Caught Up & Crazed

The Changeling (For MTW)

2009-03-11T20:41:00.000-05:00

(A single spot comes up on a young woman)

WOMAN

Change? You want me to change? Like it’s a decision...like it’s a choice. Fine...I’ve decided that I am 5’6”...(looks down)...hmmm, doesn’t seen to have worked. Maybe when I sleep, then...Oh, and while I’m at it...I’ve decided to change my eyes to green...and not with contacts. If change is as easy as making a choice, then it should work, right? What else can I do? Want it really badly? Well, I do...What if I don’t change? What if I stay the same? Will you still love me? When I was younger I would lie in bed, silently crying...praying for God to change me...”please, God, make me straight”...I wanted it more than anything in the world...but He didn’t...If God answers prayers...why didn’t He answer mine? It took some time, but now I know that I’m the way God intended me to be...you used to tell me that God doesn’t make mistakes...but you won’t accept me for who and what I am. Changing my sexuality is about as easy changing my height...I can pray...I can ask God...I can want it so badly it hurts...but I can’t change it...and neither can you. So, you can accept me...and love me...and hold me when I cry...or you can’t. You can continue to ask me to change, you can withhold love, you can keep everyone from me...and you can end up hurting yourself...missing out on me and my life. I’m standing here...asking you to change...to make a choice: Either love me for who I am or walk away. But before you go, I want you to know this: I would never choose to be hated...to be persecuted...to be killed...to be a joke...to lose you. But if I had to do it again...yes, I would. Because I can’t change who I am...but if I can change one mind, then I’ve done my job...

(As lights FADE to BLACK SFX: walking away)

(BLACKOUT)

END

Write...Right?

2009-03-07T16:28:00.002-06:00

Who needs inspiration?

You just put pen to paper, right?

Write...right...write

Something real...write

Write...right...write

Something honest...write

Write...right...write

Something true...write

Write...right...write

Anything...just write

Write what's right

Damaged

2009-02-26T21:06:00.003-06:00

(Single spot up on a Woman)

WOMAN

His eyes were unlike anyone else’s that I’d ever seen. They could cloud over in an instant and he wouldn’t be the person you thought he was. He told me that he had this purpose. He didn’t quite know what it was...but he knew it was there. And I knew it was there, in his eyes, I could see it but I couldn’t make it out. There was something dark about him and it drew me in. Something almost dangerous...sexy. I would sit next to him while he slept and just look at him, trying to figure out who was in my bed. I knew that behind those volatile eyes there was something more. Something trying to communicate with me. At the time I thought it was a wounded child, abandoned by his father, raised by a sick grandfather, only to be left to grow up too quickly at such a young age. My friends told me that it wasn’t my job to save him. They’d say that I was too good for him...and I knew they were right. But there was this...I don’t know...this longing in his eyes, that kept drawing me back. I tried...time and time again...to save him from his life...from himself...I knew I wasn’t the one who could do it, but how could I not try? Then one night, he calls drunk. No, not drunk...completely wasted...I was unable to make out his words. It was pouring outside...and he was crying. I didn’t know what to do. It was almost as if my child had been hurt. My heart was breaking for him...so I told him to come over and go to sleep, knowing the entire time that this was only going to end badly. When he got to the house, he was drenched...he looked small...weak...damaged...like a child. He curled up on my bed...and cried. Then he sat up...filled with rage...his mood changed as quickly as the wind. He grabbed my nightstand and threw it against the wall. He smashed my room as I sat there in awe...unable to breathe or move for fear that he would remember that I was there. Then he turned...his gorgeous eyes, dark and full of hate...he looked right at me...there was nothing I could do. Never once in my life had a man raised a hand to me...until this moment. The next thing I remember the cops are coming in...arresting him...and taking me to the hospital. I left the next day...battered...bruised...and with a broken arm...I’ve healed...but I’ve never forgotten. I am a woman...and I am strong...and I will never...never...allow this to happen again. I couldn’t save him... But I will be damned if I let my son grow up to become his father...

(As lights FADE to BLACK)

YOUNG BOY VOICE OVER

Mommy, I need you.

