Brutal Honey's Story Corner

Oh, to be 19 again. The angst.

2011-11-23T15:18:00.001-08:00

"Nineteen"

I felt you in my legs
Before I even met you
And when I laid beside you
For the first time
I told you
I feel you in my heart,
And I don't even know you
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
I was nineteen
(Call me)
I felt you in my life
Before I ever thought to
Feel the need to lay down
Beside you
And tell you
I feel you in my heart,
And I don't even know you
And now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
Now we're saying
Bye, bye, bye
I was nineteen
(call me)
I was nineteen
(call me)
Flew home,
Back to where we met
Stayed inside
I was so upset
Cooked up a plan,
So good except
I was all alone
You were all I had
Love you
You were all mine
Love me
I was yours right
I was yours right
I was nineteen
(call me)
I was nineteen
(call me)

So many feelings when I hear this song...

2011-11-23T15:17:00.001-08:00

When you wake what is it that you think of most?
When your bed is empty do you really sleep alone?
If I imagine you, body next to another.

All around me new love and it makes me sad.
All around me feel assured that you'll be back,
If I imagine you, body next to another.

Stop crying to the ocean, stop crying over me.
Stop worrying over nothing, stop worrying over me.
So it's been so long since you said,
Well I know what I want and what I want's right here with you.

On the drive back here I was worrying over nothing.
On the drive back there tears spilling over something.
When I imagine you, body next to another.

In the door and you're there and you're sorry for the fright.
In the door, can I hear you saying you don't wanna fight?
When I imagine you, body next to another.

Stop crying to the ocean, stop crying over me.
Stop worrying over nothing, stop worrying over me.
So it's been so long since you said,
Well I know what I want and what I want's right here with you.
It's been so long since you said,
Well I know what I want and what I want's right here with you.

In a flash it's back to you, just brought attention to the mess.
In a flash you're on top begging me to understand.
If I imagine you, body next to another.

You drop in for a minute and I'm sorry that I didn't drop in sooner
just to see you and see what you've been doin'.
If I imagine you, body next to another.

So it's been so long since you said,
Well I know what I want and what I want's right here with you.
It's been so long since you said,
Well I know what I want and what I want's right here with you.

It's been so long since you said,
Well I know what I want and what I want's right here with you.
It's been so long since you said,
Well I know what I want and what I want's right here with you.

Rough draft-- outline

2011-03-22T20:06:00.000-07:00

I could not stand to look at him the entire car ride over. I had half a mind to walk over instead, but I didn't want to have to explain why I was choosing to walk rather than sit in a car with him for twenty minutes.

When we got there I made sure not to sit too close to him. We never sit close when we're here, but I made it a point to sit further---to actually be distant. Once the crowd stood the organ began to play and the choir began to sing. He opened his mouth to sing and I realized it had been two years since I remember hearing him sing anything. I'd forgotten that he had a beautiful voice that I loved to listen to.

Before we got involved he used to sing to....

Dear Boy # 6

2010-02-28T16:39:00.000-08:00

You're nothing like what I wanted, and for all we know, you're not the last. Regardless, you're in my life now and despite the fact that you grate on my nerves every once in a while, you're still around. It will be a whole year of knowing each other soon and even though I often times wonder why I deal with some of your silliness, I never once thought about my life without you. Right now, it actually pains me to think of my life without you. Things aren't perfect, and I think I always expected things to be. We all have our own illusions.

You make me wonder if this is how love is supposed to be. You make me wonder if you're "The One" and there has only been one other person who has made me feel that way.

It's funny because thinking back at my past relationship, it was around this point in the relationship when I felt like the honeymoon was over. He also started to say and do things that were no longer, "cute" but irritating. And with all of his redeeming qualities, things didn't last. In the end, I just fell out of love with who he was. I'm still kicking myself for that---but don't take that the wrong way. I'm ashamed of how I acted then and he was really an amazing guy, but the bottom line is I fell out of love and nothing could change that. I was ready to move on.

I know you worry about us and about me hurting you. I have a past of doing that to a lot of guys. I poke fun at it and I know it hurts you, so I'll stop. You know I love you and would never leave you without a good reason. I try to tell you as often as I can that I'm happy with US. I really am and I hope that what we have continues to grow into something that we know is true. And if time decides that our relationship has run it's course I hope that we can end things on a good note with no hard feelings. I hope that what we talked about that one night ends up happening and I have this feeling that with a little work and effort we can make it that far.

Love Always.

Dear Boy # 5

2010-02-28T15:54:00.000-08:00

There are times that I think about you and just how closely you resembled my father. You were incredibly impatient, and instead of acknowledging that from the get-go I decided to brush it aside. As our relationship progress I continuously detached from you day-by-day.

You made me feel like a worthless person at times. I constantly question myself now and I probably pick fights where I shouldn't. It's funny how in just a few months you changed me to someone I don't really like. I'm slowly changing that about myself because I'm with someone better. Someone who I know, regardless of what happens, wouldn't say the things you said to me when we broke up. They weren't hurtful because I knew better than to take you seriously, but they were nasty things that no one---even the unfaithful---should utter.

I hope you're happy in your new life and hopefully you're with a new person now, too. I hope you came to realize that we were never right for each other.

Dear boy #4;

2010-01-30T10:18:00.001-08:00

Do you ever drive by my house just to see if the light in my room is on? Do you even think about me at all to justify something like that? I went to our old haunt with a new love and it reminded me of you. I still compare every guy to you, and I hate you for it, except I can't find it in myself to actually hate you because you never did anything to hurt me. But I hate the fact that you were so perfect that I I lost you to my own twisted mind. Last I heard you moved on and I'm sorry to say that I'm jealous of whoever she is. I took you for granted and didn't know what I had.

I don't want you to think that I'm unhappy; I'm not. I'm with someone new and this is the longest I've dated someone since you and I parted ways. I have feelings for him and I know they're true because I know that he can hurt me with just a simple word or gesture.

I've been hurt, too, so if you saw me today I wouldn't be the girl you used to know. I'm more reserved and skeptical. You used to tell me I was beautiful all the time and I believed you, but now I find it hard to believe anyone. I'm not as naive, but I'm just as unique.

Remember when you told me you've never met anyone like me before? I still get that from time to time. You're still the only one to have complimented me eyes---something you probably didn't know meant a lot to me.

Yes, I still think about us, but I know that you're probably not the same person I used to know. It's been a long, long, time. It'd be silly to think that we haven't changed.

This is all so silly, but I can't help it. You meant something to me and I don't think you ever really believed that.

I just wanted you to know.

Short-short July 2009

2009-07-03T07:50:00.000-07:00

Her breath was steady as she stared at me with her anxious eyes and said, "I'm ready."

"Are you sure? " I asked.

"Don't make me change my mind or else I will. Let's just...I mean, I want to."

"Here? I just want this to be---you know---special."

She leaned in closer and her lips made an oval around my upper lip. She kissed me gently at first, nervously. I kissed her back and reached over to hold her hand letting her know she'd be safe and that she had nothing to worry about. I was always there for her.

***

That wasn't the last time we made love in the backseat. I can remember every time. Every touch. Every soft moan she made and that look on her face. She loved me. Her scent, it's still there, permanently attached to the back seat. I've vacuumed and cleaned it dozens of times, but her scent is and will always be there. It haunts me like a reoccurring dream. I've had the car for seven long years. She was there when I bought it, and I wish to God she were here now. I just need to move on.

***
"I can't do this anymore" she started.

"What? You can't sit and watch a movie with me?" I questioned teasingly.

"I slept with someone." Silence. "I don't know why I did it. He was just there when you were out of town for a month and it just happened. I don't know why I did---"

"You slept with someone and you don't know why you did it?" My hands rolled into fists. "You don't just sleep with someone, there's always a reason. So what's yours?"

"I don't have one. I'm sorry! I don't know why---" She started crying then and even though I was mad I couldn't help but think she looked beautiful even with tears rolling down her face.

"It'll be okay..."

It wouldn't be.

***
"How much?"

"$7,000." I paused. " It works great and there aren't that many miles on it."

"Why are you selling it anyway?"

"I'm moving. You know, fresh start, new life, new things, new people..."

"Musta' had some memories in this car? You never forget your first."

"I'm trying."

2009-03-23T14:31:00.000-07:00

I should write a story based on my own relationships and how after my breakups with guys not only do I break their hearts but I also leave them wide open to meet someone new in a matter of weeks.

You'd think---at least logically---that since I break up with them that I would be moving on. Like, I have prospects I want to check out---I never do. I've never broken up with anyone to see what else is out there. I've always broken up because something inside me was telling me that it was time to end things and not drag things on any longer. All of my exes ended up dating someone within a month of my breaking up with them, and although they might have not stayed in those relationships they are all dating someone now and seem happy (at least the ones I know of).

