Multicursal: a portfolio by Natalie Schliekelman by ODYSSEY Media Group

multicursal Natalie Schliekelman

theme essay The theme of my project is “multicursal.” Multicursal means a maze or labyrinth that has several different possible paths to the center. I think of my project as representing a sort of multicursal labyrinth — a creative exploration dedicated to the confusion of not knowing who you are or what your future will hold. The “labyrinth” so to speak is a confusing, disorienting journey to discover the concept of the self — a selfdiscovery with no right answer, where there are countless different versions of yourself you could find along the way. My pieces follow a natural progression, from darker and more emotional, to those that are more hopeful and encouraging. As with my 2020 Creative Writing Project, it is split into three sections: the Wandering, the Reeling, and the Finding. The Wandering focuses on pieces about loss of self. The characters in these are wandering, lost, trying to find themselves and where they belong. Only one of these is personal, which is intentional, and the rest focus on different characters, all young girls, finding their place in the world and struggling with not being able to define themselves satisfactorily. My second section, the Reeling, focuses on dramatic moments of metamorphosis. The word “Reeling” comes from Taylor Swift’s “All Too Well” short film, as it is one of the sections of the film, the one where the main character experiences a huge change that she has to contend with. The Reeling is about those big changes, about moments that force true character growth. The third section is the Finding. It has pieces that are a little but more upbeat, and are about knowing yourself and feeling safe in knowing that your future has happiness in it. The Finding is still about a journey of self-discovery, but it is a happy exploration, of feeling confident in who you are and who you will become.

the wandering 7

bygone destinies // villanelle

constellation reflection // free-verse poem

beautiful pawn // monologue

the reeling 11

fractured future // short story

sun and moon // blank verse poem

the finding 16

happiness; map on a wall // letter to my future self

In search of joie de vivre // to-do list poem

epilogue 21

for Ms. Kelli // free-verse poem

soundtrack to my life // Spotify playlist collection

colophon

about the author

Natalie Schliekelman is a senior at Clarke Central High School and the 2021-22 Managing Editor for the ODYSSEY Media Group in Athens, Georgia. She aims to tell the diverse stories of Clarke Central and the Athens community. In her spare time, she likes reading, hiking, crocheting, or taking care of her houseplants. Photo by Aza Khan

the wandering

bygone destinies

villanelle

Frozen in place, she is lost inside her mind

Her future is free of the world she left behind

Dust collecting on forfeited potential

She no longer fears becoming tangential

Trapped in time with an escape she cannot find

She trusted when she was told, the world is kind

She wouldn’t see, but she is free from destiny defined

She believed compassion was influential

She learns to see her mosaic as reverential

Frozen in place, she is lost inside her mind

Frozen in place, she is lost inside her mind Trapped in time with an escape she cannot find

Now she knows that grand destinies are unkind None can choose whether they are consequential Trapped in time with an escape she cannot find

Mired in the past of the world she fell behind She fears her desperation is non-essential Frozen in place, she is lost inside her mind

constellation reflection

free-verse poem

she is lost in a constellation and if it’s any consolation,

lovers will look at the sky and trace her outline and because she is an idea of a person, an outline

she will watch them and wonder if she was meant to have someone else be her second half, her meant

to-be, because she cannot imagine that she could ever stand whole on her own. she was never told she could

do anything, and like a beautiful fool, she believed that ditsy was all her name would ever be believed to signify. all she can see are the stars that surround her and she cannot find herself worthy to be surrounded

by the eminences of myth. what she does not see is that a myth is not a medal and she cannot see that she is trapped among stars that have been screaming since the day the universe was born. screaming

for a breath and for a choice in the design of a universe that revels in its own cruel design

tragic naivete that she has, she believes it is consolation that her shape was placed upon her through a constellation

Her future is free of the world she left behind She no longer fears becoming tangential Trapped in time with an escape she cannot find