(BLACKOUT)

END

The Driver

2009-02-26T20:41:00.002-06:00

(Single spot up on a woman dressed in prison orange)

WOMAN

Sand in an hour glass moves slowly, making one think that time is slow. But in life, time moves against you, it’s fast and you never seem to have enough time to do what’s important. On death row, time moves like sand through an hour glass. You go from meal to meal, wondering if the next is going to be your last. One mistake ages ago, can put you away. Although, my mistake was huge. I was drunk, I was driving, and I killed an entire family. It was already life in prison...but I already had three prior convictions on my record. All three reckless endangerment with a vehicle. This time, it was late. I had been fighting with my husband. I had decided that I was going to commit suicide. I was driving to the bridge, and stopped to get more vodka. This was my second bottle, and I knew it was going to be a long night. I knew the guy behind the counter, and he knew I was drunk. He shouldn’t have sold me the bottle, and he’s told me so since. But he did, and I drove. I drank my second bottle of vodka, and contemplated life after death. I wonder how much it was going to hurt to jump from the bridge, how much pain my husband and family would feel. I stopped paying attention to the road. In fact, I forgot I was driving all together. I felt more like I was on a ride at an amusement park than driving my own car. Then it hit me. Hard, solid, crunching, metal on metal. Then the screams and the heat from the flames woke me. I knew something wasn’t right, but I still wasn’t totally conscience. I was sober for the first time in months. You know that accidental sober, like when you where 16 or 17 and had to go home after a night of partying, and your parents were waiting up. You sober up instantly. No one would ever know that you had been drinking, except for the awful smell of your breath and clothes. I fought my way out of my car, but it was too late. The other car exploded, and I was conscience. I knew what was happening. I screamed at the gods. I wanted to die, not to kill someone else. As the sirens grew closer, I knew what I had to do. I stood on the edge of the bridge and looked down at the concrete below. I thought ‘one, two, three jump.’ Like you did as a kid, to help build the courage to do something, but I couldn’t jump. My legs wouldn’t work. So I stood there, a failed mother, wife, and daughter. I waited for the cops, and in those next few seconds I knew that I had not only ruined my life but I had ruined the lives of those around me. I knew nothing would be the same and that the gods would not allow me the easy way out. I would have to live to feel the pain of what I had done. I had to repent, and serve my time. Now I sit here while time drips by and I wonder what happened to the days when I was happy and sober and free. The times before I knew what vodka tasted like.

(As lights FADE to BLACK)

MALE VOICE OVER

Lights out!

(BLACKOUT)

END

Monotomy

2009-02-25T11:27:00.004-06:00

Day in, day out

It's all the same.

Wake up, wash up

Work, sleep.

Day in, day out

It's all the same.

Wake up, wash up

Work, sleep.

Day in, day out

It's all the same.

Wake up, wash up

Work, sleep.

Day in, day out

It's all the same.

Breaking the cycle.

Slowly letting chaos in.

Never being satisfied.

Happily living life.

No longer surviving it.

The Living

2009-01-29T11:07:00.008-06:00

(A single spot light comes up on a woman)

WOMAN

I awoke this morning, from a dream that I had lost my best friend, my love. I noticed my tear stained sheets, felt my puffy eyes. I looked at the clock beside my bed...5pm, shit! Jonathan will be home soon. How did I sleep all day? I must be sick...but I feel fine...I run to the bathroom and shower quickly, then dry my hair. 5:30. Any minute he'll be home. I throw on some makeup to cover my still puffy eyes. I find some clothes, and head towards the kitchen to start dinner. But I hear something...someone talking in the living room. I would almost swear it's my mother. The words are too muffled for me to understand what she's saying, but I have a feeling she's talking about me. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. Jonathan. The wreck. The ambulance. The hospital. Everything. I remember everything. I collapse in the hall. My mother tries to comfort me, and puts me back in bed. Everyday the dream is different. Sometimes I dream about the end, and others the beginning. But the result is always the same. The lack of knowledge, the over-whelming hope that it was all a dream. That Jonathan is coming back, that it's all ok. I look for him, I want to tell him about the dream. I want him to hold me and promise me forever...forever...tell me he isn't going anywhere...instead I eventually realize the truth...that he isn't here. That he isn't coming back. That I am alone. Jonathan has been gone for 5 years now. And the dreams have faded, but they are still here. For me the worst part of losing him is that part of my brain that holds on and says that he is still with me, that nothing has changed. There is a new pain with the daily realizations. And a longing for these dreams...this punishment...to stop. But when they started to dwindle, all I am left with is an emptiness...My mind starts hoping to dream once again of my Jonathan and to be left to the realization that he isn't here. The searching is gone. I long for that fresh pain because it reminded me that everything was and is real. So...here I am...drifting...and I think about Jonathan less and less...I've become numb to the fresh pain of my past...the dull pounding of one heart searching for another...gone...subdued. I won't ever forget it...I just don't need it to remind me that I am alive anymore. I...I just know. And I'm going to deal with this...until I can be reunited with Jonathan.

