Twitter - Where I tell people about my fun observations.

Wattpad - Where I write and let other people read it.

Facebook - Where I procrastinate.

4770 St Joseph Creek Rd, Lisle Il 60532

(630)478-1055

ellekammerer@gmail.com

Work Experience:

West Suburban Bank, Lombard IL, Teller (Oct. 2011- Present)

• Help customers with daily banking activities, including checking and savings withdraws and deposits, transferring money, and paying bills
• Responsible for large amounts of cash, a vault, and opening and closing the buildings

Villa Louis State Historical Site, Prairie du Chien WI, Interpreter (May 2007-July 2010)

• Interpreted the site for groups on tours
• Worked and implemented special event tours
• Edited material for site website and educational material for special tours

Viterbo University Student Union Desk, La Crosse WI, Receptionist (August 2007-May 2010)

• Communicated with students, guests, faculty and other members of the staff
• Managed and updated confidential student information and mailing databases

Touchstone Magazine, La Crosse WI, Literary Editor (August 2008-May 2009)

• Organized and solicited poetry and prose submissions for publication
• Edited for spelling and grammatical mistakes
• Submitted magazine for final publication by the deadline
• Planned and managed special events, poetry readings, and publication  party

Viterbo Student Activities Board, President (September 2006- May 2010)

• Produced budgets and budget proposal presentations

• Executed events and coordinated performers, club members, and other personnel
• Organized performer, member, budget, and event files and databases
• Received award for success and achievements as President

Education:

De Paul University, Chicago, Illinois –Present

• Masters of Arts degree in Writing and Publishing
• Anticipated graduation date Dec 2013

Viterbo University, La Crosse, Wisconsin – 2010

• Bachelors of Arts degree in English with emphasis in Writing
• GPA: 3.2

Other Skills

• Extensive knowledge in Microsoft Word, PowerPoint, Excel, Outlook  2010
• Typing speed of 55 words per minute
• Experience writing for newspapers and magazines
• Blogs, social networks and media, and other online communication

I had my heart broken once
It hurt, but I am ok.
Words hurt, thoughts cut
I didn’t bleed.

The best way to impress a girl is to get her the big box of crayons. The one with the sharpener in the back. Or colored pencils. Markers are too hard to work with. They don’t blend. The red is never actually red. The blue is too dark.

Hello.

Hello?

Hello!

Hello!!

HEllO!

Hello!?

Hello…

Hel,lo        (ok this one is not real but you get the picture)

Punctuation!!

I’m in a boot and

I was driving fast and

I really could use some cruise control man.

Driving under the influence is dangerous.

Driving in a boot is tricky and dangerous.

I pulled my Achilles tendon by constantly putting my foot into a driving position.

Now I am in a boot.

I will now pull a muscle in my other leg because I have to drive with my left foot.

Then I will be in a boot.

The boot circle of life.

Dearest Becca,

It has been more than a year since we have parted ways. You returned to your beloved Ohio and I was taken to Chicago, nearly halfway to you. In the past year, I have thought about the time that we spent together. The year, or so, I can’t remember exactly, we shared an apartment with our roommates, was a time I will never forget. You used me, in a good way of course. I sat along the wall holding that lamp. Well, you did use the lamp more than me, but the lamp and I worked through that issue before we parted ways. Ah those were the good times.

Since we separated, I have had a good life. I have been living in the Chicago area. It is different from La Crosse. My new owner is an interesting character. She can’t quite seem to figure out what she wants to use me for and she has removed my shelf to use as a glorified mouse pad for a strange computer game she plays consisting of blocks, mining, and something called “creepers.” I believe she calls it Minecraft. She also, occasionally, cleans me off and uses me for her computer. I find this humorous because she always has the intention of finishing some sort of writing, either a chapter in her book, editing her portfolio for her graduate school application, or writing a job cover letter. She never actually finishes anything.

One evening I found myself covered in scrubs, you know, the clothing. My new owner works at a blood bank. All those college skills aren’t really going to use. She, apparently, packs boxes for a “living.” She doesn’t like it, but it is hard to get a good job out there right now. She seems as optimistic as possible.

Enough about me. How have you been doing since the last I saw you? How is the family? Mother? Are you able to find a job? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in so long. I do occasionally see facebook posts from you, but there is never anything to suggest how you are doing post-graduation. Please do facebook back.

Till we speak again.

Formally,

Your Table.

Some think that his profligate behavior lead to his ultimate demise, when, in reality, it was his love for cheese.

Hyperbole– purposefully exaggeration, for effect

He claimed that this was the best thing to ever happen to the country, but everyone knew that it was a mere hyperbole because green ketchup was strange.

Erudite– Scholarly, bookish, learned, Nerd

A collection of college professors and Comic con may both be considered erudite depending on which group is asked. The other simply claims the other is just nerdy.

Connoisseur- an expert with expert knowledge or a discriminating taste

Some may think she is a connoisseur of wine because of her good taste and recommendations, however she prefers the term wino.

Husband- to manage economically or to use sparingly

She was husband in her finances by not allowing her husband near them.

Eloquent- moving and persuasive especially in a verbal manner

Though his words were eloquent, no one really understood his point.

Diatribe- and abusive type of speech

Though his words sounded eloquent, their translations were diatribe.

Convoluted- intricate and complicated

She claims to have a convoluted set of emotions, but she is just having a bad day.

Dissonance- a harsh, disagreeable combination, especially in speech

There was an obvious dissonance in his speech and his wardrobe.

Ambiguous- uncertain or doubtful or can be interpreted in many ways

When asked about his choice in socks, he was ambiguous as to his reasoning.

Nuance- a subtle expression of meaning or quality

There was a subtle nuance about him after he showered.