It's kind of weird how that worked out. A friend of mine said, "I think somewhere deep inside all girls are looking for their prince charming." I was worried for a while that I was running away from serious relationships, but it's obvious I was running away from the guys and not the prospect of a serious relationship. I'm jonesing to find the right person to have a long-term relationship with because I miss all that comes along with that. BUT---I'm not going to jump into anything either.

I tend to fall in lust very quickly at the beginning of any relationship and slowly as the lust wears of I see what's in front of me. I hate that and I know I need to remember to take things slow so I don't end up realizing that the person I'm with isn't the person I thought they were. It takes about three months to get to know someone well, and my last relationship fell burden to my realizing that I wasn't happy with the way the relationship was going. Despite the fact that I had a lot in common with the guy I was dating and was physically attracted to him, we didn't have a lot of the same views on life and relationships. I think it took him longer to figure that out.

Anywho, dating doesn't get easier as you grow older, does it? I think I'm more aware of what I want out of a relationship and I realize that I need to slow things down so I don't fall in lust too quickly and miss out on red flags and things of that nature.

A short-short. rough draft.

2009-02-02T10:06:00.000-08:00

He walked up to the door, rang the doorbell twice. The usual routine. He stepped inside and it all began.

"We need to talk."
"What about?"
"How could you possibly not know what about?"
"I don't go around assuming things, dear."
"I think you should sit down."
"I believe you think too much."
"You're choosing your words carefully."
"Are you saying I'm predictable? What does this have to do with anything?"
"It does and it doesn't."
"You want out, just say it!"
"Don't raise you voice at me..."

A pause from both of them. The clock ticks in the background.

"Why?"
"You know."
"Why?"
"I told you to keep your voice down."
"This is going nowhere, just tell me the truth."
"You know. I've told you so many times. You mustn't have been listening."
"You don't love me. You never started to; I know."

She walks over to the kitchen counter. She glances out the window.

"What else?"
"Nothing else."
"Save my number for a rainy day."

-------------------------------------------------------------

2009-01-30T12:02:00.000-08:00

Pace quickens now to breaking point
I sprint to cross and - hear me out
I'm running up and still I tip over
Watch our fortune cross

You're always in my head
Always in my head
Always in my head
-----------------

I'll eventually finish this story. There's something missing that I can't quite pinpoint. It's either going to be incredibly cheesy or pretty decent. I'm hoping I can work through the kinks and make it decent.

I'd hate for it to read like something from Twilight. It's a good series, but it reads more like fan fiction. Cheesy teenage romance, for the lose.

2008-12-29T18:46:00.000-08:00

Meredith Grey: You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales, that fantasy of what your life would be, white dress, prince charming who would carry you away to a castle on a hill. You would lie in bed at night and close your eyes and you had complete and utter faith. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming, they were so close you could taste them, but eventually you grow up, one day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is its hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely cause almost everyone has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they will open their eyes and it will come true.

2008-12-22T23:24:00.000-08:00

It never hits me until a few days after. If I try to force it, it doesn't work. It has to come on its own and it has to be as natural as possible. You feel fine, but at the same time you feel afraid. There's no safety net to catch you if you fall.

It's a scary thought even if it's only been a while. Even if it has only been a month or two or more. It's just there, this void that you know you created. On the one hand, you're relieved because deep down you followed your heart, but at the same time you want someone to--I don't know-- remind you that it'll be like it was before.

It's not always the same. It doesn't get easier, the steps just become clearer.

Keep a few days distance: You distance yourself for a couple of days or a week by being busy with anything. You clean, you go out, you write, you drive. You gain emotional distance from the situation and hope that the other person will realize your distance and prepare. They hardly ever do.
You make up your mind and get clear on your decision: You've been thinking about this for a while before now. You've weighed your pros and cons. Most likely you realized that something in the relationship isn't working and hasn't been working for quite some time no matter how hard you and your partner have tried fixing it.
Be prepared, be clear: Know what you're going to say and be clear. It's the end and not, "We'll see."
Closure: This is always the hardest for me to deal with. Their resistant and upset (totally within their right) and it's hard just to be firm andsay goodbye so they know it's over. They won't understand, and you can't make them understand. [This gets me every time. I always want to help them understand]
No contact: You can't be friends right after a break up. I've tried and failed. There are always questions, there are always unresolved things that come up. Time heals, and time apart is essential after a break up.

The last step is hard. If you part on somewhat good terms there's always that part of you that wants to continue on as if nothing happened. Like, if you had a routine to call someone at night you want to pick up the phone and talk like nothing happened. Except it did. It hurts and you want that back. You want your safety net, but you have to be ready to trust yourself not to fall.

Walking With a Ghost

2008-11-14T18:11:00.000-08:00

Her head is filled with thoughts of someone else. She's currently with someone, but he's not the one on her mind.

Certain things remind her of him, like Strong-bad and Resident Evil. Those are the two things she remember fondly about him. She's got a 3 more photos of him than she does of her long-term ex, and she only dated the guy in the back of her mind for a couple of months.

Nothing ever happened, and that's why he's there. Things didn't end on good terms, but she wishes they had. So he's there in the back of her mind; waiting.

Possibly reposted?

2008-11-07T16:32:00.000-08:00

AGAIN

He's lying

here next to me

as the ceiling fan circulates

our breaths

caressing each other's bodies

we lay next to one another

hand upon sweaty hand

breathing like metronomes

an undefined beat

my eyes shifty to the armless clock

numbers flash

(one-two-colon-zero-zero

one-two-colon-zero-zero)

the wicker waste basket is still full

of our past

and he's here lying next

to me

Renumbered people:

2008-10-23T17:00:00.000-07:00

Dear boy #3,

You know why this time of year always gets to me. I admire a lot of things about you and I think that deep down the feelings I once felt were miscommunicated to you. It's not that I regret not having things work out, it's more like I regret not having things end differently. I was too proud to be a friend.

I don't know if I'll ever lose the memories of you, but I don't care anymore. I just wish you'd stop creeping up on me at the most inopportune times.

Dear girl #1,

I hope you have a reason for never getting back to me. I was young an naive, but I kept trying, especially when I found out about your grandmother passing. I wish things could have been different between us because I miss you a lot of the time.

2008-10-11T14:58:00.000-07:00

He's always in the back of my mind. He just waits there until I have a couple of minutes free and comes out to say hello. He doesn't do it on purpose, he's just always going to be there because our business isn't finished. He's like a ghost.

He's not my last, and he wasn't my first. He was somewhere in the middle. I didn't love him then, but I think I grew to love him. He's got a bigger piece of my heart now then the last person who had my heart.

Why is it that every fall I think about him? Why can't I just forget him?

Just go away...you're not welcome here anymore.

2008-09-30T15:17:00.000-07:00

There's something I wanted to write here, but I haven't got the time.

A long monologue with myself....

2008-09-03T18:45:00.000-07:00

This isn't so much a literary piece as a something I'm thinking about right now and just want to look back on. It's vague for a reason.

I've only just begun. It can't be like this, though. I feel like something is off. There's something missing in my mind. A piece of something, maybe not even a piece but a lint-sized molecule. A pinch of clarity? I think that's what it is. There's no clarity, or reality, or logic in this whole mess.

I feel like I'm in a maze, except once I think I've found the exit it's really just a dead-end. These strangers keep telling me that I'm doing well and that it gets better with time. How cliche and abstract can they get? For some reason their words aren't reassuring, and maybe I AM too hard on myself, but what can I do. I know I can't be perfect from the get-go, but I'd love to feel like I'm even half-way there.

I built up this whole persona when I was teaching in Chicago. I thought I did a good job out there teaching those kids about Chaucer. I received good and constructive criticism from my mentor and my field observer. It doesn't matter. That's the past, and it all seems so cliche now. "You'll be a wonderful teacher some day..."

Some day. Some day. One day, some day I'll look back at my observers notes and laugh. Chuckle, maybe. At the least I'll smirk or sigh and reflect on my journey.

I hope they're right. I hope they prove me wrong. I hope everyone is pretending they're having a good time, when inside they're feeling the same things I'm feeling. I'm the only one in my group that said anything out loud. Is it only me? Every semester I seem to get stuck with people who aren't exactly what I expect. Or rather, this semester I got stuck with a class I didn't expect. Now what do I do when all the answers seem to be hidden in experience?

Experience helps us learn. Practice makes perfect. Learning from our mistakes helps us grow as people. Frank McCort wrote this book titled "Teacher Man". Every time I feel bad I read a chapter or two from his book and feel a little bit at ease.

Sometimes I feel that a lot of teachers live in a fantasy world. They think they're effective and great and that their rode to being that way was this magically easy journey filled with self-knowledge and being born into the profession.

You know what I think? Those lying bastards are full of it. How on Earth can the secret life of a student teacher be made public? Do we sign a form after we get our teaching certificate that doesn't allow us to tell anyone about how ridiculously overwhelming it was?

