Pitch #9: Stop and Smell the Meanings

I know I am going out of order with my posted pitches, but as I reviewed my writing folder, I found this exercise and realized I had no memory of writing it. It is from the same class as the last two pitches, but I believe the idea behind this exercise was looking at multiple meanings of a word. (at least I think so?)

If you would like, let me know what you think :)

Written 3/2/2010 for my Engl 285 class.

Butterfly

He called her butterfly. She had begun to wonder exactly what he meant by it. Was it the fact that she was social, attending parties, visiting friends on the weekends, and seldom talking to her parents on the telephone? That was her assumption when she ran into him at the club. They had embraced, exchanged small talk, and he left with that word hanging in the air. Taking it as a compliment, she had smiled and waved, but as she considered it again, she could not remember the look on his face, let alone the intended meaning.

He did constantly criticize her for living her life without direction; drifting from one job to another, from residence to residence. Was it because she drifted like a leaf on the wind? He was always so consistent. The sturdy trunk of an old tree. Metaphorically, he wasn’t going anywhere soon, and she was the one who broke up with him.

She was blonde. Blonde, the buttery hair color that is like the summer bird -the butterfly-, only pretty in the sunlight. Only brave in the sunlight. Brightest in the sunlight. He criticized her for her blondeness too. Blondes are flitty, they never make up their minds, their common sense is questionable…wait, was he describing blondes or women?

Butterflies were considered thieving witches in north-western Europe. His family is English…did he see her as a thieving witch? Their relationship was brief, harsh words were exchanged, and the breakup led to that uncomfortable “elephant in the room” feeling whenever they ran into each other at parties, but that feeling had faded over the years. Those words were nothing they meant to say, and everything they never planned to. She considered the two of them civil, if nothing else.

Maybe she was too frail, inside or out. The butterfly was the spirit of the dead, a soul, a breath. She hoped he was not suggesting she looked dead. She had a pale complexion, but not anything compared to Edward Cullen and his vampire coven. She was healthy looking.

Perhaps it was the inside. He said once that he saw her social behavior as a way to cover up the deadness of her soul, the inner lackluster. Did he believe she was just a breath of her former self? Or on her last breath? Or did he hope she was on her last breath?

She did not understand.

It was just the opposite. It was his way of wishing her a long life, instead of saying he wanted her life to be over. She wasn’t a wisp of herself, but rather a bright soul, flickering in the darkness she surrounded herself with. The butterfly was his way of saying she brightened his day like summer sunshine, but she never stayed long enough to warm him.

He was saying he was a butterfly too, in a different way. He hoped another butterfly would grow between them someday. He was healed and waiting for her to alight and rest.

~Brittanie V.

A Swing at the Sublime

Written 1/19/2010, here is another Pitch from my ENGL 285 Creative Writing Class. The goal for this one was to venture into the sublime. As this was largely a workshop class, the writers were encouraged to constantly challenge themselves. So, I challenged myself by forcing myself to write poetry. So, here it is. Enjoy.

The picture is from a gallery of photos from Duvall, WA, my hometown.

Pitch #3: A Swing at the Sublime

Down the hill, through the misty valley,

A green latticed cage appears, reflecting headlights,

Standing between the world of movie-theaters, high school, and college busy,

The Ivory Tower that manufactures thinkers, the purchased thoughts wasted with thoughtless drinks,

And then the alternate, waiting world of horse breath, water-hauling, whistle calls, and true-life wisdom,

Past pain of broken bodies and men and hearts inspires fear, stirring and mingling and feeding inexplicable joy and the fierce protection of innocence by the old dog and his herd.

The inapplicable peels off, revealing the soft belly-fur of barn-cat and shepherd-dog.

~ Brittanie V.

Collage Me

Inspired by a friend who recently created his own blog, I am updating mine (an embarrassing long time after I said I would...).

I feel that it is best to put up some stuff I wrote/pondered on during my Writers on Writing class last winter (English 285). It was an experimental class, so many of the writing assignments are unconventional.

I will start with one of my first assignments (called Pitches). It is a progressive piece, so the numbered parts are the 'brainstorming' for the final arranged paragraph at the end.

Pitch 2: Collage Me

1) The older I get, the more I realize how selfish I am. When I was younger, it manifested itself with actions that said. ‘I want that toy’ or ‘I want you to give attention to me, not my sister’, but now that I am older it has transformed into ‘give me your time: I want to claim irreplaceable moments of your life.’

2) Humans are inherently selfish and greedy, particularly when it comes to what they haven’t got. The interesting thing is, few realize it until they have reached “old age”.

3) “I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle.” ~Jane Austen

Final (Arbitrary) Arrangement:

Humans are inherently selfish and greedy, particularly when it comes to what they haven’t got. The interesting thing is, few realize it until they have reached “old age”.

The older I get, the more I realize how selfish I am. When I was younger, it manifested itself with actions that said, ‘I want that toy’ or ‘I want you to give attention to me, not my sister’, but now that I am older it has transformed into ‘give me your time: I want to claim irreplaceable moments of your life.’ I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle.

~Brittanie V.