(LIGHTS FADE as

MALE VOICE OVER

Babe...come with me.

(BLACK OUT)

END

The Ticking

2008-10-23T14:31:00.000-05:00

(Spot light on a woman)

WOMAN

It's weird, I've never wanted to have children...Ok, once I wanted a child. I saw my ex holding our newborn nephew, and I don’t know...he had this look in his eyes…like he knew the meaning of life and it was in his arms. When I held the baby, I didn’t get that at all. But that’s the moment I knew I had to give him children. I made up my mind to do it although I never got the chance. Looking back, I've been glad that things ended without bringing offspring into it. It's been seven years since I saw that look and longed to give him what he wanted most. Other than that, there hasn't been a day that I have thought "I want kids." I started thinking that, maybe I was born without a biological clock, ticking away making me baby crazed. Maybe this is the next step in the evolutionary chain...no more ticking. And then it happens. I'm walking to the train in the bustling Chicago metropolis and it hits me: I have to have children! I can’t let my father not be a grandfather. So, here I am 27, blissfully single, trying to make it in the big bad world. And now I want a child? I have this rush of questions. What is it like to live for another person? Am I capable of giving every part of me to someone else? How does it feel to love someone so much? I don’t know that I’m ready for that…so for now it’s a maybe…maybe I want children…maybe I don’t…maybe…but I don’t know. I think there are too many “maybes” in this equation. So, for now, I’ll just buy a puppy and hit snooze on the alarm that just went off and see where this life takes me. Who knows, one day it could happen, but for now I’ll be satisfied with what I have.

(As lights fade to black, sound effects of children laughing and playing.)

END

Getting all political on your ass...

2008-09-12T10:12:00.000-05:00

September 11th is day we all remember. We all mourn the loss of our innocence. It's the day we woke up and knew with out a doubt that this world is not the world that we thought we were living in. We imagined ourselves in a safe world free from harm, free from hate. Up to this point we were a generation undefined by war. We were defined by our lack of anything. Now we have this…This gaping whole in the skyline of our lives defining us. We are a peaceful people run by warmongering fools. We bring destruction upon ourselves without remorse, then we blame someone else for our downfall. As a nation, we need to stand up, take responsibility, and grow up. We have no one to blame but ourselves. We put these warmongers into power; we allowed them to use scare tactics to send us into a war that has been costly and uncalled for. We allowed them to give us the words to hate another culture, another group of people who now live in fear that we will obliterate them without a second thought. The land of the free has now become the land of the unforgiving…the land of the hateful, selfish, hypocrite. We preach equality for all, yet we scoff at the thought of two men marrying. We preach freedom of religion, yet condemn an entire group of people for not believing in the Christian God. We claim to be “watch dogs,” when in reality we are the bullies. Aren’t we taught to love? Aren’t we taught acceptance? Aren’t we taught to be fair and not to fight? Or are these rules that only children must follow? We need to take responsibility for our actions. And I intend to. I try to live my life by many different principles. I try to achieve Zen. I try to follow the golden rule. I try to follow the basic rules of life taught to me as a child. I know that I am not perfect and that I will fail at times, but I will be damned if I don’t try harder next time. If we all took responsibility for ourselves, loved our neighbors, respected the rights of those around us, and taught peace and understanding then maybe this world would have a chance. Otherwise all I see is utter self-destruction, brought on by a self-righteous bully.

The Butterfly

2008-09-03T12:52:00.000-05:00

(Single spot light up on a woman dressed in business attire.

She is wearing heels, slacks, a button down shirt, and a

jacket. Her hair is up. She looks "professional")

WOMAN

Five percent of Fortune 500 Companies are run by women...Five...Five percent. What does this tell me? That I can be anything that I want to be? No, it says that to be considered smart and sucessful I have to dress like a man, act like a man, try to be a man. I try not to lose myself in my need for success...my need to be in that five percent, but I'm not sure people are ready for a woman. A real, honest-to-goodness woman. So what happens? (She starts to take down her hair. As the monologue continues she undresses down to her bra.) I pin my hair up and wear suits. I talk about statistics and sports. I become an emotionless robot who only cares about work. I come in early and stay late. I make myself uninteresting. But, hey, at least I'm thought of as smart and successful, right? Why can't I be smart, successful, beautiful, and interesting? I guess I am asking to have my cake and eat it, too.