Maybe it's just our over-confidence. Maybe, some of us go home and remember our mentor teachers telling us about what a great job we did. Maybe that's all we care to remember?

I'm learning. I'm trying. I'm making mistakes. I'm learning. I'm trying again. I'm making mistakes. I'm slowly getting the hang of it all. How come all of my previous work was marked as "GREAT! YOU'RE A WORKAHOLIC! TAKE IT EASY!" What do I do now when I feel like life is racing at me at 50 mph?! I need to work. I need to make sure I'm preparing enough so I know what to do next. I need to be a workaholic, and I still feel like a huge slacker.

I'm new. I need direction. I don't need someone to take me by the hand or to have someone spoon feed me, but I sure as hell haven't done this before. How do I create lesson plans that don't take an hour to create? How do I manage my prep times effectively so that when I start my other class I don't end up falling on my face.

I feel like a little kid sometimes; too afraid to ask for help or advice ALL the time. I could sit with my mentors for hours and hours talking about every little bit of detail I want to, but you know what happens? They need time to prep. for their next class or to talk to a friend or to a student and I can't ask EVERYTHING.

I have a basic grasp of what's going on. There are just some little things I have questions about. And the answers I've gotten so far are, "You'll learn with practice. You'll learn in time... You'll have to feel it out and see what works best for you and the students."

They say, "It takes a while to get a hang of things."

So why do I feel like I should have gotten the hang of it by now? Why do I feel like for every good thing there's at least one bad thing that erases the good thing. Why do I feel like everyone thinks I'm a slacker.

Why do I feel like an outsider? Why can't I really fit in. Why do I have to be a student and a teacher at the same time? That's why I feel out of place. I'm not faculty and I'm not a student. I'm not a TA or an aide or a janitor or a secretary or a coach or a student or a anything. I feel really disconnected with the school and with everything.

I'm not saying that I need FRIENDS while I'm there, but it sure as hell would be easier to have another student teacher to talk to while at my school. To eat lunch with. To bounce ideas off of.

I need to share my experiences with someone who is also going through it with me. I wish I had a shadow. I wish that I had someone to sit with during lunch and say, "I had this class.... and this happened" and to have them respond, "Well in MY class...this happened."

I want to have conversations about the bad things. I want to vent about them to someone who knows what it's like to experience the negative things.

I don't want to come to class and hear about how "great" something is. I don't want to hear that shit. I don't want to think or feel like I'm the only one who feels shitty about this experience. I don't want to think that I'm the only one who has a major fear of failing at this whole experience or coming out of it thinking, "Shit, that could have better if I had [blank] as a mentor instead" or "...if I worked at [this] school".

Sure, I know it's not going to be easy, Sure, I know it's not always going to be bad. I know it's going to take a lot of mistakes and a lot of learning, but every time I do something poorly I feel like I'm making my university and myself look bad. I feel like my mentors are thinking, "Wow, the education program there is horrible. She can do basic things one of my high school students can do----whoopty-doo!"

I feel like no matter what I'm a failure. I feel like a waste of space. I feel like crying. I'm going to be honest; I feel like crying because I don't think things will get much better. I feel like things will be the same and never change and while everyone else is growing and getting better I'll jut oscillate in one place going back and forth---good and bad, good and bad, good and bad. One day of this, another day of that, but never really being exceptional in either.

I feel like going to bed.

2008-08-10T00:25:00.000-07:00

Crickets.

I had this awesome short-short in my head earlier today, and for the life of me I can't remember what it was supposed to be about.

I feel so uninspired. :-/

Mini-rant. UPDATE.

2008-07-30T09:01:00.000-07:00

I haven't updated this blog in what seems like ages. It's not that I don't have stories and poems floating around my head anymore, it's just that things have been pretty crazy in my life lately. Maybe crazy isn't the right word, but things haven't allowed me to sit down and be creative for quite some time.

The story I was working on pretty much got deleted so all I have left are the bits and pieces I uploaded on here---thank God for that. Computers are unreliable sometimes, so that'll teach me not to print out everything or backup my files next time.

My creativity seems to flow more after some sort of life event. Like, when I broke up with Joe I had all these feelings left inside me that I ended up manifesting into a series of poems. The time after the break up was weird, because as much as I wanted to move on and date, I couldn't Well, I could it I really wanted to be attached to someone, but it would be for all the wrong reasons. I wasn't looking for Mr. Perfect, but I didn't want to get involved with anyone who wasn't right for me, either.

I took some time off dating and then, I realized that I didn't have to fret over it, because what's meant to be won't pass me up. I had a lot of interesting guys enter and exit out of my life, but none of them really stuck for various reasons. Things just didn't click into place. I'm young, so I don't know why I focused so much on finding someone to be with. I guess it's that irrational fear I have of being alone. It doesn't exactly run in my family, but a couple of my aunts have lived mostly single lives and I'm worried I'll be added to the list of lifers. I guess it wouldn't matter much as long as I'd be happy with myself, and I've come to this point in my life where I'm happy with things.

I sway back and forth from time to time because I don't like change (who really does, anyway?). All in all, though, I enjoy the path in life I'm following and I've decided to just enjoy it no matter what. Today things are fine, but you never know what tomorrow will bring (hopefully pie), so why not enjoy it.

I've decided no to stress about things that are beyond my power and to just accept things the way they are...or at least try to accept them.

As for my stories and poems...I'm glad they're housed here in this blog for random people to enjoy and critique. I hope to write more soon, hopefully before the end of the year.

STAY TUNED.

For more info about my life please check out my other blog. Comment for the link.

2007-12-16T18:57:00.000-08:00

There are twenty different smiles I have. Understanding what they all mean will let you know what I'm feeling. I'm not good with words, Steph, I can't say what I feel as easily as you.

Okay, so I figured my short story is going to be a split story. Half of it is going to be about my main character Claire, and the other half is going to be about Stephanie. I don't know how I'll work them together and maybe they'll end up being two different stories drawn together by one common theme---love.

I'm excited and I've got a lot of material to work with. I'm going to have to start compiling it really soon.

2007-12-11T13:35:00.001-08:00

Ah, I love my desktop. It looks like I have a Mac or something, huh? Nope, I just went ahead and downloaded a dock so that it would just look like I had a Mac.

There's so much less clutter this way. I like things nice and simple.

2007-12-10T17:13:00.001-08:00

Nate put the toothpick back into his mouth and swished it around with his tongue for a couple of seconds before he spoke, "Clare, you're being silly."

"I'm not being silly. I don't know what I know or what I want or what I need anymore, Nate!" She sighed heavily and continued, "You don't get it, what if it was meant to be?"

"God, Clare! You believe in that shit?"

She glared at him, "Maybe, but so what?"

"Well if you're going to believe in all of that then..." She cut him off, "Then WHAT?" He could tell she wanted his true opinion, but he couldn't resist. "If you believe in that whole, 'If you let them go and they come back' bullshit, then.... if you love someone you should kick them in the teeth. If they leave than they never loved you. If they come back on a Thursday, then they like you."

"You're a jerk. You're a motherfucking jerk."

"But I made you smile, right?"

2007-12-07T14:03:00.000-08:00

"Are you going to let your life slip by and not recognize what's in front of you?" He looked at her hopeful that he could reach her this one time. He wanted to get through to her; to make her realize.

"I-I don't know." She looked down at her hands, a little exasperated at his question. She didn't want to deal with his questioning their relationship anymore. She wanted him to leave her alone forever, but at the same time she couldn't see her life without her best friend by her side. He questioned her again,"What do you know?"

She got up from the kitchen table and said, "I have to go."

"You're always running away from your problems, Clare. Always." She slammed the door behind her hoping the breeze from the slam would blow away the tears from her eyes.

Quotes from a story I'm working on...

2007-10-15T15:23:00.000-07:00

"Ignorance is bliss, Devon. If you want to keep on believing that this here thing will work between us then you're dead wrong. You can go on believing that you'll change, but we both know you're not going to." Clare let her finger circle around the brim of her teacup.

"I think you're wrong. I don't think you realize what's going on here, Clare. You're so stubborn, damnit! Listen to me for once." He wanted to embrace her, but he knew it would be best to keep his distance.

"Devon, you'll change now but you'll go back to the way things were. I scared you; admit it! I finally let you know I was going to leave you and you got scared. Like I was holding a gun to your head and you had to say whatever just to appease me; to stop me from blowing your goddamn brains out."

He couldn't stop looking at her. All he wanted was to catch her looking at him. All he needed was to see her face; to know how things were going to turn out. Just one look and he'd know. Clare sat staring at her coffee cup. She didn't look up.

2007-10-14T18:04:00.000-07:00

I have a couple of things to add here, but I don't have the time. Dammit.

Rough draft...

2007-10-14T09:50:00.000-07:00

It's not effortless;
he lets it fall to the ground.
His quiver, his grip
loose.
It wafts, slowly twirling in the light
breeze of the autumn night.
It's sudden; split it two
then the realization:
It will always be broken.

