This blog post is going to focus on the alternate outcome of Blog post number 5, the “What if’s” of my story. What could have happened if I went down a different path of my night? This will be a reflection along with a dialog scene to show my alternate ending. We were assigned the following reading to get a more in depth look at writing an alternative ending. There are also links below to a short clip from the movie Kramer vs Kramer that shows depth and conflict to a "What if" scenario.
In blog post number five, I composed a narrative scene based on the night of my sexual assault at West Virginia University. I started out the night happy, excited and ready to take on a party with all of my friends. The pregame was so much fun, the room was bright, energetic and just filled with good vibes. What I didn’t mention was the fact that I did not even feel like going out that night. I went to Lex’s room pale faced, tired and miserable from my classes all day, but I thought in my head “You need to make friends” which had convinced me to drink my energy drink and go out. I could have just left after the beer pong tournament. Why did I drink the celebratory winning cup? Why didn’t I question why he had to go into the other room to get it when the jungle juice was in the same room? Why didn’t I go back to my room when I felt sick? These are questions I still ask myself to this day. What would have my alternative ending been like if I didn’t drink that last drink? How would it differ my life now? “Yo! D! You’re back, want to be on my pong team” “Alright Lex, I was your partner but fuck me right. Bitch” “Ashley we lost, were switching teams” “Yo!! Lex, be on my team!” “Ash, I'm gonna be on Kyle's team, You can be with D!” Me and D won the whole tournament. “FUCK YEA, We are chugging a celebratory cup of jungle juice, Ill be right back!” He said. Ashley, don't take random drinks, I already told you this. My head was right this time. My inner thoughts have been warning me all night, not keeping me from the fun. “Why did he go into the other room to get the jungle juice when the keg of it is right there?” I thought to myself. “D, what is in this drink?” “Eh you know just a little concoction I came up with” “Ok.. but what is in it?” “Just drink it Ash, I promise you’ll like it” Don't drink it Ashley, this is really sketchy. You’re right. “Nah bud, I think I’ll pass on this one. I'm not feeling that good” “Come on, we just won!! We have to celebrate” “I'm good!!! I don't want any” “Where is Ash?? ASH!!” “I'm over here Lex! I don't feel that great, are you ready to go back to the dorms?” “I thought you’d never ask” She responds. The scene above is the night I wish I would have had, my college life drastically changed because of that night; if I would have just said no to that celebratory drink, I would have gone home unharmed and happy. I would not have had to speak to cops, ashamedly give them a bag of my undergarments, or been in the hospital. I would not be 3,500 in hospital debt; I would have gone back to school sooner because I technically withdrew and had no financial aid help. This night altered my life and still kind of does to this day. If I would have taken that one step back to listen to my inner thoughts and not let impulse decisions of drinking control me, my life would be a little bit different then it is today. With all this though, I think to myself that I learned a lesson from it. What if it happened later in life? I never learned not to take the drink from a “friend” and I ended up dead? Or hurt? This was a learning experience, I am cautious now, I bring my own drinks, I know my limits; and as much as I wish the outcome was different, it taught me a valuable life lesson that I hope no other human has to ever experience.
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For this blog post we were assigned to read “Hills like white elephants” by Ernest Hemingway. We were asked what themes connect our stories to the reading. In hills like white elephants, the couple had to make a very serious decision and overcome a situation they agreed on. At the end they felt free. The theme that connects both our stories is “Freedom” from a tough situation. We were also asked to read the following to get a full understanding of using symbolism and dialog to make an emotional scene. These readings can be found below!
