Pay attention y'all - this is award winning stuff.  I read this yesterday for my school's Research and Creative Works Conference, where it tied for third. Out of four entries. (I'm still laughing about it.)

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Four Rules (For My Funeral)

         If you are reading this, congratulations. You’ve been selected to organize my funeral, and this probably means that you were very close to me. This also means that I should acknowledge the fact that your friend is no longer on this earth and realize the pain that comes with such a loss. I’m sorry that I cannot be there to comfort you, but if I’ve done life right, I’ll be in a better place. So don’t be upset. But if you want to be sad, I’d rather it be because I passed before we got to go to a Beyonce concert or go indoor skydiving together, and not because you are sad for the life un-lived.

        In the wake of such an event, you have been charged with a huge task: sending me off to the next life. Don’t worry though—this document contains all my thoughts, so there really is little planning involved. You just have to put it all together and send out the invites. Easy.

         Rule 1. (and I cannot stress the importance of this detail) I do NOT want an open-casket affair. I don’t need people passing by during the viewing with trite comments like, “She looks so peaceful.” Never have I seen any person that I love, after they have died, and walked away feeling like it was an uplifting experience. There was no closure. I realize that this is not the case for everyone, but I have never enjoyed it, so I am going to revoke that privilege. Sorry about it.

If it is closure you are looking for, then surely there is something better you can come up with then looking at my dead body. Perhaps you can go on the dream trip that you’ve always wanted to take, and you can put my picture in a locket and symbolically “take me with you.” That’s a touching gesture, I think.

Rule 2. Please invite the different teachers and professors that influenced me over the years. This request is especially intended for Mr. Russo from senior year. In my teenage angst, I did not appreciate his efforts to help me understand chemistry, but like most teachers who are new to the game, he did not give up. I would not have graduated high school without him—I mean, actually.

      Rule 3. A curse upon you and your posterity if you serve ham and “funeral potatoes.” Am I no different than the others who have gone before me? Why are we wasting our time with frozen potato cubes? I insist that Kelsi Wright prepare a three- course meal—Caesar Salad, Chicken-Fettuccine Alfredo with freshly grated cheese, and various flavors of pie for the luncheon.

        I want you all to eat like royalty, for crying out loud. If my death has not reminded you of the frailty of life, let my menu remind you that it should be lived without regret. Treat yourself to two or three pieces of pie.

Rule 4. I do not want this to be a sad event. Under no circumstances is Meghan Kelly allowed to speak—she never has a nice thing to say about anything, it seems. Do not ask my friend Mitchell either, as he will inevitably wax on about the emptiness that accompanies death and depress us all tremendously. Instead, ask Amy Ham or one of my grandmothers, as they are some of the few who think I am wonderful and see me in a golden, impenetrable light.

        I would like for there be a collection of my favorite animal videos. Do not let this video exceed over two minutes—brevity is key here. Include lots of sloths, as well as the clip of the guy beatboxing to a goat. If some audience members don’t laugh, kindly re-seat them at the back of the room. This obviously indicates that they were not close enough to me in life to understand that this junk was funny to me, and do not deserve to sit next to my family and other people who were.

        I also think it would be a good idea to throw in some humorous anecdotes about my life. Feel free to share the time I accidentally used the men’s bathroom at a friend’s show, or the fact that my mom had to dope me up with Benadryl when I was a toddler, just to take me to church.
        If you must cry, let it be out of joy found in old memories and not because you are upset about my passing.

       I love you and I know you will honor my wishes and throw me the best funeral I could ever have. I will watch from the heavens and smile upon you.

- Lexie

P.S. Go ahead and send an invite to Beyonce, even though I know she won’t go. I’ll tell myself that it was because she was too busy doing charity work in Liberia or something, but send one anyways.

So this semester, I'm in a creative non-fiction class. I've never considered myself to be much of a creative writer, but I took it because I like my professor and I came to love the class as well. 

This was for our "open letter to someone who is unlikely to respond" assignment. It's mostly about me and my roommates, though I don't mention them. I think it says something about us - our trash can is across the parking lot and we have to take it out like once a day. But hey, what are you going to do.

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An open letter to the neighborhood cats that get into my trashbag,

I suppose it should be my own fault, leaving the trash bag on the porch overnight. And I suppose it could be my fault that I buy such cheap plastic bags that it seems like they’re more for holding trail mix and not sharp-edged cereal boxes and opened cans, but I’m a poor college student and I don’t need to explain myself to you, cat.

     Too many days have passed when I’ve hesitantly stood at the door, afraid to open it and see what fresh hell you’ve dug up from my garbage. Do you think I have time to clean that up as I’m rushing out the door to class? 

I’ll have you know that you add an unnecessary amount of anger into my life, when I am usually a peaceful and content individual. You endured my yelling and shoe-throwing as I caught you in the act, darting fearfully down the stairs. Once, I saw one of you underneath the tire of my car and I seriously contemplated the idea of jamming my keys into the ignition and starting it, indifferent to whether you lived or not. Let that be a lesson to you all! I would shout after the deed was done, twirling the keys on my finger.

I have harbored a heathy dislike against the haughty nature of felines for many years now, but as a general animal lover, I’ll admit that there are reasons why I should feel sorry for you. I understand that it is cold and difficult to find food. One of you is missing a tail, for Pete’s sake—I can’t imagine it’s an easy life. It’s the survival of the fittest for your ragged troupe, I get it.

Others might say that it’s easiest to just take out the trash already, but I’m not about to lose this fight—especially to a bunch of feral, homeless cats.

Sincerely annoyed,

Lexie

First off, I should mention that I made a Christmas cd.

Sometime after my birthday in November, I started feeling listless. The weather was getting colder, Daylight Savings meant that the days were getting shorter. I fall into a pit of S.A.D. every year, around this time.
I am powered by the sun, like many other people who are affected, and it's just something we have to deal with.

I figured it would be a good idea to throw myself into some sort of project that I could get excited about and look forward to each day. I decided on the Christmas cd.

I worked on it for several weeks. Some things ended up being a lot harder than I thought like it would be (like singing like Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas" - GEEZ) and things were recorded several times. And then again one more time.

Despite a few trial-and-error recording sessions, I had a really fun time making this. It served its purpose, and gave me a chance to be a bit creative and experiment with different sounds and instruments. I also shared it on fb, and I'll share it here.

To be honest with you, my favorites are: Christmas Waltz, Carol of the Bells, and O Come Emmanuel.