Gee, it's been a while.

2007-08-01T22:19:00.000-07:00

During July there was an unfortunate accident with a candle that caused one of the houses in town to burn down.

I love this line and I can't think of anything else that can follow it because it's great on so many levels. It doesn't give away what the unfortunate accident was, and it starts you off with the ending result of the "accident".

What I'd want to do is start a new line and center some asterics under it and begin a new paragraph:

During July there was an unfortunate accident with a candle
that caused one of the houses in town to burn down.
***

Then I'd like to get into the whole story leading up to that part. Who was involved and what led up to it sounds like it'd be pefect for a short story.

I'll see what I can do with it and post something soon.

Random Lyrics made into a poem....

2007-06-14T16:01:00.000-07:00

So, what I did was take a couple of my favorite songs and basically randomly chose lyrics (no, seriously, I randomly did this...). It actually worked out rather nicely, but as a female poet this has weird undertones. Because of that I titled this poem, "What He Told Me After"

The scent of you lingers

But I thought you were sure

And I know that you were scared

Take your lips off of mine

Because I am haunted for wanting

And theres enough gloom in her world, I'm certain

Without my contribution

Oh, the fragile art of a good excuse.

But don't you think that possibly, this time, it's different?

Don't you think that maybe, this time, you were wrong?

I wanted to say that I had nothing to do with

The meaning of love.

The Hańcza Late At Night

2007-05-26T13:19:00.000-07:00

Look, my cousins said,
the moon is out on the lake, come see.
And so, in our pajamas and socks,
we meandered along the boardwalk,
our footsteps soft and dull on old timbers.
But never a creak, never the gentle lap of water.
All was stillness, blackness,
no hint of the moss that draped my paddle
when I guided my canoe in daylight, exploring, wandering
further out into the green.
All was marbled darkness, marbled moonlight.
I never saw a lake so deep
with stars, as if any movement would cause us to drop
into lasting silence.
Life seemed to sleep. And yet,
between the weathered birches, moonlight
touched spiders weaving in the darkness,
their long legs industrious.
In the reeds beside us, something
rustled and dove
and when I leaned my head over,
a beaver’s tail faded
into the depth of stars.

Time

2007-05-26T13:17:00.000-07:00

The sound of the clock
makes me remember the time
tick
the waves of heat
when you touched my hip

tock
your lips softly sticking
to the sweat on my neck

tick
the rush of my heart
beating in tune with yours

tock
the presence of him
as he lays next to me

chime
he turns over and exhales,
“It’s time for me to leave.”

Sometimes

2007-05-26T13:16:00.000-07:00

As I lay here staring,
the winding ceiling fan
circulates the heat and
the smell of someone else
as he lays next to me.
I can’t remember
the way your touch felt
on my skin.

The Last Glimpse

2007-05-26T13:15:00.000-07:00

You gathered everything carelessly
into your bag,
focused your glance on me,
and reached over to caress my cheek.
I can still feel your touch
as I look at you
through the screen door
walking across the lawn
onto the gravel pavement
of our makeshift driveway,
carrying your bag
filled with pieced pictures,
that I tore
in the wicker waste basket
along with the letters
from our past.

2007-05-26T00:37:00.000-07:00

I need to post the final drafts of my poems and the other ones I've written since then.
Remind me by commenting or something.

RoughDrafts

2007-04-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

One:
A tick
From the clock awakens
In me something unsettled,
And slowly it festers

Two:
The tock
From the clock restores
In me something settled,
And slowly it subsides

-----
I rest
My head on your bare chest
My eyes try to focus
On the spot
Where you marked
The wall cracks
With a graphite pencil,
But your breaths
Won't allows me
To keep my head still

I close
My eyes
All I see
Is nothing
So I compare it to you
And your nothing hair
That lays flat
Against the pillow
Filled with feathers
That are lighter then your skin
Which is rough
Against my own

We just lay
With the fan blowing
Air on our damp bodies
Cooling, our souls
Restless, then rested,
We sleep

Conventional

2007-04-06T23:34:00.001-07:00

When I watch you
with your coffee
stained smile
surrounded by the smell
of too old Sumatra beans
brewing, because you could
only afford the best things
once in your life,
the steam from the sleek,
blemished stainless pot
ascends to the ceiling fan
and lingers.

When I watch you
with your dawdling
stride
scuffing
the once lacquered floor,
you reach
the door, close it off
to the [reveries of our minds
which were once
as young as our yearnings.]

Observing you from the kitchen window

2007-04-06T23:12:00.000-07:00

You stand out
In the middle of the yard,
Dusted with frost
Like a glacier.

Through the kitchen window
I can see
The tawny porch light,
Exposing your tattered, faux
Leather loafers
To the snow underfoot.

Puffs from your cigarette
Waft, linger, reach
The clothesline,
Tangle themselves
With the snow
And your silhouette
Spreads itself out
Like a sleet angel

Reaching the door
Turning the handle
You’ve locked yourself out again,
You keep loosing
Your keys, and I
Won’t let you in.

2007-02-01T17:33:00.000-08:00

Pedigree has that commercial on TV right now with the shelter dogs.
If you know me at all you know what I want to do right now.

PS- I want to adopt them all.
PPS- Keep me away from animal shelters for the next week.

2007-01-31T16:17:00.000-08:00

I'll get some poems and stuff up on here as soon as I get the chance. They're coming, I just need to find the time to put them up.

Time time time, it escapes us!

2006-12-30T19:29:00.000-08:00

I've been strapped for ideas for a while, or rather, I have had plenty of ideas and no motivation to do anything with them.

-------------------------

Dear you,
I don't know how this is supposed to work because I have never gone through anything like this before. I've had my heart broken before. I don't care if it was mutual back then, it still hurt. This hurts too, but it's a different kind of hurt. This hurt is something that I thought I caused, but now I realize that you had a lot to do with it. How can you say the things you said and move on so quickly?

-----------------------

White linen on a Sunday morning
Whips and tears in the wind,
Because it is alone
Because it hangs alone.
Harrassed and ripped from the line
It flees
It flees.
It follows the curves of the breeze
And lands in a green pasture.
Alone
Alone,
It sits untouched by anything
Nothing more then a ray of light among the green
Illuminates
Illuminates the world.

Misunderstanding---FINAL EDIT!!