Living Versus Surviving

2008-08-21T12:34:00.000-05:00

Surviving

The wind rises, dust surrounds me.
I'm in a desert of emotions that I can't name or touch.
My happiness is a mirage on the horizon.
I keep trying to reach it, but I lose my sense of direction.
Caught here in this land not living, just surviving;
The sun beats down on me like a depressive state
Pulling me into myself, lost, I see nothing.
The darkness of night engulfs me in my loneliness.
Tears well up like a rain storm causing you to take cover,
But they disapate before they have time to be acknowledged.
A tornado of feeling swirls around me,
Threating to throw me like a doll from a house.
It moves too quickly for me to react.
And it leaves as quickly as it came.
For now I survive, but for how long?

Old Poems

2008-08-18T08:51:00.000-05:00

Alone (circa 2004)

Silently crying,
In a room full of people,
Alone.

My love has left me,
And my tears fall,
All around me,
Alone.

I wish you where here,
Holding me close,
But here I am,
Alone.

Lonely (circa 2004)

One heart,
Beating softly in the night.
Waiting for her lover,
She holds his pillow tight.

Waiting, wishing, wanting
For his return.
Alone in thier bedroom,
Oh, how she does yearn.

One heart,
Beating softly in the night.
Waiting for her lover,
She holds his pillow tight.

The Bride

2008-08-13T09:47:00.000-05:00

(A single spot comes up on a young woman in a wedding dress)

WOMAN

I, Jeff, take thee, Lisa, to be my lawful wedded wife to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. And forsaking all others, be faithful only to you as long as we both shall live...BULLSHIT! How can you sit through a wedding and listen to these bogus words and think: forever? How can you stand across from anyone and think that these words will keep you both honest until death do you part? Or would we rather honesty? I, Bradley, take thee, Shanna, to be my wedded wife. I promise to try to love you for the rest of my life, but if I don't I'll give you half, in accordance with our pre-nup. I know that people want romance and love that lasts...a fairy tale. A fictional story told to keep boys and girls in line. But why do we need this...this big ceremony...this show? When did 'I love you' stop being enough? Three little words with so much meaning...I love you. It's the hardest thing to say to another person, yet we stage entire productions based on them. Oh, you don't think a wedding is a production? Well it is...right down to set and costumes. Everything is scripted, there's even an audience and a director...father of the bride: the producer...the stars: the Bride and Groom...supporting cast: brides maids and grooms men...Shit, there's even comic relief: the flower girl, spinning in her dress, and the ring bearer, playing hide-and-seek with the best man...I'm not saying I don't believe in love...I just don't know how I feel about forever...

(As lights fade to black)

MALE VOICEOVER

You may now kiss the bride.

(BLACK OUT)

END

Writing Journal Day 1

2008-01-11T16:48:00.000-06:00

Her eyes were so blue and her skin so pale, that she didn't look real. Could he have imagined her? He doubted it. James stood looking for the girl who vanished without a trace. One second the girl with the bluest eyes stood in front of him crying and the next she was gone. What happened? Did he look away? Did he blink? He couldn't remember. All he could think about was her eyes. There was trouble there. James turns and lights a cigarette. Slowly he takes a drag and walks towards the el.

"James?" a female voice whispers.

James turns and sees her again.

"How did you know my name?"

"I know more than you think."

"Are you an angel?" He asks as he stares into her eyes.

"Not quite."

As if under a spell, James collapses to the ground. No one notice other than the girl with the blue eyes. She leans down and whispers into his ear and the two disappear as if they were never there to begin with.

Twelve hours have passed, when James awakens. He dismisses everything he remembers as a dream.

"I must have been exhausted to have dreamt all of that."

The door to his room slowly opens and the girl enters. Her eyes as blue as the cloudless sky feel as though they can see right through him, as if she is peering into his soul and knows all of his deepest darkest secrets. She moves closer and closer. So close that James is looking right into her eyes. Almost nose to nose.

Then he feels it. Her pain. She is broken, that's why her eyes are so clear. He realizes that it isn't she who can see his soul, but he can see hers. He sees the pieces that are broken and bandaged. He knows how they've come to be that way. And more than that he knows how to fix it.