collision course

Im doing alot of that nearing the edge kind of over-thinking these few days; and I think that when we put love and hate on a collision course, then we only have ourselves to blame. Im rambling again. Its just that there are certain of these life lessons that tend to go over my head and then I find them repeating themselves all too patiently while I sit back and scratch my head in confusion. This time the confusion levels are in a near danger zone.

I dont get it. I dont. And its no longer a person delivering a message or gifting this life shock to me. Its something more; there's this nagging feeling at the back of my mind saying there's more more more to this. So, the suspense is killing me. What is it?

More. Less, but more.
I think the space between lessons is lessening. Still, the same lessons. But like contractions before birthing, and what we hear to be the labour process, the timing between mini earthquakes is getting shorter... the end is near. I think I must get it at some point. Like really just have that lightbulb, eureka moment! Aha! I get it! Like that.. Unless the games being upped and the challenge along with it. And Im losing braincells through my nose in the process, making me worse for wear :/

There's alot going on inside; and definite lines in the sand regards how much I am willing to put up with. Those lines are forming barriers that barricade me from the row of daggers aimed in my direction. Not so sure that's a bad thing or a good thing. It just is.

This rumble of stuff from the inside needs a voice. That's the only thing I know.
And all hell will break loose when that happens.
I figure its winter anyway, so at least we'll be warm, right?
Anyone want to cuddle? Okay, make that a group hug :P

I've set myself on a collision course. I hope all bones remain intact when I'm done with my chosen encounter. I hope that indeed, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. And I hope that I can finally demarcate that area between pussy-footing niceties and just being true to myself. Being real. It's the freedom that I'm craving for the moment. Probably for a longer time than only now. And it scares the hell out of me!

like wildfire or flowing rivers.. who knows?

Kay is overwhelmed. She undid the sluice gates and now she's let the dam wall overflow. And it's been so much fun that the posts have gained momentum like a river and seem to be really making the rounds between the blogs. It all started at Kays place, a post called 'Ten things I'd like my unborn child(ren) to know'.

And a simple tag of a few names led to more of that. It's amazing what a list of things you might say to offspring can bring out the best and the worst in a person :P
Okay mostly the best.
As this little flow of words most certainly did.

Check out the stream:
In no particular order...

Antonio: The Spawn Shall Know These 10 Things

Aasia: ...Spawn of my Loins

Nooj: Lists

Waseem: No Beyonce Listeners Tolerated

Seher/AD: Baby You Hear Me?

Azra: On that Bandwagon.

MJ: Concerning Kids

Saaleha: some sage and thyme for the sprogs

KiLLa: Naseehat (Advice) to my Gunner..

Nafisa: Tag, ur it!

Sofi: The 10 Thing Tag

Freelance Hero: What shall I tell my kids

Nielfa: Listen to me and Listen well..

Organharvester: The ten lessons I would teach to my kids..

Veritas: 20 things I want my kids to know

Edge of Where: simple 10

Mangoes & Mint: Things my sprog should know...

Randomness Infinite: 10 things I want to tell my unborn kids.

Zesty: For Abdullah

Dreamlife.wordpress.com posted his at the comment section of my own (previous) post in the same thread: 10 or so things I may impart..

Hasina_S did her own review of the works and added to the fun with Womb with a View in her own eclectic and awesome style :)

If I have ommitted anyone or there are still more to come, please leave a comment at this post. I think most had fun doing this, Even those that Grrr'd at the tag ;)

Thanks Kay! This was fun. Energies were shared across the veld in a veritable Fire. And like i said, its amazing what comes of a simple ten :)

Much Love,
S

short stories in six words

A writer friend recently told me that Hemingway once wrote a short story in six words, and claimed it was his best; (FOR SALE: baby shoes, never worn.)

I was fascinated. So we decided to play with some ideas... okay so I cheated on the first one; and got cryptic on the second... but it was fun. Feel free to try it out! :P

***

He loved her. She lied. It was murder.

***

I love you. Dead flowers. Rain.

***

I do. A crash. Funeral honeymoon.

***

Thirty days. Paycheck. Paid rent. Broke.

***

One muffin. Pink icing for two.

***

A bottle. A rattle. Empty cot.

***

Fake flowers. Perfume. Fifty dollar nights.

***

Broken windscreen. Dead bird. No insurance.

***

One cake. Two people. Happy birthday.

***

ok now im just clowning around...

It was almost comical the way she did it. She squinched her nose in the mirror, rolled her eyes and then pouted her lips in that way fish do. Then came the sounds, the carnival tunes, the muffled voices of children's laughter and the glorious feel of the crowds applause. Deafening. Exciting. But it also filled her with a familiar dread.

And yet, this was her chosen ritual to calm her nerves before she took to the catwalk.

Her mom had been queen of the trapeze. Until that fateful day when she fell to her death. Her own life wasn't anything less of a circus act. The same anxiety. The same thrill. The applause and the adrenalin seemed to feed off each other. Fueling fear and delight at the same time. It was her rendezvous with heroine that kept it all in balance. Just like those glamorous trapeze artists.

travelling with my characters

Samina walked into the room. Something was different. Everything looked exactly as she remembered. But the place felt emptied of his presence. The smell of his cologne. The knowledge that his eyes would meet hers at some point. The sound of the grandfather clock down the hallway alerted her to the receding daylight hour. She scanned the room once more for some consolation. The persian rugs still welcomed her, as they had always done when she was a little girl. Her father's study had a mystery about it that held her in awe. But it was his energy that embraced her more than the essence of the place. And now, it was just as desolate and abandoned as she felt. Now that he was gone.