2006-12-08T19:34:00.000-08:00

“…I received a phone call in September.”
¤¤¤
“ ‘ello?” I always managed to swallow the “h” whenever I answered phone calls. While I waited for the person on the other line to answer I looked down at my unfashionable slippers and wondered what my mother would say if she saw me walking around wearing them.
“Iris, dear,” she would say as she’d begin scrunch up her nose and squint her eyes in disapproval, “you know you can always come and live with me if they don‘t pay you enough at that job of yours?” She always had a way of letting me know how much she truly cared.
“Iris?” I heard the voice on the other line whisper. I pressed the receiver closer to my ear. “Mm-hmm, this is she. How can I help you?”
“Don‘t be alarmed, but we haven‘t met before,” the voice on the other end breathed.
“Eh-excuse me?”
“We haven‘t met before,” he chuckled, “in fact, we‘ve never spoken before either.” The line suddenly crackled and I thought I heard people talking and laughing in the background.
“Then how did you get this number, it‘s unlisted?” I said raising my eyebrow. “If the next thing I hear from you is ‘I can see you through your window’ I’m calling the police, you jerk.” As a single twenty-something living in Wakeside I was wise enough to not entertain any pervert’s advances. I stood there looking back down at my slipper still listening for some sort of response. I tried not to breathe.
“My name‘s Theodore, but my friends call me Teddy,” he said placidly.
“Teddy, is it? Well, Teddy, it’s been nice talking about your strange perversions with women you‘ve never met before,” I cleared my throat to make sure he’d hear what I had to tell him next loud and clear, “but I‘m done playing this little game.”
“Let me take you out for a cup‘a Joe, Iris.” I could feel the blood rushing to my face like a thousand worker ants rushing to save their queen. This complete stranger on the other line actually had the gall to ask me out when I was making it clear I wasn’t interested.
“Meet me at the Corner Café in ten minutes if you‘re interested. I‘ll be there waiting,” the line went silent.
Who did this guy think he was calling me out of nowhere, stalking me for God knows how long, and then asking me to meet him at a café just down the block from my apartment? I know what my mother would do in a situation like this. She’d call the police and ask them to look for a guy who looked like a pervert and have them arrest him right there and then. I wasn’t my mother. I trudged over to the kitchen table and sat down. I had been standing for the entire conversation which didn’t last more than five minutes, but my feet felt like I had just worked a forty-eight hour shift at the hospital. Upon sitting down I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on my ankle that my mother didn’t know about. I’d only had it for about a year, but I’d always managed to hide it from my mother any time she’d decide to “drop in”.
“Iris,” she would say, “girls like you don‘t get tattoos. Only loose girls get tattoos.” She would emphasize loose to get her point across. In my mother’s eyes I would qualify as being a loose girl. The next time she’d see me she’d make sure I wasn’t pregnant by making me weigh myself in front of her on the bathroom scale. She was always making me do ridiculous things like this. She never believes anything I tell her, for some reason.
I still had the phone in my hand. I didn’t bother to put it back. I was too busy going over what had just happened and planning out my next move. I felt like I was playing chess. I was never good at chess. A strange man whom I have never met or spoken to until today was waiting for me in a café a couple of blocks from my house and I was sitting at my kitchen table in my outdated slippers, my hair in knots, and my cobalt blue flannel pajamas.
My mother would have a ball telling me about how unladylike I looked at that moment if she lived with me. “Honey, I know you work long hours at the hospital, but you could at least manage to put on some normal clothes.” My mother always made a point to tell me exactly what she was thinking in every situation. “Mom, I like my old jeans from last fall,” I would always tell her as she’d gawk at the piles of laundry on my living room floor.
The bones in my legs cracked as I stood up, “Uh, I‘m getting old,” I muttered to myself. I walked across the hall to my room to see if I could find something decent to wear. “What do you wear when you go out to meet your stalker?” I whispered to myself. I don’t know why I was thinking of going to see him. I was crazy. People would think I was crazy.
I sifted through piles of clothes and came upon something I hadn‘t worn in a long time. “Happy Birthday, Iris!” My mother was always intoxicatingly happy when my birthday came around each year. “I saw this lovely blouse at Macy‘s and I just knew you‘d love it! You love it, don‘t you? Of course you love it, it‘s dazzling!” My mother would lose consciousness for a few hours if she knew I was wearing the dazzlingly overpriced indigo blouse she gave me for my birthday to meet a stalker. That was my main reason for going. I knew it would irritate my mother if she found out I did something dangerous and out-of-character. I guess a little part of me wanted to put a face to the voice on the other end of the phone, too. At least I could describe him to the police if he ended up being a stalker.
¤¤¤
The Corner Café, was swarming with teenage hipsters and cozy couples. I remembered why I avoided staying more than a few minutes at places like this. They made me feel as out of place as a mink coat worn to the post office. I walked over to the barista and ordered myself some Oolong tea. I found a unoccupied table that was dimly lit. “This should be right up his alley,” I thought. He can hide his face in the shadows so I won’t know what to tell the police after he drugs me and makes me walk off with him to some warehouse. This is just great. I sipped my tea, which was still too hot to actually drink. I just needed something to do to calm my nerves. I stared at my tea and began to think.
My mother thinks she knows what‘s best for me. She would think this situation was all wrong. If I told her about this she’d think I was lying about it. She never believes a word I tell her. “Where does a pretty girl like you get silly ideas in her head about meeting strange men at café‘s? Iris, you should know better.” I know she‘s just being a mother, but sometimes I wonder if she even knows who I am and what I want. She thought Derek the attorney was perfect for me.
“So how did it go with Derek?” my mother squealed.
I sighed, “He‘s not my type mom. He went on and on about how his new Jaguar XK which is equipped with an ultra-high performance tire and wheel combination designed to provide maximum dry pavement performance with consideration for hydroplaning resistance, and a thousand other things I didn‘t bother to remember.”
“He was just nervous, dear. He wanted to impress you. Where did he take you out to?” My mother swore she wasn’t the nosy type.
“Restaurant Guy Savoy, I think.” That’s all I wanted to tell her. She didn’t need to know about he had told me four times throughout the course of the meal that the corkage fee was seventy-five dollars, so I’d better drink up and that he promised he wouldn’t take advantage of me if I got a little bit too tipsy. I was ready to cork him at that point.
“Was the food good, I‘m sure it was? He‘s such a charming man, I bet he only dines at the most exquisite restaurants. ”
“If you think pigeon is exquisite. The rooftop would have been a better choice.” He had managed to order for me while I had gone to the ladies room. Poached pigeon with truffles and almonds wouldn’t have been my first choice. I couldn’t even look at my plate the whole night and he kept insisting I try a small piece or I wouldn’t know what I’m missing out on. I was ready to cork him again. I despised my mother for setting me up on dates. I was ready to cork her too.

“Iris? You made it, great.” I almost burned my tongue on my oolong tea when I heard him speak. I didn’t want to look up, he probably looked greasy and unkempt. My instinct told me I should just get up and leave before he had a chance to do anything.
“Iris, are you okay?” he sounded concerned. Instinctively I looked up at him. He was wearing a button-down white shirt and a long leather coat that hung down past his waist. His hair was dark and wavy, but in the light of the café I noticed the grey streaks at his temples, and the slight ripple in the bridge of his nose that signaled its having been broken, perhaps more than once. He was older than I thought: twenty-nine or somewhere in his early thirties. He sounded twenty-five., but I always liked older men. Kind of like the romance between Julia Roberts and Richard Gere in Pretty Women. Teddy reminded me of Richard Gere, in a way. His eyes were a gentle and understanding light blue. He didn’t look like a stalker to me. “No, I‘m fine. Teddy. I‘m fine, I was just thinking about something. Daydreaming really. I daydream a lot.”
“I‘m sorry our phone conversation didn‘t go as well as I planned. I saw you at work a few weeks ago and tracked down you number from Amy. I hope you don‘t mind?” His voice was calm and almost serene.
“Oh, Amy. You know Amy?” I fiddled around with the sugar on the table as I said it, too ashamed to look him in the eye after thinking he was a stalker.
“Know Amy? Not exactly.” His tone seemed to change. He hunched over, avoiding the low hung lamp above our heads and sat down across from me.
“Oh?” My voice cracked.
“Well Amy and I aren‘t exactly acquaintances anymore. She…I… Well, we had ourselves a little misunderstanding and decided we should just..” he paused, “I really like your blouse, it brings out the green in your eyes.” He wasn’t good at changing subjects, which made me want to question him.
I cleared my throat, “How did Amy end up giving my number then?” Sure, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.
“I asked her about it before we had our misunderstanding,” he shifted in his seat, folded his hands on the table, and looked me straight in the eyes, “But that‘s old news and I didn‘t come here to talk about the ancient history. How‘s your tea?”
I nodded. My tea was almost cool enough to sip without burning my tongue. This conversation, on the other hand, was lukewarm, but I couldn’t divert my gaze away from his. I was attracted to him physically, but more importantly I was attracted to what I didn’t know about him yet.
“Am I making you uncomfortable, Iris?” he was about to place one of his hands on mine, but noticed I didn’t have my hands on the table. He had been caught up in green hue of my eyes, I suppose, and hadn’t noticed I kept my hands on my lap or on my tea cup at all times. He continued, only his voice seemed softer, “The truth is, I‘ve had my eye on you for quite some time. I used Amy to get to you.” He was no longer looking at me, and the conversation suddenly sparked my interest like the last glimmer from an old light bulb.
He was getting up to leave. “Are you leaving, Teddy?” He nodded. “I need to get going, but I‘ll be in contact with you soon.” He walked out of the coffee shop and seemed to disappear in the dense city fog. Like a mirage.
¤¤¤

My mother always finds it necessary to tell everyone about the time when my father left her. Except she likes to tell people he “disappeared.” One morning in December my father came into the kitchen and said, “Helen, I‘m not coming home tonight.” I remember sitting Indian-style under the kitchen table playing with the family dog while it happened.
“Working late at work again, hon?” my mother responded, barely realizing what he was saying to her. She was too engaged in scraping the last bit of egg yolk from this mornings dishes.
My father exhaled, sauntered over to her, settled his hand on her shoulder, and whispered something in her ear. Then he “disappeared.” My mother never bothered to tell me what he told her that day. If I’d ever ask she would tell me something different every time. “Oh, honey, he just left,” or “Sweetie, there are a lot of things that I just don’t know.” I would sit and think to myself, “The one time I want her to talk to me about something, she keeps everything to herself. Isn‘t that just peachy?”

¤¤¤

The phone rang again. “It‘s Teddy. Have you got the time to take a stroll around the block?” he asked flirtatiously. I could picture his eyes pleading me to go with him. I didn’t have a choice.
I walked outside and he had been there waiting for me, which at the time, I didn’t find particularly alarming. If my mother knew she would have had me committed.
Teddy and I walked over a few blocks south of my apartment where the houses were freshly painted, but the concrete of derelict porches and sidewalks was crumbling. We managed to stay silent long enough to enjoy the world around us. Together. It was like a dream. I couldn’t have imagined a better scenario! I turned to him, squeezed his hand, kissed his cheek, and he whispered something in my ear. The sun set soon after and we had ended up back at my apartment. I turned around for one second to unlock the door and when I looked back he was gone.
¤¤¤
“I haven‘t heard from Teddy since September. How could he just disappear?”
“Alright Iris, you‘ve done a good job of opening up this session. You’ve made a lot of progress ” Dr. Rosen stopped her, placed his yellow notepad down, tilted his head to the side and began again, “ What was it that he whispered in your ear?”
“He…well,” she fidgeted in her seat, “I don‘t remember!” Then after some time she smiled to herself and began again, “I‘ve been receiving letters from this man named Stefan for several months now, doctor.”
“Oh? Have you? Well, Iris, that will just have to wait for the next time we meet.” The doctor smiled pleasantly. “Don‘t forget to take your medication, dear. Oh, and tell your mother she‘ll be billed by the end of the month.”

