Can’t We All Just Get Along?

We’ve been at this humanity thing for thousands of years now and still haven’t figured it out. What ever happened to all those theories on evolution? Guess they don’t apply to the ‘getting along with others’ gene. All this time and still so much killing, fighting, and arguing. All these advancements in technology and education, yet none in human nature.

Our news is full of images of the war machine gobbling up more and more victims, one man’s greed causing the starvation of countless fellow men, riots and lives torn apart.

Then again, with 7 billion of us roaming around and weapons of mass destruction ready to finish us all off, it’s a wonder we’re all still here to not get along with each other.

Image source

9 Comments

Filed under Creativity

Detour

He has a plan. Of course. There’s always a plan. Never leave home without one. Never. His whole life, planned. How else can you be successful in life? You have to have goals. Without them, you end up nowhere. Fast. Not him. Not a chance.

Then there’s his sister, the ‘free spirit’. Free?? Really? She calls living  hand to mouth in a smelly apartment in Nothingsville, USA free? Please, who is she trying to kid. She blows in the wind, letting life carry her wherever it chooses. No control over her own destiny.

Control.

That’s really what it’s all about for him, isn’t it. His plans, his goals make him feel like he is the master of his own fate, the ruler of his own destiny.

Control. Hmmmm…. Landing on planet earth at this precise time, place, and circumstance a matter of his own control and choosing… Being able to think, feel, live, breathe- all acts of his own control…

And then there’s the matter of demise. Unpreventable.

Out
of
his
control
.

Image source

Leave a comment

Filed under Creativity

Waiting

She put the cup to her lips expecting a wave of warm foamed milk infused with the satisfying bitter of dark Ecuadorian coffee. Nothing more than flat milk with cold coffee. How long had she been sitting there?

She took the i-phone out of her bag. Text message: R u coming? Send. Quick time check. Thirty-six minutes of waiting.

Maybe… what if… just once more…

She knew he’d never come.

I-phone notification: her message hadn’t gone through. The dull ache set in. The same ache she had felt every Friday since–

It was their weekly ritual to meet after work at the coffee shop to start their weekend together. The baristas admired them as ‘that lovely couple’. It was the same every Friday until–

She knew she couldn’t bend the laws of time and tragedy to undo what had happened. Still, she had to keep coming. Every Friday. To not do so would be to betray him and the start of their weekend together.

Image Source

4 Comments

Filed under Creativity

The Inner Fire

Does everyone have it, or is it only a certain type of person? Is it part of being human, or just for those predisposed to it? That fire that blazes in the inmost being- does everyone experience it? Do some just squelch it to make life easier for themselves? It can be rather inconvenient at times, igniting severe discomfort. To fan it into full flame can be dangerous. It can blaze out of control. To ignore it can be ever so practical, allowing a smooth chameleon-like existence– be who you need to be to get what you want in any given circumstance. Know the rules, play the game, get what you want. What you will get is a life of ease and accomplishment.

For those who are all too keenly aware of that drive for something beyond comfort and niceties, life is not so easy. They will not yield, or bend, or conform. They check with their internal compass and blurt out any discrepancies between it and the outer world. Completely inadvisable. They point out the hollowness of changing winds, yes-men, and darkness masquerading as light. They upset the veneer of smoothness. And what do they get in exchange? Shunning and ridicule, marginalization and scoffing. The world turns its back on them. If only they could harness that which burns within them to fight for what truly matters in a way that the world would understand. Then they could reignite what the hollow have lost and teach them how to truly live.

Image Source

8 Comments

Filed under Creativity

Forgotten

There lay the blog. Forgotten in cyberspace. Neglected by his only parent in this world. He drifts aimlessly, unloved, unheeded, lonely, abandoned.

Then out of nowhere, she appears again, to take him up once more, just like that, as if she’d never left. She expects him to let her in again, to give her the space to record her thoughts and let others peer in on her world- a vessel for her to ‘express herself’. How self-indulgent. What about his needs, his wants, his whims and wishes? She doesn’t care. Doesn’t even ask how he’s been this whole time, if he’s picked up more followers, if his stats are up. Doesn’t even bother to look.

And so, she takes her place again in front of the keyboard, letting her moods spill into the evening air. Silently, she thanks him for taking her back.