She wouldn’t see, but she is free from destiny defined She learns to see her mosaic as reverential Frozen in place, she is lost inside her mind Trapped in time with an escape she cannot find

beautiful pawn

monologue

Abstract: This monologue is based on the story of Ariadne, from the myth of the Labyrinth. She gifts Theseus a ball of thread which allows him to navigate the Labyrinth and kill the minotaur, and then he takes her with her when he leaves Crete. He then leaves her behind on an island. I thought this was a particularly potent description of the reality for Greek women in myths. ARIADNE: The first time I saw him, I thought he was a god in disguise. A beautiful boy, muddied and eyes downcast, with an immutable aura of power. Disguised among the spoils of my mother’s lust and my father’s hunger for power — divinity finally coming to purify the corruption in Crete. I should have known that the gods never care enough to protect the rabble who worship them. Men in fear will pray out of necessity, but those who are content will only ever pray out of obligation. It is a ceaseless fact of humanity that we will always believe we came across our good fortune out of our own skill and goodliness, and so we pray at an altar to our egos in the name of the gods. An unhappy man will throw himself, defenseless, at the feet of those same gods, because to him, it is impossible that he could have ever brought that misfortune down upon himself — it must be some fate greater than he. The truth of him was worse than a god. I believed he was my fate, come to rescue me from my paper prison. He was simply a harbinger of the cruel twists the Fates decided were to be my providence. I could almost wish that I had forged my cruel fate at all, even a wicked one. That my twisted destiny was in some way deserved, and perhaps in a previous life, I was a cruel villain. Or that my complaints of a litany of paper cuts were the cries of a selfish girl, and my fate was to be a culmination of every

pain that I should have considered instead of my own. Painful to consider is that even in my two-faced freedom, I was only a marionette of the Fates, through no agency of my own, with no cause nor effect from my own doing. In my worst moments, I fear that I was to be a pawn even in my finality, and that my misfortune is recompense for my father’s crimes against all that is good. To call me a pawn would be an overstatement of my worth. Even a pawn can checkmate a king. The culmination of my practicality was simply a plot device, a prize, in someone else’s hero journey. No bildungsroman of my own. Ariadne, the pretty face and heartsick fool, gifting the hero with what he needs because I think he is handsome and I want him to make me his own. Do you ever consider that maybe I just wanted to end the reign of the monster? That the only way I could think of to escape my insubstantial fetters was to give myself away to another man? I present him with my intimate threads, entwining myself in him in the hopes of pleasing. Girls are merely bedside pawns and those who cannot shape their lives are better dead. I gave everything to a hero who turned out to be no more virtuous than a monster in a maze. I was nothing more than a scrap to be discarded, once all of my use was done and he believed that every piece of me belonged to him. When did he start seeing my devotion as desperation? On that island, I dreamed that perhaps I could finally be free of dominators. Long ago, I learned to never give the gift of my soul to a man, and I dreamed that I could finally set her free, like a dove from a cage, a herald of love and freedom. I should have known better than to weave myself a fantasy. No matter what sentience the imagination creates, a doll is still just that: a beautiful toy.

the reeling

fractured future

short story

*citations can be found on page 25

“No sigh relieved her speechless woe, She had no voice to speak her dread.”

When she looks into her mother’s pleading eyes, does she believe her promises that this time things will be different?

Eden gazes into the mirror and she is paralyzed by expectation. She is supposed to make the right choice. She is supposed to do the right thing, and everything will be okay. She is supposed to do the right thing and everyone will be okay. Everyone tells her what the right thing is. No one seems to think that she could have any doubt about it, but she knows that her heart of hearts has not reached a consensus on what the right thing to do is. It’s what’s best for everyone. Think about the children. What would they do without a mother? Is there ever a time that no mother is better than a mother who is falling apart?