Something I edited out of my Misunderstandings story, but thought was kind of funny.

2006-12-02T15:41:00.000-08:00

“Mommy, where‘s Oscar, I haven‘t seen him all morning?” Oscar liked to play in the garden and mom hated it. I half expected her to tell me he’d dug himself halfway to China by now. I would’ve followed him too, because Oscar wasn’t just my dog, he was my best friend.
“Honey,” she always managed to sound chirpy, even if what she was about to tell me was going to be fatal. “Oscar had to go away for a little while.”
My mom never bothered to go with me to the pound to get Oscar back, but every once in a while I’d go into the yard at night and dig up my mom’s garden. Oscar would’ve wanted it that way, he never liked mom.

1

2006-11-15T21:14:00.000-08:00

Eh, something I started writing after I lit some candles in my room this evening. I don't really like it, but I could re-work it and make something of it one day.
----------------------------
When my mother brings out this candle, suddenly everyone in the family knows Christmas is coming. It was five years ago today that my father passed away. He suffered a triple bypass, three heart attacks, and five strokes. None of the strokes had a perminant effect on him and he was back to normal with in months of each. The day after Thanksgiving he was diagnosed with cancer (blood, brain, bone and liver). He was never one to complain about anything, so this was a shock to all of us. My mom didn't believe him at first, none of us did. He sat there calmly on our velvet red couch. Calm, collected, and even-voiced. After some time she knew. We all knew. He'd be gone soon.

---

The candle glimmered like it did the morning he died. Giving us a false hope; a hope that we all shared in and trusted.

Short Short: Her

2006-11-10T21:23:00.000-08:00

Her

I'm sitting here writing you a letter. You've been gone for some time now,
but I know you still think of me the way you used to. You think about me the way
that I think about you. I still remember the way you stared at me the day I told
you I couldn't do it anymore. That was the first time I realized how deep your
brown eyes really were.
After I'd broken your heart I wanted to piece it back together for you, but
you wouldn't let me. You told me you didn't want anything to do with me and I
nodded because it felt like the right thing to do.
The next day you left without saying a word and I missed you more than
words can express. Where did you end up going? You never did tell me where you
stayed that night or the nights after.

I guess it's better I don't know if it was with her.

2006-11-09T14:17:00.000-08:00

http://www.brutalhoney.blogspot.com

The Light Through The Lens

2006-11-09T14:06:00.000-08:00

This is another short story I've been working on. It's what I'm most comfortable writing, but the ending isn't clear to me. Let me know what you guys think.

The Light Through The Lens
By: Ewa

Cal hated this time of year. The drizzle, the chill, half the population
suffering from S.A.D., and then winter hits like a ton of bricks. The landlord
turned down the heat again, which meant that Cal had to either lay in bed all
day or turn on the electric heater, but “electricity is extra.” The landlord did
this every year just to spite him, but just for that Cal refused to move out. He
wouldn’t let the old rent-gouger get the satisfaction.
Things weren‘t going
too well. He began to think that he needed to find a new job, but in a small
town like Pebble Creek, there weren’t many jobs a guy like him could take. Last
summer he found a side job where he ended up sandblasting graffiti off the sides
of Peppersauce Cave. The money he got doing that job paid the bills, but he
ended up getting sunburn on the top of his head, where he thought he was
beginning to go bald. It was right after that that he caught himself in the
mirror looking at his head from behind with a plastic violet-framed hand mirror
that one of his ex-girlfriends left behind. He didn’t remember which one.
@@@
Cal was pacing back and forth and back and forth like a Winkie from
the Wizard of Oz in the gas station where he worked. He bit his nails as he
paced. Stale, gooey, glazed donuts sat in a box in the corner of the station.
The flies seemed to hover over them with delight. The coffee was just as bad. It
was deep, dark, and black enough for Cal to see his reflection in. He imagined
himself taking a sip of it, the thick molasses-like mixture slowly creeping down
his throat causing him to ch-ch-choke. Everything there was filthy, oil-soaked,
oil-permeated to a disturbing, over-all black translucency. He thought about
leaving. No one would know and no one would care, it was just a hole in the wall
of the town anyway.
“Rr-rring,” The door opened and in walked a young women.
She had brown hair, cut fairly short, and the bluest of eyes. Her smile was the
definition of happy — that's what he thought when he first saw her, anyway.
“…full tank of gas?” she asked.
“What?” He had missed the beginning of
her question and didn’t know how to respond. His face felt like it an electric
burner.
“How much for a full tank of gas?” she repeated as she looked down
at something on the counter.
He looked down and realized she was looking
down at some photographs that he had developed earlier in the week. He
remembered first immersing the unwound film in the developer to bring out the
images of fall leaves on the exposed film, then transferring the film to a stop
bath to prevent over-development. He remembered putting the film in a fixing
bath and finally washing the film with water to remove the fixing solution and
placing the film in a drying cabinet then bringing it to work.
“Leaves come
in all different shapes, sizes, and colors,” she started, “you‘ve got the shapes
and sizes, but you took away their color.”
“These pictures don’t even need
color to make them stand out,” he said spreading out his photographs nervously
on the counter. “They have a full range of tones from a true, deep black all the
way to a clear white…with detail throughout.”
“Hmm. You know your stuff,
Cal,” he could feel her eyes going over the embroidered letters on his grease
stained uniform. “Have you taken any classes up at Wimble College?”
“No.”
“Too good for college courses, are you?” The tone of her voice irritated
Cal. She knew she was better than him, and that pissed him off. She didn’t even
know him and already she was prejudging him.
“It‘s 23.65.”
“What?” she
questioned.
“You‘re total is 23.65 for the gas. What will you be paying
with?”
“Credit.” She stiffened. She had realized she had offended him in
some way, “You‘re avoiding my question. All I’m saying is that you’re really
good and you know your stuff pretty well. You could make a career out of this
with a couple of classes under you belt.”
“Slide you card through and press
OK.”
“I know some people there if you‘re interested. I‘m not forcing this on
you, I‘m just saying you should think about it. You‘ve really got an idea for
this sort of thing.” She smiled and slid her card through the machine, “Maybe
I‘m just too nosy for my own good, sorry.”
“…It‘s okay. Have a good day.”
She left the station, started up her car, and drove away while Cal gathered his
pictures and put them away in his bag, “Oh, what does she know anyway? Just
because she knows some people at Wimble College she thinks she can go around
telling people what they should do with their lives. Humph.”
@@@
Cal
walked home right after work. The same way he’d always taken every day since he
got his job at the gas station. He passed the cemetery on the way home. Several
weeks ago, he noticed construction along the route near the old cemetery by the
woods. He wished he had taken a couple of pictures of the cemetery before the
construction began. His feet suddenly stopped moving and he nearly toppled over.

Absolution

2006-11-09T14:01:00.000-08:00

This is the beginning of a short story I'm working on. Let me know what you all think of it!
Absolution
By Ewa
The Ginkgo trees along Harlem Avenue knew it was coming. With every passing
day they turned a different shade of yellow. Marmalade, gold, amber, saffron,
lemon. Each day they’d reveal a new color and every day they made the town seem
illuminated by some kind of holy light.
It was about seven in the morning
when all the church ladies had gathered in the first pew to listen to Father
Tom’s sermon. Father Tom was the new pastor in town. A new face. A young,
refreshing face. He was only 34, with little experience, but a lot of passion
and new ideas for the church. He had his hands full…
"Father I have sinned,
confessed, did my penance and am not free of them. I feel like I am still marked
with sin. I feel unclean."
"The host sticks on the roof of my mouth refusing
to dissolve. Take it back father. I cannot swallow it. I confessed and am not
free of sin. Help me father."
"Father I am getting married and cannot wear
other than white. Disgrace shall follow me. I am ruined without absolution. The
wafer is brick and will not pass these lips, Oh Father Please help me!"

