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Characters
Amy: Asian American female, 20’s
Raphael: French male, 20’s
Setting: A bedroom of a beach house in Los Angeles, California.
Time: Around noon.
(In bed, Amy scroll through her social media, looking kind of down.)
Amy: All my friends are getting their doctor and law degrees while raising three kids, how do they manage to do that?
RAPHAEL’S VOICE TOGETHER WITH SHAVING SOUNDS (From offstage)
I bet the children are driving them insane. I love you baby, but I don’t think we are ready for that chaos yet.
Amy: I know and I’m 100% agree with you on that. It’s just growing up with all these people, we have the same starting point, but we ended up in such different paths that make me somewhat inferior.
You know all the Asian stereotypes, my parents did wanted me to become doctors and lawyers and I hate those boring jobs since I was little. If all Asian people are doctors and lawyers, who would be planning parties like I do? My parents still think it’s not a real job, but I make as much as surgeons do have fun doing it, not cutting people wide open.
Raphael: Well I never would have met you if it wasn’t for my friend’s birthday party, and I fell in love. Scew those uptights people, I still respect them since they save people, but to me, you are always number one, so don’t feel bad honey.
Amy: Aww thanks for always picking my side babe, but fifteen minutes from now we have to have brunch with my snobby and obnoxious family and my only accomplishment is engaging to you. Not complain about you, but I just hate them so much.
Raphael: Well I don’t think it’s that bad, but I’m excited about the food, even though they might give me diarrhea, it’s totally worth it. We have endured this weekend getaway with your parents and your cousins for this long, let’s pull through and we’ll be back to our home and see Oliver.
Amy: Oh I miss him so much, I hope our neighbor feeds him regularly. You and your belly, however, makes me wish I’m a doctor sometimes. Well time to get ready to face passive-aggressive hell, wish me luck Ralph.
They kiss.
After going through the secret door behind the downtown library, Charlie went to the safer part of the underground area of London to see Dr. Sophie. She greeted her with a smile and happily run her equipment to scan the Luka figurine.
Charlie: Hello there Doc, I got something for you!!!
Sophie: Whatchu got for me, kiddo? I have a bad feeling about this
Charlie: I got a clue on the damn chocolate bastard, this time he touched my dear Luka as well.
Sophie: Bloody hell! How dare that creepy psychopath dares kidnap my precious little apprentice. This time we better bring him down, C!!
Drama is pretty much Fiction but under a certain person’s visualization. It started out as a script written by the writer, then the director and the whole film crew put it to live. While reading fiction, the story is different from everyone’s point of view since the experience is not the same. However, with Drama, it happens here, now and on the stage with the vision of the director, in public. The transition from fiction to drama is not hard, but it’s harder the opposite way. For example, when you go back to read the Harry Porter novels after watching the movies, the image of the actors that play the characters will always be there. While reading it you can’t imagine anyone else since the first impression from them was seen in the movies.
It’s storming outside, filled with raging love.
In the garden, the silver moon smiles.
Words in a poem can portray many meanings, depends on how you place it. For example, “pun”, “paradox”, and “oxymoron” bring doubleness to demonstrate the wordplay of the poet. Unlike reading a novel, as you can see the images as you read through the pages, with poems you have to slowly analyze and see what the sentences are hiding behind them. Not everyone can experience what the poet went through when he or she was writing it, but sometimes only words can reveal itself. Poems are short than other forms of writing, but they convey the most feeling with their little words. It’s the best definition of quality over quantity on how “dense” and “intense” the words can be.
I couldn’t sleep, even though
it’s late, night
or perhaps day: I slept too much
and couldn’t keep track of time.
The quarantine has been great for me
but driving everyone else nuts.
That’s not good, people need to go outside
and socialize
and be productive, what I wanna be
as well.
Poetry is another form of art, therefore it’s objective to everyone whether it’s formal or free verse. “Formal” provides a little more structure while “free” gives the poet more room to express themselves. Personally, I like Formal since it has rhythm and rhyme, which makes it more fun to read and also show the creativity of the poet. “Free verse” poem sometimes doesn’t make sense to me when they just feel like reading sentences with pauses. When I was in high school in Vietnam, Haiku was considered formal since Japanese letters can be formed into different words with layers of meaning and rhyme. However, when translated into English, some of them lost their value completely and Haiku made by English poets sometimes just don’t feel right to me. Then they sort of become free verse.
“Hahaha… the police? They are the reason why I’m like this. You would never know how
corrupted the system is, I worked days and nights to keep people safe, but it will never be enough.” The
man laughing as he continues to walk toward some sort of device.
“But all that end tonight, once the clock strikes midnight, this machine right here will send a
signal to detonate all the bombs I hid in the government buildings. But doing that would be too easy, I
wanted to test the city’s guardian angel and what she’s capable of. You are their last hope, Bahahaha, and
here’s how you can stop me: First you need to go to… ACHOO…” The man sneezed hard, and the
atmosphere around him changed.
Bui 5
“Charlie? What am I doing here? And what kind of cheap costume is this?” He said to our little
heroine with the kind words she knew and loved.
We went to the restaurant that father used to take me when he was too busy to cook. Everything is the same, the music, the people, the food, but it was not the same without him. I must focus to find what kind of clue he left behind. Susie, the waitress came to greet us: “Welcome C! You brought company, should I get you the usual?” “Yes that would be nice, thank you Susie.” I wanted to eat something different, to try something new, but what if the clue is about the food father and I loved so much? Back in the day, we always get the same thing, fried fish and pancakes, it was a weird combination, but we loved it. They were like an energy boost to keep us motivated. Eating them feels like that happened yesterday.
Giang Bui 