Shut the hell up *Music playing in the other room* “Guys, hello?, someone help me” *Banging on the wall* “Where’s Ash” Why can't they hear me? I'm screaming, I'm banging on the wall, why can no one hear me? What is happening? Why is no one coming for me? I guess I'll just go to sleep. “I found her, what's wrong with her? Why is there foam coming out of her mouth? Someone call 911” I'm at WVU, the biggest party college in the United States. I was dressed slutty, I deserved it, right? *Knocks on Alexis’ dorm door, music playing and people talking inside* “Finally you bitch, took you long enough!!!” “I had to shower and get my shit together, asshole” “Here’s your cup, pour up” You didn’t take your anxiety medicine today, you are dreading this party aren’t you ash? Shut the hell up!!!! “Let’s fucking goooo” "Do you want to beer bong some loko with us?” Ashley, what happened last time you drank that shit? Shut the hell up. “Fuck it, lets go” Chanting starts as I raise the rubber tube to my mouth, its nasty, what the fuck is gold flavor anyway? Oh, the 14% alcohol one, right. I feel my entire body get warm Why did you do that? Now you are drunk. Shut the hell up. I slowly sip my vodka red bull to get the horrible, bitter taste out of my mouth, its not working and now I really am drunk I told you not to! Shut the hell up. How am I this drunk at the pregame in a dorm room? Because you drink to drown your anxiety. I won't tell you to shut up this time, because you're right I hear the heels clicking on the floor, cameras flashing, that means everyone is ready. I get dressed, do one last hair and makeup check. I feel good, I look good, and I’m ready to go. I jump in the pictures, and pound a few beers with the boys before we walk out. I am walking up frat row with my water bottle of vodka and not a worry in the world “Ash let me get a sip” “Me to” “Yooo let me get one” If you get caught with this, you will throw away everything you worked for. Shut the hell up We get to the party, it is cold as shit, we are all freezing and the drunk has basically worn off from sweating walking up that big ass hill. “YOOOO ASH, LEX how’s my two favorite girls” “Were good D, How are you!!!” “Better now that you guys are here! You want a drink?” Remember what your mom told you Ashley, never take a drink from anyone. HE'S A FRIEND, shut the hell up! “Yea what are we drinking? You can have some of this, it's just vodka in the water bottle” “Yea i'll take some and were drinking the usual, jungle juice” Don't ever drink the jungle juice Ash. Oh my god, shut the hell up! “Lay it on me!” “Do we ever say no to alcohol? Lets chug ash” Its nasty, tastes like pink lemonade and battery acid “Dude, what the hell is in this?” “Pink lemonade, red koolaid and 8 different types of liquor” That explains it. Me and Lex leave to play beer pong in the kitchen. I laid off the Jungle juice, that one cup got me my buzz back, beer time it is. “Yo! D! You’re back, want to be on my pong team” “Alright Lex, I was your partner but fuck me right. Bitch” “Ashley we lost, were switching teams” “Yo!! Lex, be on my team!” “Ash, I'm gonna be on Kyle's team, You can be with D!” Me and D won the whole tournament. “FUCK YEA, We are chugging a celebratory cup of jungle juice, Ill be right back!” He said. Ashley, don't take random drinks, I already told you this. He's my friend! Shut the hell up! We chugged it, we all danced and sang for about 20 minutes. I didn't feel good, I was getting sick and I needed to lay down. I sat on a chair and put my head down that's when everything went black *Music playing in the other room* “Guys, hello?, someone help me” *Banging on the wall* “Where’s Ash” Why can't they hear me? I'm screaming, I'm banging on the wall, why can no one hear me? What is happening? Why is no one coming for me? I look over, I see the vodka water bottle I gave D on the nightstand, why is it in here? Why can't I get up? I guess I'll just go to sleep, I feel paralyzed, I'm scared.. “I found her, what's wrong with her? Why is there foam coming out of her mouth? Someone call 911” *Beep Beep Beepbeepbeepbeep* “Her blood pressure is dropping” “Ashley wake up, please wake up” I'm awake, why can’t I open my eyes? Open your eyes Ashley. OPEN THEM. I wake up, nurses and my friends surrounding me “How are you feeling honey?” “Lex, why am I here? What the fuck happened? I played beer pong and chugged a drink and that was all I remember. How did I get here? Am I hurt? Tell me something” “We found you unconscious last night at the party you were foaming out of your mouth, in D’s bed” You were raped Ashley. He's my friend, he was probably just giving me a place to sleep. Shut the hell up. “Ashley he told everyone this morning he slept with you and left when he saw your start foaming out of your mouth” I told you. “What? I'm in the hospital? How is that possible, no this can't be real” Believe it Ashley, he raped you. He would never do that, shut the hell up! “Hey Ashley, how are you feeling? I am the nurse who took your blood.” She had a sympathetic look to her. “I'm out of it, I feel horrible, I'm so confused on what is happening” “We found traces of MDMA, Cocaine and rufilin in your system. Do you remember taking any of these drugs?” Did you Ashley? Did you take drugs? No! Shut the hell up “No, I did not touch any drugs last night? How would drugs get in my system? I told you not to drink the jungle juice. “Did D put it in your drink?” “Lex, I think so” “Ashley, your friend Lex told me what happened last night, I think it is best we do a rape kit. Was he your friend Ashley? Do friends do this to friends? He wasn’t my friend. He did this. I needed closure, I needed to speak to the cops? Where do I start? “Ashley, we're here to help you, would you like the police contacted?” “Yes, I want to call my mom first” She's going to be furious. This wasn’t my fault. She will understand. Shut the hell up. I called her. She drops everything and is on her way to West Virginia. We go to talk to the cops, together. The cops look mean and irritated. They ask details but I don't know any “Ashley, can you start by telling us what happened?” “I don't know what happened I pregamed, went to a party, drank jungle juice and I was fine. The last cup of jungle juice I drank that my friend D gave me made me feel sick and I fell asleep. I somehow ended up in his bed” He took you there. “Did you do a ‘safe kit’ at the hospital?’” That’s what they call a rape kit now, huh? “Yes, I did” “And you didn't take any drugs?” he replied “No officer Cannon, I touched not one drug last night” “Do you want to press charges? DO it, press charges, send him to prison!!! “No. I want this to be silenced, I want this to end. I want him gone from this school and for a word to never be spoken about this. I want this memory erased from my life and not to be all over the school news” “Ashley, are you sure this is what you want” My mother chimed in. “Yes” You don’t want to be ‘that girl’ on campus who everyone knows about do you? “I'm sure this is what I want” “Okay Ashley, well. What we are going to need from you is a written statement and the whole outfit you were wearing last night, most importantly the underwear.” Oh this is fucking great. “Okay, I can grab it all from my dorm for you” “We will go with you” he says A police escort to your dorm, that screams “fitting in” doesn’t it Ashley. For the last time. Shut the hell up I walked in my dorm room, it was almost like a nightmare I couldn't escape, my mom searched my laundry with me and we acquired all the clothing items they needed. I handed the officers my plastic bag full of clothes, hands shaking, ashamed. I just wanted to go to bed. It’s been 4 days now, I always used to see him on campus but I haven’t since that night *Facetime from Alexis* “Hey babe, how are you doing today? We missed you at lunch.” “I'm sorry I just wasn't feeling up to it today, I'll be there tomorrow” “Okay, good. I miss your face. I was talking to Kyle today and I have some good news for you.. D was expelled” Holy shit Ashley, you did it. He is gone. “I wish I never had to hear that name again honestly” “Im sorry” she said “I thought it would give you some sort of happiness” “Nothing will ever take the thought out of my mind that I was violated Lex, but I do have some peace of mind knowing he will never be in my presence again” I am numb. I feel disgusting, I feel betrayed, I feel used and scared. I never want to go to a frat party again, I never want to go out again, I never want to drink in the presence of a male ever again. You can't think that way Ashley. You did not ask for this to happen to you, you didn’t do anything wrong. Your mom always told you, everyone is not your friend. Live your life, live it to your fullest and your happiest. If you let him take your freedom and life away dwelling over this, he won. Stand up tall, share your story and work on rebuilding yourself. For the first time, I wasn't going to tell that little voice in my head to shut the hell up because she was right. All along. Listen to that little voice in your head, it may save your life one day. In this blog post I will compose a short story from the three texts assigned to me. I am creating a dialog between myself and these three authors while they give me feedback on what steps to take to compose a good piece of writing. This assignment, to me was the most difficult one yet. I am awful at writing any type of fictional story.
The three texts that were assigned to me were as follows, give them a read:
It was a rainy Thursday night, I was at work like I am every Thursday night. I was talking to my regulars, serving drinks and listening to music. If I didn’t mention before I am a bartender at a little dive bar near the Philadelphia Airport. My bar is usually slower until late at night, just the usual customers, but I had noticed a male and two females that I have never seen before. They walked in looking defeated, wet and tired. I welcomed them in, asked them their names and drink of choice and asked what brought them in. They explained they were coming from the airport and they were set to do an interview in Philadelphia the next day. They told me their names were Don Murray, Mary Karr and Anne Lamott. Those names sounded all too familiar to me, I exclaimed that I knew of them and their writing, they were happy I had recognized their work! They noticed I was doing my school work, which is what I do on slow nights at the bar. Don asked me what I was working on and I responded that I was writing a draft for my blog assignment for my English Composition class, he was excited and asked if I needed any advice! I did need advice so I asked him “What do you believe would help me understand my writing process more?" Don responded “The writer, as he writes, is making ethical decisions. He doesn’t test his words by a rule book, but by life. He uses language to reveal the truth to himself so that he can tell it to others. It is an exciting, eventful, evolving process.” Wow, did that open my eyes, I thought to myself “using language to reveal the truth to himself” that is amazing, I have never even thought about it like that I need to write it out to reveal my truth, I get that! I responded with “Thank you for that insight, that really spoke to me!” He asked if I had any other questions and oh boy, did I! I asked him “How can I decide when my work is good enough to be finished and turned in?” He responded with “Instead of teaching finished writing, we should teach unfinished writing, and glory in its unfinishedness” “So basically what I am hearing is nothing is ever going to be perfect 100%, so why not find glory in a writing piece that may be unfinished even if it is finished in your eyes” He nodded. “So last question! What do you think the basic writing process steps are to a good writing piece? He responded with “The writing process itself can be divided into three stages: prewriting, writing, and rewriting. The amount of time a writer spends in each stage depends on his personality, his work habits, his maturity as a craftsman, and the challenge of what he is trying to say. It is not a rigid lock-step process, but most