By Sara Teasdale
STEPHON kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Stephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Three Things: A creative writing exercise
Made up meetings: Incorporating; Meeting, Ladies Room, Shoes & Cosmetics
How we met: Part 1.
The first thing I said to her when I met her was, “Who the hell taught you how to paint on your eyebrows?”
We were in the bathroom of some rock club. She was dressed to kill and I had had a few too many so I was feeling brave and brash.
I could not help but notice her incredible shoes when she walked through the door and as I followed her outfit from the feet up I was equally impressed, but I stopped dead when I got to her eyebrows.
She had clearly made the mistake that so many women make. She had over plucked and then turned them down with make up a little too soon. This gave her an extra wide and really unusual gap that made her look like she may be a little handicapped or something. They were uneven and angry black arches that seemed so very out of place. It was truly sad because they were framing such a lovely set of eyes.
“Excuse me?” she asked in a put off tone
“Yeah, I know, I can be a little too honest sometimes, sorry, but I promise you will come to appreciate this about me, or you will just decide to hate me right now and we will never speak again.” I answered playfully.
She took a long look at herself in the mirror, I saw a flash of insecurity cross her face and then it switched right back to righteous indignation. “Who are you anyway? Do you have a problem with me?”
“No,” I answered,” I actually think you look fabulous; it’s those eyebrows that I have a problem with! You know, I could fix them for you really quickly if you would like. I happened to have some make up in my purse right now!”
“I don’t know,” she said, “What if you mess them up?”
“Trust me, there is no way I can make them look any worst!” I answered and grabbed her hand and pulled her over to me near the mirror.
I removed what I could of her make up with some tissues I had in my purse and pulled out my brow kit that I always carry with me in my overstuffed bag of goodies. A few minutes, some powder and pencils later she was transformed from mildly retarded to drop dead gorgeous!
“Viola!” I said as I spun her around to look at herself in the mirror, “What do you think?”
“Oh my God, I love it!” she squealed, “How did you do that? You have to show me!”
“I just might be convinced to show you later if you buy me a drink right now.” I said
“But of course!” She smiled and we walked out of the bathroom arm in arm.
How we met: Part 2.
She was sitting at the only empty table left, the one that was closest to the door so every time someone walked in or out an ice cold breeze would make her pull her wrap tighter.
“Well, I know why this table was empty.” She thought to herself.
Her feet were sore from the three inch heels she had been wearing all night. She had decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea to break in a new pair of shoes on a night like this where she would be on her feet the whole time. Too bad she decided that after being at the party for about twenty minutes.
She had an urge to take her shoes off, but she was afraid her feet would be so swollen she would not be able to get them back on. Freezing seemed to be the lesser of two evils, so there she sat.
Every now and then a friend of her husband’s would stop by and say hello. Compliment her on her outfit, or tell her about what an inspiration they thought he was. (This particular night was a party to honor him and his achievements.) She, as always, was gracious and sweet and just as coy as she was supposed to be.
She scanned the room for a familiar face from her camp. One of the few people she knew on her own merits. No such luck on this night.
She pulled out her digital camera and looked for something to take a photo of. She landed on her sore feet wearing the fabulous shoes.
She started snapping photos, posing her feet at different angles trying to get the one that showed off her great shoes and made her ankles look the thinnest.
She was making up captions for the photos in her head. Things like, “This is how much pain $250 will buy you.” when she was interrupted by a voice.
“Well, you look like you’re having a good time!” a male voice said from the other side of her table.
“Oh, um, yeah..” she stammered as she looked up to see who belonged to the voice, “I was, um, I didn’t know what to take pictures of and um… these shoes hurt really bad... Hey! I know you!”
“You do?” the man look surprised. You could tell he was quickly flipping through his mental rolodex trying to place her face.
“Yes, I do.” She smiled feeling a little more relaxed now that she had taken back control of the conversation, “We actually work together!” she laughed
“We do!” he exclaimed peering at her a little bit closer, “Oh, you are right, I guess we do.” He said unconvincingly.
“Yeah, I work on the fourth floor in accounting and you work on the first floor in management. It’s all right, I’ve only been there four years. I hear that you don’t even get to meet management until you have been there for five!” She joked, immediately feeling stupid for making such a dumb joke.
Much to her relief he smiled in response looking genuinely amused, “Of course!” he responded this time sounding more convincing, “I’m sorry, I totally know you! You just look so, um, well… dressed up!” he said sounding relieved he found the right non-insulting word.
“Yeah,” she said with a smirk and stood up to reach across the table and shake his hand, “That is called hair and make-up! It was nice finally meeting you.” She shook his hand, “Have a lovely rest of your evening.”
“You too.” He shook back and smiled, “It was nice to finally meet you.”
With that she walked off towards the ladies room trying her hardest not to limp.
How we met: Part 1.
The first thing I said to her when I met her was, “Who the hell taught you how to paint on your eyebrows?”
We were in the bathroom of some rock club. She was dressed to kill and I had had a few too many so I was feeling brave and brash.