Misunderstandings

2006-09-30T15:03:00.000-07:00

Misunderstandings
By: Ewa Prazuch
English 212
27 September 2006

“…I received a phone call in September.”
¤¤¤
“ ‘ello?” I always managed to swallow the “h” whenever I answered phone calls. While I waited for the person on the other line to a answer I looked down at my unfashionable slippers and wondered what my mother would say if she saw me walking around wearing them.
“Iris, dear,” she would say as she’d begin scrunch up her nose and squint her eyes in disapproval, “you know you can always come and live with me if they don‘t pay you enough at that job of yours?” She always had a way of letting me know how much she truly cared.
“Iris?” I heard the fixed voice on the other line whisper. I pressed the receiver closer to my ear. “Mm-hmm, this is she. How can I help you?”
“Don‘t be alarmed, but we haven‘t met before,” the voice on the other end breathed.
“Eh-excuse me?”
“We haven‘t met before,” he chuckled, “in fact, we‘ve never spoken before either.” The line suddenly crackled and I thought I heard people talking and laughing in the background.
“Then how did you get this number, it‘s unlisted?” I said raising my eyebrow. “If the next thing I hear from you is ‘I can see you through your window’ I’m calling the police, you jerk.” As a single twenty-something living in Wakeside I was wise enough to not entertain any pervert’s advances. I stood there looking back down at my slipper still listening for some sort of response. I tried not to breathe.
“My name‘s Theodore, but my friends call me Teddy,” he said placidly.
“Teddy, was it? Well, Teddy, it’s been nice talking about your strange perversions with women you‘ve never met before,” I cleared my throat to make sure he’d hear what I had to tell him next loud and clear, “but I‘m done playing this little game.”
“Let me take you out for a cup‘a Joe, Iris.” I could feel the blood rushing to my face like a thousand worker ants rushing to save their queen. This complete stranger on the other line actually had the gall to ask me out when I was making it clear I wasn’t interested.
“Meet me at the Corner Café in ten minutes if you‘re interested. I‘ll be there waiting,” the line went silent.
Who did this guy think he was calling me out of nowhere, stalking me for God knows how long, and then asking me to meet him at a café just down the block from my apartment? I know what my mother would do in a situation like this. She’d call the police and ask them to look for a guy who looked like a pervert and have them arrest him right there and then. I wasn’t my mother. I trudged over to the kitchen table and sat down. I had been standing for the entire conversation which didn’t last more than five minutes, but my feet felt like I had just worked a forty-eight hour shift at the hospital. Upon sitting down I caught a glimpse of the tattoo on my ankle that my mother didn’t know about. I’d only had it for about a year, but I’d always managed to hide it from my mother any time she’d decide to “drop in”.
“Iris,” she would say, “girls like you don‘t get tattoos. Only loose girls get tattoos.” She would emphasize loose to get her point across. In my mother’s eyes I would qualify as being a loose girl. The next time she’d see me she’d make sure I wasn’t pregnant by making me weigh myself in front of her on the bathroom scale.
I still had the phone in my hand. I didn’t bother to put it back. I was too busy going over what had just happened and planning out my next move. I felt like I was playing chess. I was never good at chess. A strange man whom I have never met or spoken to until today was waiting for me in a café a couple of blocks from my house and I was sitting at my kitchen table in my outdated slippers, my hair in knots, and my cobalt blue flannel pajamas.
My mother would have a ball telling me about how unladylike I looked at that moment if she lived with me. “Honey, I know you work long hours at the hospital, but you could at least manage to put on some normal clothes.” My mother always made a point to tell me exactly what she was thinking in every situation. “Mom, I like my old jeans from last fall,” I would always tell her as she’d gawk at the piles of laundry on my living room floor.
The bones in my legs cracked as I stood up, “Uh, I‘m getting old,” I muttered to myself. I walked across the hall to my room to see if I could find something decent to wear. “What do you wear when you go out to meet your stalker?” I whispered to myself. I don’t know why I was thinking of going to see him. I was crazy. People would think I was crazy.
I sifted through piles of clothes and came upon something I hadn‘t worn in a long time. “Happy Birthday, Iris!” My mother was always intoxicatingly happy when my birthday came around each year. “I saw this lovely blouse at Macy‘s and I just knew you‘d love it! You love it, don‘t you? Of course you love it, it‘s dazzling!” My mother would lose consciousness for a few hours if she knew I was wearing the dazzlingly overpriced indigo blouse she gave me for my birthday to meet a stalker.
¤¤¤
The Corner Café, was swarming with teenage hipsters and cozy couples. I remembered why I avoided staying more than a few minutes at places like this. They made me feel as out of place as a mink coat worn to the post office. I walked over to the barista and ordered myself some Oolong tea. I found a unoccupied table that was dimly lit. “This should be right up his alley,” I thought. He can hide his face in the shadows so I won’t know what to tell the police after he drugs me and makes me walk off with him to some warehouse. This is just great. I sipped my tea, which was still too hot to actually drink. I just needed something to do to calm my nerves. I stared at my tea and began to think.
My mother thinks she knows what‘s best for me. She would think this situation was all wrong. “Where does a pretty girl like you get silly ideas in her head about meeting strange men at café‘s? Iris, you should know better.” I know she‘s just being a mother, but sometimes I wonder if she even knows who I am and what I want. She thought Derek the attorney was perfect for me.
“So how did it go with Derek?” my mother squealed.
I sighed, “He‘s not my type mom. He went on and on about how his new Jaguar XK which is equipped with an ultra-high performance tire and wheel combination designed to provide maximum dry pavement performance with consideration for hydroplaning resistance, and a thousand other things I didn‘t bother to remember.”
“He was just nervous, dear. He wanted to impress you. Where did he take you out to?” My mother swore she wasn’t the nosy type.
“Restaurant Guy Savoy, I think.” That’s all I wanted to tell her. She didn’t need to know about he had told me four times throughout the course of the meal that the corkage fee was seventy-five dollars, so I’d better drink up and that he promised he wouldn’t take advantage of me if I got a little bit too tipsy. I was ready to cork him at that point.
“Was the food good, I‘m sure it was? He‘s such a charming man, I bet he only dines at the most exquisite restaurants. ”
“If you think pigeon is exquisite. The rooftop would have been a better choice.” He had managed to order for me while I had gone to the ladies room. Poached pigeon with truffles and almonds wouldn’t have been my first choice. I couldn’t even look at my plate the whole night and he kept insisting I try a small piece or I wouldn’t know what I’m missing out on. I was ready to cork him again. I despised my mother for setting me up on dates. I was ready to cork her too.

“Iris? You made it, great.” I almost burned my tongue on my oolong tea when I heard him speak. I didn’t want to look up, he probably looked greasy and unkempt. My instinct told me I should just get up and leave before he had a chance to do anything.
“Iris, are you okay?” he sounded concerned. Instinctively I looked up at him. He was wearing a button-down white shirt and a long leather coat that hung down past his waist. His hair was dark and wavy, but in the light of the café I noticed the grey streaks at his temples, and the slight ripple in the bridge of his nose that signaled its having been broken, perhaps more than once. He was older than I thought: twenty-nine or somewhere in his early thirties. His eyes were a gentle and understanding light blue. He didn’t look like a stalker to me. “No, I‘m fine. Teddy. I‘m fine, I was just thinking about something. Thinking helps me figure things out.”
“I‘m sorry our phone conversation didn‘t go as well as I planned. I saw you at work a few weeks ago and tracked down you number from Amy. I hope you don‘t mind?” His voice was calm and almost serene.
“Oh, Amy. You know Amy?” I fiddled around with the sugar on the table as I said it, too ashamed to look him in the eye after thinking he was a stalker.
“Know Amy? Not exactly.” His tone seemed to change. He hunched over, avoiding the low hung lamp above our heads and sat down across from me.
“Oh?” My voice cracked.
“Well Amy and I aren‘t exactly acquaintances anymore. She…I… Well, we had ourselves a little misunderstanding and decided we should just..” he paused, “I really like your blouse, it brings out the green in your eyes.” He wasn’t good at changing subjects, which made me want to question him.
I cleared my throat, “How did Amy end up giving my number then?” Who ever said that curiosity killed the cat? I never really liked cats that much to begin with. I was more of a dog person anyway.
“I asked her about it before we had our misunderstanding,” he shifted in his seat, folded his hands on the table, and looked me straight in the eyes, “But that‘s old news and I didn‘t come here to talk about the ancient history. How‘s your tea?”
I nodded. My tea was almost cool enough to sip without burning my tongue. This conversation, on the other hand, was lukewarm, but I couldn’t divert my gaze away from his. I was attracted to him physically, but more importantly I was attracted to what I didn’t know about him yet.
“Am I making you uncomfortable, Iris?” he was about to place one of his hands on mine, but noticed I didn’t have my hands on the table. He had been caught up in green hue of my eyes, I suppose, and hadn’t noticed I kept my hands on my lap or on my tea cup at all times. He continued, only his voice seemed softer, “The truth is, I‘ve had my eye on you for quite some time. I used Amy to get to you.” He was no longer looking at me, and the conversation suddenly sparked my interest like the last glimmer from an old light bulb.
He was getting up to leave. “Are you leaving, Teddy?” He nodded. “I need to get going, but I‘ll be in contact with you soon.” He walked out of the coffee shop and seemed to disappear in the dense city fog.
¤¤¤

My mother always finds it necessary to tell everyone about the time when my father left her. Except she likes to tell people he “disappeared.” One morning in December my father came into the kitchen and said, “Helen, I‘m not coming home tonight.”
“Working late at work again, hon?” my mother responded, barely realizing what he was saying to her. She was too engaged in scraping the last bit of egg yolk from this mornings dishes.
My father exhaled, sauntered over to her, settled his hand on her shoulder, and whispered something in her ear. Then he “disappeared.”

