Monday, August 6, 2007

My head feels like a rotten melon

I mean I have a headache, toothache, some kind of ear issue that makes me reel like a drunk if I tilt my head the wrong way, and my eyes are sore. So my head feels on the inside what I imagine the fermenting, hot, nasty mess on the inside of a rotting watermelon would feel like. I do not mean that the exterior of my head feels squishy to others. Yet.

Wyatt and I won't be buying any houses and I'll continue to garden in the planter on the balcony. I haven't had any nibbles on the end of my employment line, which I have baited with many resumes and online applications. So if I don't get any action soon I plan to go to massage school this fall.

I've been trying to settle in to our place and make it mine as well as Wyatt's. It's not easy moving into somebody else's space. You tend to feel like it's always going to be the other person's. I have also found that you tend to feel like any space that used to be yours is still at least a little yours. The other day Shalluck and I saw painters going in to my old condo unit, which I recently sold. Shalluck must have seen me scowl, because he said, "So is it kind of like seeing your old boyfriend out with another girl?" Indeed I found that a very accurate analogy.

Today I was setting up my desk in the office/guest bedroom and I found some notecards with writing prompts I made up when I was a teacher. The notecards have the first line of an advice column letter written on them, and students were to finish the letter the way they thought the writer would have. Truly motivated students also wrote a response to the request for advice.

OK - Here are some of the prompts - feel free to finish any of these letters and post them in the comments section.

Dear Marlene,
My mom won't let me put nail polish on my eyelids.

Dear Marlene,
I was trapped under five tons of jellybeans six months ago. I've been trying to eat my way out, but I'm sick of jellybeans and I still have two tons to go before I see daylight.

Dear Marlene,
Every day when I go to school, a dragon burns up my homework before I can turn it in.

Dear Marlene,
I can't stop eating crayons.

Dear Marlene,
Bat wings are growing out of the sides of my head, and I'm too embarrased to go to the doctor.

Dear Marlene,
My grandmother gave me a jacket made of thumbtacks for my birthday. It will hurt her feelings if I don't wear it, but it makes me bleed and it's uncomfortable.

Dear Marlene,
Please advice me on the ethics involved here - my father wants a shrunken human head for Father's day.

Dear Marlene,
My mother will only buy me shoes made of taffy.
The above scene is along a trail near the New River.


T said...

Hey Marlene,
I can't stop eating crayons. The waxy deliciousness in my teeth is at once mesmerizing and frightening. Why do I love it so? The wonderfully gritty feel of so many colors crowding my packed mouth is liberating and confining. I must spit them out in order to begin again. One by one biting through the crisp little paper masticating the non-toxic sticks... Tooth brushing is a challenge after this. Do you think I will become a candle?

verona said...

Brilliant! Literary genius!