“… Shade of a shadow in the glass, O set the crystal surface free!” Eden gazes into the mirror and she sees a scared little girl. She was never allowed to be that scared little girl, not since she was six years old, but she is haunted by her. She can see her screaming and crying in the back of her eyes. Maybe she will choose the second option, the option where they are separated from the mercurial love of a mother who cannot keep herself, and are placed with distant strangers who will keep a glass wall closing off their love and a roof over their heads. Food on the table and peace in their minds. But not love. Can she choose stability over love? Can she choose a world where she could finally be free of Atlas’s curse, of a paralyzing pressure to hold the world on her shoulders?

“And in her lurid eyes there shone The dying flame of life's desire…” Eden gazes into the mirror and she sees her mother. They have the same dark brown waves, although her mother’s is cut into a bob, and Eden’s trails midway down her back. They have the same heart-shaped face, the same eyes, round and a shade of brown just darker than chestnut. Eden wonders if her eyes will one day share her mother’s fatigued gaze. The disillusionment with a world that deals nothing but hard hands. Perhaps she is naive to believe that there is still any gleam of hope in her eyes. There is still hope; she can still see the world where things are okay, just out of reach. A world where her mother dances in the kitchen again, and cooks things that aren’t frozen pizzas and takeout Chinese. Where her mother helps the littles with homework and puts bright red coats and striped hats on them every morning before they leave for the bus. Where family time and holidays are a celebration instead of a ticking time bomb. Can she gamble their futures on the promise of a fantasy?

“Pass - as the fairer visions pass Nor ever more return, to be The ghost of a distracted hour, That heard me whisper: - 'I am she!' — “The Other Side of a Mirror” by Mary Elizabeth Coolridge Eden gazes into the mirror and she knows it is up to her. She is the one who has to make the decision for all of them. She knows that she cannot live, afraid, in a hall of mirrored futures forever, looking desperately for the one that is pictureperfect. She will have to take a risk and create the world that she wishes for, one that she will not have to carry on her back. Eden turned away from the shattered pathways, and focused on smoothing the jagged edges of her own path.

sun and moon How do I begin to count the ways I love you? warm gold love sunshine melodies an eternity spent in your embrace

silvery midnight world without color a desolate song How do I begin to entangle all the pieces of you?

blank verse poem

the finding

happiness; map on a wall

letter to my future self

*citations can be found on page 25

To a version of myself I haven’t yet met — “I have made up my mind to live happily, feeling beautiful beneath the trees” — Lucy Dacus I know what I want in my future. I have grand dreams of saving the world and making my voice matter and being an advocate and a scientist and a leader. I can’t say that I don’t want that. In some ways, I want that more than anything; to feel fulfilled and to be a part of something bigger than myself and to know that I existed for something, and that I will have made an imprint on the world such that the memory of who I am does not fade forever from the world. But when I look to my future, I know that to put those expectations on myself will only lead me to disaster. So here is what I want: I want moments of laughter and belonging. Around a bonfire. In an intense discussion about Marvel’s “The Avengers.” in the arms of a friend. I want my fingers to spark with creativity that does not go to waste. I want to write, even if it is just for myself. Especially if it is just for myself. I want to write, and create, and feel the magic of the world in myself, and harness it for something. I want to hold on to the little pieces of the world that make me the happiest -- reading a good book. Crocheting. Wearing flannel and knock-off Doc Martens. Having picnics and dancing to Taylor Swift and walking down city streets. I want to have mornings spent out in nature, with crisp dew on the grass and brisk blue in the skies. I

want to hike up a mountain and see a green, glorious valley spread out beneath my feet. I want to maintain a close relationship with my sister, and with the rest of my family, even if the miles divide us. I want to still have the people I love in my life, and while I know some people will fade out of my life, I want to still carry the people that matter most in my heart. I want to have a voice that is heard, whether it is only by my closest friends or by a crowd of thousands. I want to be seen as worthy to my humanity and my opinions, and to contribute my voice to something, anything, no matter how small. Future self, here is my message to you: I hope you are finding happiness in the world around you. I hope that there are little pieces of joy in every day you have, and that you have people you love and people that love you. With that in mind, I hope you know it’s okay if you aren’t happy all the time. It’s okay if some days are sad and some days you can’t get out of bed. Just as long as you wake up each morning and decide that there is something in the world that is worth living for, it’ll be okay. I hope you know it’s okay if you