I had spent the last four years of my life dedicated to the idea that what I was doing would be the most beneficial to my success as a human being. This idea is planted into the heads of the youth much like the mechanical arms in a factory screw on the lids to mass produced mayonnaise. And much like mayonnaise itself, this idea seems like a good one, but then you realize that it is absolutely disgusting on its own. Only after you add the rest of the sandwich does the mayonnaise reach its potential, but more about that later.

The factory starts four years before the initiation. When a young thirteen year old steps into the high school guidance counselor’s office to create their schedule for the year. She shows the student a list of required subjects, English, biology, math, etc. When the student decides that she is going to take three biology classes to fulfill her science requirement, the counselor intercedes by claiming that it will be easier to get into college if she takes a chemistry class. So, the student takes the chemistry class, then barely passes, but the seed is planted. College. Every academic decision after this meeting is based on what is the most beneficial for this seed.

When the time finally comes four short years later to decide where the student would like to attend college, the decision is out of her hands. The process of elimination and rejection is all based around the decisions that she had made the past four years. The decisions she thought would help her seed grow. For instance, her almost failed chemistry class is keeping her from attending the best university in the state (she would have aced biology). Eventually, the final destination is chosen. Eventually, she accepts her fate. Eventually, she becomes excited. Eventually, she begins to believe that this experience will better her and lead her to the life she has always seen in the movies.

When she arrives, she is nervous, scared, unsure, but is eventually thrown into the deep end. She is engulfed and wonders everyday why she chose to do this to herself. After two years, she just keeps thinking that it is almost over. Only one more year until all the stress is gone; one more semester. Finally, it is all over and life can begin.

During those four years, her idea of college being the means to a better end grew into a wonderful plant of dreams, hopes, and plans. She had been told over and over that it would all be worth it. All she needed was to finish, receive her paper, and officially have those two simply letters behind her name. Those letters would get her a good job. Those letters were all that she needed. They could give her anything and everything (especially in a major such as English where you can get a job in anything.)

Mayonnaise. The paper, her letters, her degree is the mayonnaise. The process of college is the factory, beginning as ingredients in high school and being mixed and finished in college, all bottled up at graduation and topped with a lid. Now when she applies for her plethera jobs, she sends out her information, her jar of mayonnaise. Jobs receive this mayonnaise and realize how absolutely revolting it is all on its own. She soon realizes that they are looking for a whole sandwich. What the factory doesn’t tell the mayo is that the rest of the sandwich is found in experience, higher education, and a job; bread, lettuce, and lunchmeat.

I am a jar of mayo.

I am a jar of mayo working at a department store in a new state, two suburbs away from my house, working for minimum wage with more debt than most countries, car-less, friendless, helpless. I am a jar of mayo working in a mayo-less profession trying to become a sandwich. I am twenty-three, with a B.A. in English, enough talent to do any job as well as a professional, and enough determination to make it happen. If only the economy sandwiches hadn’t fallen on the floor and ruined all the mayonnaise.

I was a passenger of this river one Friday afternoon only my destination was not the outside world. Instead, I floated my way down the river, avoiding swinging doors, full backpacks, and being run-over, to the principal’s office. Here, I watched the river empty out of the building down to the last trickle only fifteen minutes after the bell. I was trapped. I couldn’t leave.

“What is taking them so long?” Leo, principal, coach, uncle, the multi-purpose man, was pacing back and forth across the room. We had been waiting in his office for an hour and a half. “It can’t possibly take that long to get there and back.” He peered through the blinds on the window that looked out to the parking lot. “How far is Redhill?”

“About fifteen minutes away.” I said, sitting in his desk chair with my feet up. My uncle Leo was an impatient man. This may not have been the best quality to have in a high school principal, but it seemed to work well for him. Most of the kids knew to stay out of trouble, not that that stopped many of them.

“Maybe we should go home. If Ben is with them, then there is a good chance they will never make it back.” Victoria, my sister, was sitting across the desk from me reading Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew for her English class. She would occasionally bite her lip, keeping herself from saying something out loud. She enjoyed Shakespeare way too much for a high school senior.

Tori and I lived with our Uncle Leo Whistler. We moved to Messina when we were kids, about 7 and 10-ish. Our parents were killed in a car accident on their way back from visiting our grandma in Springfield. It had been a tragic “car collides with tractor” accident. This is what happens when farmers don’t put the reflectors on right. Uncle Leo’s became home. He would never admit it, but he liked having us around, it made his house a little less empty, now it wasn’t just him and his daughter, Claire.

Claire was sitting on the floor against the wall. She was working on a Spanish assignment and twisting her dark curly hair around her finger. She was ignoring everything, as usual. I shouldn’t say that she was ignoring everything, more that she didn’t get involved, so she stayed quiet, working on her own things. I wished I could be more like Claire. She wasn’t involved most of the time.

“Seriously, Leo, can we go home?” Tori asked impatiently. “I have some stuff I want to get done.”

“No,” he said, without even turning around. “I don’t want any of you driving my new car.”

Tori looked at me and shook her head. I shrugged my shoulders knowing that if I were to say something, I would get the same answer. I tried to tell her that with my eyes, we were close and could usually understand each other that way, but she just rolled her eyes and went back to her book. I leaned back in the chair as far as I could without falling. I decided to play a game called “blow your bangs out of your face.” It was a fun game until I got spit in my hair; strawberry blond with a bit of spit. Wonderful. I am sure it went well with my not perfect pointy face and dull blue eyes.

“Alice, will you sit upright on that chair! You are going to break it” Leo yelled when he saw me. I snapped back into the upright position. He knocked my feet off his desk.