¤¤¤

The phone rang again. “It‘s Teddy. Have you got the time to take a stroll around the block?” he asked flirtatiously. I could picture his eyes pleading me to go with him. I didn’t have a choice.
I walked outside and he had been there waiting for me, which at the time, I didn’t find particularly alarming. If my mother knew she would have had me committed.
Teddy and I walked over a few blocks south of my apartment where the houses were freshly painted, but the concrete of derelict porches and sidewalks was crumbling. We managed to stay silent long enough to enjoy the world around us. Together. I turned to him, squeezed his hand, kissed his cheek, and he whispered something in my ear. The sun set soon after and we had ended up back at my apartment. I turned around for one second to unlock the door and when I looked back he was gone.
¤¤¤
“I haven‘t heard from Teddy since September. How could he just disappear?”
“Iris, your fifty minutes are up. ” Dr. Rosen stopped her, placed his yellow notepad down, and walked her to the door.

2006-09-22T15:54:00.000-07:00

http://blueskydawning.bravehost.com/poetry.htm

Short Story # 1: Not Finished

2006-09-22T15:45:00.001-07:00

“I received a phone call in September.”
“ ‘ello?” I always managed to swallow the “h” whenever I answered phone calls. While I waited for the person on the other line to a answer I looked down at my unfashionable slippers and wondered what my mother would say if she saw me walking around wearing them.
“Iris, dear,” she would say as she’d begin scrunch up her nose and squint her eyes in disapproval, “you know you can always come and live with me if they don‘t pay you enough at that job of yours?” She always had a way of letting me know how much she truly cared.
“Iris?” I heard the fixed voice on the other line whisper. I pressed the receiver closer to my ear. “Mm-hmm, this is she. How can I help you?”
“Don‘t be alarmed, but we haven‘t met before,” the voice on the other end breathed.
“Eh-excuse me?”
“We haven‘t met before,” he chuckled, “in fact, we‘ve never spoken before either.” The line suddenly crackled and I thought I heard people talking and laughing in the background.
“But you know me?” I said raising my eyebrow. “If the next thing I hear from you is ‘I can see you through your window’ I’m calling the police, you jerk.” As a single twenty-something living in Wakeside I was wise enough to not entertain any pervert’s advances. I was ready to hang up the receiver at that point, when suddenly I heard him say, “”

Books I have read or want to read.

2006-09-22T15:40:00.000-07:00

? A Passage to India by E.M. Forster Find out more
? Frankenstein by Mary Shelley Find out more
? Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton Find out more
? Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse Find out more
? Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov Find out more
? The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco Find out more
? David Copperfield by Charles Dickens Find out more
? The Lottery: And Other Stories by Shirley Jackson Find out more
? Little Women by Louisa May Alcott Find out more
? One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey Find out more
? Song of the Simple Truth: The Complete Poems of Julia De Burgos by Julia De Burgos Find out more
? The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne Find out more
? Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray Find out more
? Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury Find out more
? The Picture Of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde Find out more
? Night by Elie Wiesel Find out more
? The Code of the Woosters by P. G. Wodehouse Find out more
? Hamlet by William Shakespeare Find out more
? Complete Tales & Poems by Edgar Allan Poe Find out more
? Beloved by Toni Morrison Find out more
? A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith Find out more
? A Separate Peace by John Knowles Find out more
? Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw Find out more
? Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes Find out more
? The Story of My Life by Helen Keller Find out more
? The Awakening by Kate Chopin Find out more
? Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank Find out more
? Time and Again by Jack Finney Find out more
? Brave New World by Aldous Huxley Find out more
? The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas Find out more
? Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe Find out more
? Sybil by Flora Schreiber Find out more
? Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson Find out more
? Cousin Bette by Honore De Balzac Find out more
? Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad Find out more
? Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut Find out more
? The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov Find out more
? The Jungle by Upton Sinclair Find out more
? Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck Find out more
? Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen Find out more
? The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo Find out more
? 1984 by George Orwell Find out more
? The Portable Dorothy Parker by Dorothy Parker Find out more
? The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway Find out more
? An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser Find out more
? Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller Find out more
? Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky Find out more
? Lord of the Flies by William Golding Find out more
? The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger Find out more
? The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald Find out more
? Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte Find out more
? The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath Find out more
? The Sound and The Fury by William Faulkner Find out more
? The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka Find out more
? The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain Find out more
? Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy Find out more
? Emma by Jane Austen Find out more
? On The Road by Jack Kerouac Find out more
? The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand Find out more

Books I added to this list:

Angels & Demons by Dan Brown

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown

The Rule of Four by Ian Caldwell & Dustin Thomason

Franny and Zoey by J.D. Salinger

The Garden of Eden by Ernest Hemingway

Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

My Antonia by Willa Cather

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom

The Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell

Pattern Recognition by William Gibson

The Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

Beowulf by Seamus Heaney

Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Mallory

Canterbury Tales by Geofrey Chaucer

The Razor's Edge by W. Somerset Maugham

After WWI, Larry Darrell decides to leave his comfortable life in Chicago to travel the world in search of meaning. Find out more

? Small Island by Andrea Levy Find out more
? My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult Find out more
? A Quiet Storm by Rachel Howzell Hall Find out more
? My Life in Orange by Tim Guest Find out more
? Truth & Beauty by Ann Patchett Find out more
? The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon Find out more
? The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby Find out more
? How to Breathe Underwater by Julie Orringer Find out more
? The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters by Elisabeth Robinson Find out more
? Nervous System by Jan Lars Jensen Find out more
? The Meaning of Consuelo by Judith Ortiz Cofer Find out more
? The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini Find out more
? How the Light Gets In by M. J. Hyland Find out more
? Oracle Night by Paul Auster Find out more
? Quattrocento by James McKean Find out more
? The Opposite of Fate by Amy Tan Find out more
? Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris Find out more
? Sacred Time by Ursula Hegi Find out more
? Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach Find out more
? The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom Find out more
? The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem Find out more
? Old School by Tobias Wolff Find out more
? The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri Find out more
? The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon Find out more
? The Bielski Brothers by Peter Duff Find out more
? Brick Lane by Monica Ali Find out more
? Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nafisi Find out more
? The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger Find out more
? Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood Find out more
? The Song of Names by Norman Lebrecht Find out more
? Property by Valerie Martin Find out more
? Rescuing Patty Hearst by Virginia Holman Find out more
? The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson Find out more
? Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie Find out more
? The Kitchen Boy by Robert Alexander Find out more
? Just a Couple of Days by Tony Vigorito Find out more
? Bee Season by Myla Goldberg Find out more
? Fat Land : How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World by Greg Critser Find out more
? Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire Find out more
? Unless by Carol Shields Find out more
? Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy Find out more
? When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka Find out more
? Songbook by Nick Hornby Find out more
? Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides Find out more
? Extravagance by Gary Krist Find out more
? Empire Falls by Richard Russo Find out more
? The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker Find out more
? Bel Canto by Ann Patchett Find out more
? A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole Find out more
? The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon Find out more
? Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris Find out more
? Life of Pi by Yann Martel Find out more
? The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy Find out more
? The Red Tent by Anita Diamant Find out more
? The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd Find out more
? The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold Find out more
? Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn Find out more
? Seabiscuit: An American Legend by Laura Hillenbrand Find out more
? The Nanny Diaries by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus Find out more

[Everything in RED I have read/am reading.]

[**This is not a complete list**]

2006-09-22T15:28:00.000-07:00

Exercise #3: Third Person

The train was packed, but she was lucky enough to have found a seat next to a man with a mullet. It wasn’t her first choice, but it was the closest seat she could find. She sat down next to him in the train. She crossed her legs and put her backpack in her lap. She didn’t quite know what to look at once the train started moving. She sat there twiddling her thumbs, but stopped once she remembered what her friend said about people who twiddle their thumbs. “Only crazy people twiddle their thumbs,” her friend had told her once, and she didn’t want to come off looking like a crazy person to anyone.
The man with the mullet sitting next to her was busy doing something on his cell phone, but she kept her eyes to the ground so that she wouldn’t be tempted to look over and see what he was doing on his cellular phone. As she sat staring at her shoes she noticed that the blisters on the bottom of her feet were starting to hurt, but the more she thought about it the more she focused on the pain so she quickly made her mind think of something else. She was about to shift in her seat when the man with the mullet got up and made his way to the other side of the train. This confused her, but she didn’t have too much time to analyze the situation because she had reached the end of trip. She was finally able focus her eyes on the things around her again.