Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Her Feelings For Him

I found this great story called "Her Feelings For Him" By:Ellen Behrens
and I just had to share. It's a really obscure story about this girl
who just cannot seem to rid of her feelings for this man in her life.
It's almost as if the feelings are objects or something.


SHE WONDERED how long he would be gone—longer this time than last? His eyes, sometimes gray and sometimes green, swept her clean on leaving as though he needed to erase her face before he could go.
"I have so much feeling for you," she told him, "I don't know where to put it all."
Her feelings overflowed her, spilling out of her eyes and nose and mouth and fingertips and sometimes oozed from between her toes unless she wore shoes to hold them in. She stuffed her car trunk with her feelings for him, her glove box, too. All of the pockets of all her clothes were crammed with them. Her feelings filled up her house where they clashed with her furniture and delighted in hiding her remote control from her. They took over her office at work where they got in her way and nearly got her fired because of the distraction of them running around screaming all the time. They sat close to her, sometimes on her lap, bumping her elbows while she typed or knocking stuffed Workers' Comp files from her hands, scattering papers everywhere.
"I'm running out of places to put my feelings for you," she told him over the phone. She talked to him on her cordless phone while she swept up more of her feelings for him from the carpet and deposited them behind her antique china cabinet—the drawers and cupboards in it already full, of course, her heirloom place settings with 24-carat trim removed from it months ago, given over to a hated second cousin who'd always wanted them. "Things are really getting out of control here," she told him, but he was flattered and just couldn't see the mess it was making.
She tried giving her feelings for him away to people she knew but nobody wanted them. "They're your feelings," they said. "You should keep them."
So she placed a classified ad. "Sell anything with us!" the paper said, and she thought it was worth a try.
"Free to good homes: Feelings for a good but absent man. Enough for everyone. Call today," her ad said, but only one lady called, asking why anyone would want feelings for a man who was absent.
"No wonder you want to give them away for nothing," the lady said, and she had to think about that.
"They're taking up all this space," she said to the caller, but there was no making anyone understand.
She hired a crop duster and loaded it with her feelings and flew with the red-bearded pilot who let those feelings loose over cities and towns across a 200-mile radius.
"Wish someone had so many feelings for me they could spare a few," he said. "Must be nice to be cared about that much. Sure must be nice," he said, dropping another four hundred pounds of her feelings through the air.
When her man came back the next time, he could barely walk into her house.
"This place is a mess," he said. "What is all this crap everywhere?"
They crawled around him, nuzzling next to him, all colors and shapes and sizes. Some wanted to suffocate him, they were so happy to be close to him. He beat his hands against them, trying to ward them off.
"My feelings for you have taken over," she said. "I can't get rid of them, though I've tried."
He looked around the room, still batting his hands at the feelings flying at him from his blind side. He tried to count them all but there were too many and a few of them switched places on him so he couldn't be sure, anyway.
"This is just too much," he said. "You have to do something. You can't live like this."
"You're right," she said, but she didn't know what else to do.
In the next few days, though, maybe because he was nearby, her feelings for him let up a little, then a little more. She could walk barefoot in the house again, knowing she wouldn't leak feelings for him with every step. They faded from fluorescents to primaries to pastels and stopped chasing each other all over the furniture. They took more naps and nestled against her while she watched television. But they were still everywhere, and she dreaded him going away again because she knew it would only get worse with his absence.
"Take them with you," she begged him, hiding some of those feelings in his luggage, tucking them into the pockets along the sides he never used. "Please," she said. "It'll make me crazy to be left here alone with them."
So he packed an extra bag for her feelings and with every journey away from her after that he took more and more. He chartered busses and private planes and gradually her feelings for him cleared up. She didn't know where he took them when he went or what he did with them, and she didn't want to know. Didn't want to know the truth if the truth was bad.



What did you guys think about it? I don't know if I like it or not.. but it sure is a great concept, I definitly want to hear your feedback.

posted by Unknown @ 4:13 PM 1 comments

The Fine Line

You always hear about the 'fine line between love and hate'. I was in my Indi.Lit class today and my teacher was talking about how she felt about this. This may not mean anything to anyone else but it kind of stuck to me.
She basically said the ones who you love are truely the only ones you can put out your full amount of anger upon becuase in the back of your mind, you really do think that they will (somehow) forgive you. She drew this up on the board...


This kind of represents a relationship to me. lets say on the far left, the circle represents Anger/Hatred. And the far right circle is meant to be Love. At the first few stages in a relationship, you are on the outsides, not a lot of hate/anger/love but as you grow closer you are pushed closer and closer to the center, until you hit that middle line and there's just so much love and so much hate for this other person,you know you can fight and bicker with them and they will probably forgive you later, but it seems like a constant battle. I don't know I thought that was really interesting.. I hope that it makes sense to some degree. I just thought it was such a weird way to show it.

posted by Unknown @ 3:47 PM 0 comments

A Person/ A Paper /A Promise

"Standing on the fringes of life... offers a unique prespective. But there comes a time to see what it looks like from the dance floor." This quote is from a book that draws you into the unique, yet very farmiliar life of 'Charlie'. The book, 'perks of being a wallflower', is definitly one of the most comemorative books you'll read.



There's a poem in the novel about someone's suicide note. I'm not quite sure why I'm putting this on here.. but I do think its just an amazing piece of literature, though a bit morbid. The poem is called "A Person/ A Paper/ A Promise" By: Dr. Earl Reum

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
becuase that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
becuase that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
becuase of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.
Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three a.m. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly
That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.

posted by Unknown @ 2:58 PM 0 comments