Monthly Archives: November 2011


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.

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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.

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Filed under Creativity


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.

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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.

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Filed under Creativity