aren’t changing the world the way you want to, or if even just staying on top of things and getting work done is out of reach. Your worth is not determined by your productivity. I hope you know if it’s okay if the things I used to base my self-worth on aren’t happening anymore. I hope you know that we can, and should, evolve, and sometimes that evolution will not be in a manner that we initially thought we would. More than anything, I hope you know that I’m proud of you, no matter what. I’m proud of you if we’ve accomplished every dream I’ve ever had and more. I’m proud of you if your life looks completely different than anything I ever thought my future would hold. I’m proud of you even if you’ve failed at everything you’ve tried to do, even if you’re so

burnt out that you can’t imagine moving forward. No matter what happens, I’m proud of you, and I’m sure your future self is too.

With all my love, 17-year-old Natalie

In search of joie de vivre

to-do list poem

Take a walk past midnight in a city, with the thrill of a risk and the chill of night and fog. Gaze up at city lights, towering high above in skyscrapers that seem to brush the sky.

Pile into a too-crowded car with friends and take a winding, wandering road trip through a scrapbook of future memories

Run through ocean waves in the dead of winter and night, heightened by just enough adrenaline to keep from succumbing to the cold, and feeling more alive than ever before

Lay in a cottage-core worthy rustic meadow and paint imaginary shapes onto the clouds

Bury my nose in a riveting book, surrounded by the scent of old books in a bibliophile’s haven, a perfectly eccentric hidden gem of a bookstore or library

Learn the constellations, and trace the map of the same sky that eons of humanity have looked up at

Climb a mountain and see a panorama of a valley spread out thousands of feet below, a tiny doll’s village made up of a thousand people’s stories

Fall asleep in the warm arms of a lover or friend. Find home in the company of someone who lights up my world

Lose my mind at a thousand fascinating exhibits in a hundred different museums. Spend my days filling my mind with a million fun facts to entertain myself with and pass around like gifts in conversation.

Create something with my own two hands, and see a loved one’s face light up with joy when I give it to them, just because I love them.

For Ms. Keli

free-verse poem

Mosaic of memories You had a sunflower for a soul/ Smiling like you could light up the world You were always laughing and singing Pushing long blonde hair out of your eyes and revealing an infectious smile Giving out your love like nectar to a honeybee A collage of hugs and smiles and color/ You painted a watercolor mural of children’s joy Light of love always lit within us — your eclectic spirituality

You were loved so dearly Hymnals burst forth as melodic memorial Empty your mind. We decide the waves we give. Be like water. As the skies darken and rain pours into the hearts of a congregation When a great soul dies the air becomes light You were a butterfly in the depth of the darkness Was it hard to beam light in every moment? Did you ever have to dredge your hope from the depths of your blood and marrow?

Your prayers manifested sisters A circle of fierce love and always singing You loved life and life loved you back

Song of the Project: “Daylight” by Taylor Swift Bygone Destinies

happiness; map on a wall

sun and moon

in search of joie de vivre

colophon All written work was created by Natalie Schliekelman and edited by the iliad Leadership Team and David Ragdale. “multicursal” headlines were printed in Tangerine. Bylines were printed in Calluna Regular. All body copy was printed in Calluna Regular. All spreads were designed by Eva Orbock using Adobe InDesign, Photoshop, and Illustrator. Page 13 features a digital graphic by Eva Orbock titled “day and night.”

works cited Page 13, Fractured Future by Natalie Schliekelman referenced the following work: Coleridge, Mary Elizabeth. “The Other Side of a Mirror.” Poems, London: E. Mathews, 1908, pg. 8-9. Page 18, happiness; map on a wall by Natalie Schliekelman referenced the following work: Dacus, Lucy. “Map on a Wall.” Spotify. open.spotify.com/ track/2e6bVBarD65qWsqXgPGinf