writers most of the time pass through these three stages” I smiled. I had hope in my writing, because these are the steps I usually pass through while writing. I thanked him for all of his motivating words and decided to start a conversation with Mary! Mary said hello, and told me she would be more than happy to add on to the advice and asked me if there was anything she could add. I responded “Of course I have questions for you, thank you so much for asking! So my question for you Mary, I have an extremely hard time starting my writing, whether it's the topic, the question anything. I just can't find the words, is there a way to go about fixing that?” She responded with “In the beginning, when there are zero pages, you have to cheer yourself into cranking stuff out, even if it later lands on the cutting room floor. Each page takes you somewhere you need to travel before you can land in the next spot.” “Wow” I responded, did that change my outlook on drafting. I asked her “How can I know if my writing is any good? I think to myself often that it is not good enough.” She responded “Even the smallest towns have coffee shop bulletin boards or community centers with a writer’s workshop now. Even the less good groups can help you by speaking for your potential reader—they’re way better than the echo chamber of your own head.” She was one hundred percent right, I couldn’t possibly know how good my work was until I tried to actually get it out there. “Final question Mary and I will get out of your hair!” She nodded. “I am going to ask you the same question I asked Don, How can I know when my writing is good enough to be finished and turned in?” She laughed, and responded “Writing, regardless of the end result—whether good or bad, published or not, well reviewed or slammed—means celebrating beauty in an often ugly world. And you do that by fighting for elegance and beauty, redoing or cutting the flabby, disordered parts” Her response was a breath of fresh air, and no where near the response I got from Don, but both answers really spoke to me. “Thank you so much Mary for all of your advice and insight, you really made me think about my writing in a different light!” She shook my hand and said she wanted to leave me with one more thought “None of us can ever know the value of our lives, or how our separate and silent scribbling may add to the amenity of the world, if only by how radically it changes us, one and by one.” Lastly, Anne comes up. I engage in some small conversation and notice she has been drinking water all night. I asked her if she would like anything else and she told me about the story of her sobriety and how she has now been sober for 34 years. I congratulate her and tell her that she should be proud of herself for taking that step to better her life. She noticed I asked everyone else questions so she asked me if I had any for her. “Yes, I do have some questions actually. I mentioned this before but I want your input. I have trouble getting my writing started, to jot anything down to come up with ideas, how do I put my mind to it and come up with good content?” She giggled at me and took her cheetah print glasses off and put them on her head and explained “For me and most of the other writers I know, writing is not rapturous. In fact, the only way I can get anything written at all is to write really, really shitty first drafts” “Really shitty first drafts, Why would you want them to be shitty? Shouldn’t they be good to start your writing off with a good slate? She laughed again “The first draft is the child’s draft, where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later. You just let this childlike part of you channel whatever voices and visions come through and onto the page.” “I like that idea a lot, so it’s basically only something I am going to see, even if I don't finish it or have to revise it to no end, at least I started it and got something down. Rough drafting is something I have always wanted to do but am no good at, so what is your drafting process? Well…. She continued “ I’d write a first draft that was maybe twice as long as it should be, with a self-indulgent and boring beginning, stupefying descriptions of the meal, lots of quotes from my black-humored friends that made them sound more like the Manson girls than food lovers, and no ending to speak of. The whole thing would be so long and incoherent and hideous that for the rest of the day I’d obsess about getting creamed by a car before I could write a decent second draft. I’d worry that people would read what I’d written and believe that the accident had really been a suicide.” “Wow, that sounds like something I would do, just drafting word for word and making it super long and boring, but I guess that’s why you have to draft and write down all your thoughts, because if it there on the page you can piece it apart and put all the ideas back together again right?” She responded: “Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere. Start by getting something— anything—down on paper. A friend of mine says that the first draft is the down draft—you just get it down. The second draft is the up draft—you fix it up. You try to say what you have to say more accurately. And the third draft is the dental draft, where you check every tooth, to see if it’s loose or cramped or decayed, or even, God help us, healthy.” “Well Anne, you have really given me a handful to think about, you are very outspoken and you have given me advice that makes me want to change the ways I go about my writing process. Thank you so much for all of your insight and congratulations on your sobriety" I looked at the clock and couldn’t believe it was 1:00AM, I called last call and kindly thanked each of the authors for their time writing motivation they had given me. I started closing up and got a brainstorm of all the ideas I could put into my draft, I took my notebook and eagerly started my blog post. Hopeful and happy. |
Ashley GaylorI use this blog as a place to reconnect with my author self Archives
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