I could not help but notice her incredible shoes when she walked through the door and as I followed her outfit from the feet up I was equally impressed, but I stopped dead when I got to her eyebrows.
She had clearly made the mistake that so many women make. She had over plucked and then turned them down with make up a little too soon. This gave her an extra wide and really unusual gap that made her look like she may be a little handicapped or something. They were uneven and angry black arches that seemed so very out of place. It was truly sad because they were framing such a lovely set of eyes.
“Excuse me?” she asked in a put off tone
“Yeah, I know, I can be a little too honest sometimes, sorry, but I promise you will come to appreciate this about me, or you will just decide to hate me right now and we will never speak again.” I answered playfully.
She took a long look at herself in the mirror, I saw a flash of insecurity cross her face and then it switched right back to righteous indignation. “Who are you anyway? Do you have a problem with me?”
“No,” I answered,” I actually think you look fabulous; it’s those eyebrows that I have a problem with! You know, I could fix them for you really quickly if you would like. I happened to have some make up in my purse right now!”
“I don’t know,” she said, “What if you mess them up?”
“Trust me, there is no way I can make them look any worst!” I answered and grabbed her hand and pulled her over to me near the mirror.
I removed what I could of her make up with some tissues I had in my purse and pulled out my brow kit that I always carry with me in my overstuffed bag of goodies. A few minutes, some powder and pencils later she was transformed from mildly retarded to drop dead gorgeous!
“Viola!” I said as I spun her around to look at herself in the mirror, “What do you think?”
“Oh my God, I love it!” she squealed, “How did you do that? You have to show me!”
“I just might be convinced to show you later if you buy me a drink right now.” I said
“But of course!” She smiled and we walked out of the bathroom arm in arm.
How we met: Part 2.
She was sitting at the only empty table left, the one that was closest to the door so every time someone walked in or out an ice cold breeze would make her pull her wrap tighter.
“Well, I know why this table was empty.” She thought to herself.
Her feet were sore from the three inch heels she had been wearing all night. She had decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea to break in a new pair of shoes on a night like this where she would be on her feet the whole time. Too bad she decided that after being at the party for about twenty minutes.
She had an urge to take her shoes off, but she was afraid her feet would be so swollen she would not be able to get them back on. Freezing seemed to be the lesser of two evils, so there she sat.
Every now and then a friend of her husband’s would stop by and say hello. Compliment her on her outfit, or tell her about what an inspiration they thought he was. (This particular night was a party to honor him and his achievements.) She, as always, was gracious and sweet and just as coy as she was supposed to be.
She scanned the room for a familiar face from her camp. One of the few people she knew on her own merits. No such luck on this night.
She pulled out her digital camera and looked for something to take a photo of. She landed on her sore feet wearing the fabulous shoes.
She started snapping photos, posing her feet at different angles trying to get the one that showed off her great shoes and made her ankles look the thinnest.
She was making up captions for the photos in her head. Things like, “This is how much pain $250 will buy you.” when she was interrupted by a voice.
“Well, you look like you’re having a good time!” a male voice said from the other side of her table.
“Oh, um, yeah..” she stammered as she looked up to see who belonged to the voice, “I was, um, I didn’t know what to take pictures of and um… these shoes hurt really bad... Hey! I know you!”
“You do?” the man look surprised. You could tell he was quickly flipping through his mental rolodex trying to place her face.
“Yes, I do.” She smiled feeling a little more relaxed now that she had taken back control of the conversation, “We actually work together!” she laughed
“We do!” he exclaimed peering at her a little bit closer, “Oh, you are right, I guess we do.” He said unconvincingly.
“Yeah, I work on the fourth floor in accounting and you work on the first floor in management. It’s all right, I’ve only been there four years. I hear that you don’t even get to meet management until you have been there for five!” She joked, immediately feeling stupid for making such a dumb joke.
Much to her relief he smiled in response looking genuinely amused, “Of course!” he responded this time sounding more convincing, “I’m sorry, I totally know you! You just look so, um, well… dressed up!” he said sounding relieved he found the right non-insulting word.
“Yeah,” she said with a smirk and stood up to reach across the table and shake his hand, “That is called hair and make-up! It was nice finally meeting you.” She shook his hand, “Have a lovely rest of your evening.”
“You too.” He shook back and smiled, “It was nice to finally meet you.”
With that she walked off towards the ladies room trying her hardest not to limp.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
1993 - Again
Because I love you, I need to let you go.
There is so much you can't understand today
I hope tomorrow brings you clarity, friend.
You must be blind for now
to appreciate what is left when his storm passes.
-You still have so much to learn.-
When your chance to start over comes,
hopefully, this time, there will be more than lessons left for you to carry forward.
I hope you can stop the cycle
before you lose everything
trying to hold on to something
you never needed
again.
There is so much you can't understand today
I hope tomorrow brings you clarity, friend.
You must be blind for now
to appreciate what is left when his storm passes.
-You still have so much to learn.-
When your chance to start over comes,
hopefully, this time, there will be more than lessons left for you to carry forward.
I hope you can stop the cycle
before you lose everything
trying to hold on to something
you never needed
again.
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