Katie: Yeah!  We can exchange poems and then we'll have mail every day!
(and this is the point in this script where if this were a movie we would jump into the air and high five)


I'm REALLY excited about this project because I've been feeling really poetic lately, and if I commit to writing a poem every day, then maybe I'll actually get things written.  I've already spent my last couple of business classes scribbling out lines of poetry, and though it's not a habit I should be encouraging in myself, it feels good to write some poetry for once.  And of course I'm super out of practice so I would have to apologize for any poem I ever wrote...but we're dispensing with apologies for now because they're drafts.  All drafts.  And by the end of this month, I'll have drafts of 30 poems to show for it.  Let's do this.

CRAYONS!

Brianna: I have no idea what I should write about.
Courtney: Crayooooooonnnnssss!
Brianna: O_O  Really?
Courtney: Yes.

Well okay.

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I was going to make this a free writing bit of prose, but I'm not really feeling the prose right now.  And I could write poetically, but my brain has decided to blaaaaaah.  Melt inside my skull and ooze out my nose.  Which is totally fine, since I really don't have to speak intelligently again until tomorrow.  And even that is debatable.

I really enjoy crayons.  A lot.  Before I went off to school for my freshman year, my mother bought me a gigantic box of crayons.  120 crayons, to be precise.  At least, I think that's when I got them.  Coloring has got to be the best stress reliever that I can ever think of.  For Christmas that same year of college, my friend got me a set of High School Musical crayons.  Now you would think that these crayons would have something special about them.  Like they would sing while you colored with them or yelled about "Wildcats" when you open the box.  But no.  The boxes have characters from High School Musical on them, and that's about it.  Less than stellar coloring ability as well.

I'm very picky when it comes to crayons.  But maybe it's not so much "picky" as the fact that I have standards when it comes to crayons.  None of those Rose Art crayons, give me Crayola, and that's it.

A couple years ago, I asked for a "crayon tower" for Christmas, and I got it.  BEST Christmas present EVER.  It has these glitter crayons and metallic crayons in addition to the classic colored crayons.  I'm a little upset that I got multiple white crayons and only one black crayon, because it's a fact that black is the crayon that's used up the quickest, and white...well, not so much.  So that's just silly.

Crayon Tower FTW!  :^D

Basic gist of this post?  I love crayons.  A lot.  I also may or may not have stolen a coloring book from the closet of an organization I'm no longer the president of.  I figured I deserved something to remind me of that wonderful, wonderful year.  It's a Magical Creatures coloring AND activity book!  I could hardly resist.

I've been coloring for a really long time.  My most vivid memories about coloring all take place at my grandmother's lake house.  Well, my grandparents'.  They used to have this house hours about 4 hours away from my home, and it was always a big deal when we went there because we had to stay for a long time to make it worth the drive.  The reason for having the house was so we had a vacation place, and then my grandpa really likes to fish, so he would go out on the pier and fish.  On bad days, little Brianna would color on the dining room table.  It was always SO cool because sometimes I could get my mom or my grandma to color with me.  They were REALLY good at coloring, I remember.  Grandma would always shade with weird combinations of colors, and Mom always gave the Disney princesses weird colored hair.  If I'm not mistaken, she put Belle in black and purple and gave her gray hair.  SO good.  We also played a game where you had to close your eyes and pick a color and then you had to use that color in your picture.  We always ended up with really weird looking pictures, but it was so much fun!

I still color now.  I may be a senior in college, but you know...I need a stress reliever if I can ever force myself to take time for it!  My coloring books and crayons are just within reach of my desk, so I should get on that...

A picture from November 2010.  Because I date my colorings.  :^P

"We could learn a lot from crayons; some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, while others bright, some have weird names, but they all have learned to live in the same box."

- Unknown