This poem was written in the spring of 2008 during my freshmen semester of college.  

The times we spent lying in your bed

I dream of them

Of our bodies entangled

Happily confused

But now, I’m alone

Craving a touch

A kiss

Anything to live up to

the massacre you created in my heart

I walk the streets

Drunken stupor

Laying with the nearest attractive

To live the dream you created

Into a reality

It won’t work

Will it?

No one can be you

No arms can clutch me

The way yours did

No lips can utter my name

The way the whisper of it clung to your tongue

So I am left in this upside

down topsy turvy world

of wandering

walking

craving something simplistically beautiful

like you

lying in your bed

the times I wondered

which leg was mine

which finger was yours

and never really minded.

To think that a mere four years ago I was waiting to hear back from the USC screenwriting program astounds me.  And now, after four years of struggling and sweat, of way too many cans of beer and handle pulls, of crying and laughing, of making new friends and making new stories, it’s time for First Pitch.  

For those of you unaware of the way the University of Southern California helps us, and perhaps makes our school better than yours, let me shed some light.  First Pitch, for our once 24 and now 20 person class of screenwriters, is the night where we are given the opportunity to pitch to 9 executives from the industry.  We get to share our work from four years and finally make our introduction into entertainment society.  This is our debutante ball, our coming out party, and we are scared shitless. 

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Those close to me know that there is some strange force in the universe conspiring against me.

Before you ask if if my paranoia stems from me being one toke over the line, listen carefully to what I have to say, because it will quickly become clear that my life is a version of final destination, but instead of the world conspiring to kill me, I am doomed to experience the worst random occurrences time and time again.

It all started Freshman year of college.  It was October of 2008 and I was a full fledged party girl.  

Now I will quickly tarnish your image of what kind of party girl I was because instead of high heels and tight dresses, I wore jean shorts and a pair of Uggs to every party. The shorts were to ensure the best dancing.  The Uggs were to act as a purse that just happened to be on my feet.  They would hold the keys to my dorm, my ID, my phone, Chap-stick, and a checklist so that throughout the night I could check the contents and make sure everything was still there.

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When I wake up in the morning, I always wish I was waking up for some ultimate quest.  That today my vocation is to change the world.  As a young woman, I wish I had some wise old sage to lead the course to revolution as I follow in their worthy footsteps and one day take their fire and lead the way for the rest of the masses.  I know, big dreams. 

To say that I’ve been stressing about the uncertainty of employment in the coming months would possibly be the biggest understatement known to man, right up there with “The Duggar family’s father should maybe consider getting a vasectomy” and “After this year, I guess we know there’s corruption in NCAA football.”

The biggest wish on my Christmas list is that someone will read one of my screenplays, think it’s more than mediocre and generally marketable to the masses, pay me a fat wad of cash, and sign me on for a re-write.  Now the chances of this occurring in the next 6-month period are about as good as my chances of winning a high stakes poker match, and I don’t know how to play poker.  

I do on the other hand know how to write.  In fact, I would say I write quite well. After these four years of undergraduate education with a grand total ticket price of around $300,000 dollars, I better be.  

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