 Image Source

_______________________________________

Today’s 4 Minute Writer  

East Meets West

“I simply must have these.” She had the same thought every time she walked into that store. Most who walked into the East Side Thrift Store did so out of necessity, some out of shame. They would rather have shopped at the high-end boutiques on the other side of town. But that side of town wasn’t their side of town.

She, however, shopped there by choice. A little tongue-in-cheek perhaps. Every Thursday, she arrived a few minutes after store opening. New stock was put out after closing on Wednesdays. Up and down the isles, hanger after hanger, she browsed, snagging whatever caught her fancy.

An hour or so later, she would go to the til and pay a very few dollars for a whole lot of clothing. Over the next couple of days, she would modify each piece- adding more glitz and glitter, more beads, more colours- then carefully display each in her West End Boutique for several hundred dollars to those people who would never dream to cross to that other side of town.

Image Source

8 Comments

Filed under Creativity

Impractical

Are there some who walk among us who were meant for other worlds? Ones who just can’t understand why they have to follow the rules, make polite conversation, sit calmly by while injustices are committed- those who insist on not seeing the cup as half empty or half full, but instead question the need for a cup at all.

These beings have landed here by mistake. They have no place in the regular flow of hustle and bustle, of make a buck and be practical. They dream and question, explore and debate, generating not even so much as an ounce of practicality.

We pity them. They don’t have what it takes to get the girl, the right job, an esteemed position in society. Pour souls, lost amidst the skyscrapers and speedways.

Yet, what if it’s not they who are lost, but we? What if they have been given to us as gifts, glimpses of worlds we’ve forgotten, places in our own hearts long neglected. If only we would make room for them, give them a soapbox to stand on, and gather round, letting our logic and pragmatism melt into the pavement as our feet float gently off it.

 Image Source

_______________________________________

Today’s 4 Minute Writer  

Welcome

Predictable: November 1 the Christmas decorations come out. Feburary 15 Easter bunnies hit the shelves. March 1 green dye stands at attention with St. Paddy’s Day just around the corner. July 31 school supplies flood the aisles. September 1 ghosts and goblins come out of hiding, back again for the season.

Winter, spring, summer, fall. Again, and again, and again.

It’s Sebastian’s turn to start experiencing these cycles. Today, you see, is his birthday- his real birthday, not the annual commemoration of the event.

Welcome to the world, little boy.

Here’s my advice to you: as you travel down life’s road and get into the rhythm of the cycles, do your best to shake them up a little. Give the circle a few edges, cut it loose, turn it into a trapezoid. You’ll shape more fun into your life and introduce those around you to possibilities they’d never considered.

Image source

Use the comment field to suggest a topic or to comment.

12 Comments

Filed under Creativity, Writing

The Classics

We’ve been watching the classics lately- I mean, the real classics, Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, The Razor’s Edge. The more we watch, the more I feel the immensity of the gulf between the classics and modern-day films.

It starts with the length of time the camera stays on a single shot. A whole scene can be played out without the camera cutting to a different angle even once. The characters, dialogue, dramatic tension keep you riveted to the screen. These days, the constant readjustments your eyes have to make to the spastically changing camera angles are enough to throw anyone into an epileptic seizure- even if you don’t have epilepsy. But that’s what holds our attention, the movement, the explosions, the adrenalin. Without these elements, there would be no distractions to protect us from the lack of substance in what we’re watching.

Don’t get me wrong, I like my fluff. The latest superhero flicks are a great way to forget the world and take a ride into adventure. It’s just that there is a serious lack of movies with meaning, ones you can discuss for hours, ones that cause you to reflect on your own life, your own character, and perhaps even make a real life change.

When I look back at my time here on earth, I want to see moments where I did something meaningful, something that really mattered. I wished that more movie makers would want the same.

 Image Source

_______________________________________

Today’s 4 Minute Writer  

Spotless

A concealed black spot taints her otherwise charming personality. It’s the scar left from a few short years spent outside of the regular flow of society. How could something like that not leave its mark?

She does well, though, smiling, engaging in conversation, moving forward in her life. As long as no one probes too deeply, her new life remains intact. It’s the eye contact that lasts too long, or the question that reaches too far into the past that cause her to check the time, make an excuse, and find the nearest exit. Nausea, the heightened sensitivity to light and noise, and the crash of her heartbeat follow.

This is what fugitives must feel like, she thinks. And she knows that she indeed is one- a fugitive from her own mind.

Image source

Use the comment field to suggest a topic or to comment.

8 Comments

Filed under Creativity, Writing