New theme!

I really like the new balloon theme, so thought I would try it out to see what people think! The only snag seems to be that the links etc are at the bottom, and the layout is fixed and cannot be changed.

EDIT EDIT!!!!!

Ok, another change. I’m really trying to make this work, peoples! Let me know what you like/don’t like etc etc!

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Emotional Olympics

This post is really a shameless plug for a Blog of mine that I’ve set up to get me through August. It’s also to educate ‘the general public’ about how quite severe psychological difficulties effect day to day life, and why.

When I first joined the Westminster Writers, I was determined to keep the fact that I was diagnosed with a mental illness [that is, depression plus] a secret. This soon became impossible – you don’t write from the heart and relate meaningfully to your peers and cover up your vulnerabilities.

It’s also ‘de rigueur’ these days to come out of the closet about these things, to combat stigma. I wish it were that easy to combat snap judgements and prejudice about psychological vulnerabilities…

I’m also keen to explore what they call ‘life writing’ in a semi extended form and maybe get some feedback. It’s not a WordPress blog, but I may post excerpts here. You’re welcome to follow it if you wish.

The Blog can be found at – http://emotionalolympics.blogspot.co.uk/

caeblogs

[Feels like I haven’t posted a short story in a while. Another group exercise although I can’t remember where the topic for this came from. I enjoyed writing this one. Hope you like it.]

“I’m so sorry,” Jamie apologised as he stretched his hand out to help the fallen woman.

“That’s ok, I should have been paying more attention,” the woman smiled up at him as she took his hand and pulled herself up.

The second her hand touched his open palm, Jamie felt a slight jolt and had to steady himself. In the next few seconds, he saw it all. Their first date was a cheesy affair at an Italian restaurant he knew well. They both had too much wine but were still restrained enough to save their fist kiss for their second date, a much less contrived meeting at a live act bar where an obscure band they…

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The Harvest

Chronicles of Tania

Mr Trotter looked at his fruit trees and vegetable patch with sadness. It had been a wet summer and the plant roots were water-logged and he had shrivelled mouldy fruit and vegetables to show for his efforts.

Mr Green his forever nosey neighbour popped his head over the fence to give his opinion on the state of things.

“Bad luck Trotter, you should have got that greenhouse put in. My babies are doing well despite the wretched weather.”

Mr Trotter looked at Mr Green’s smug grin and felt himself shrivel up inside. Mr Green’s marrows were set to win the coveted ‘Most impressive fruit and vegetable’ competition again this October. How his neighbour grew them to that size, he had no idea. Flavour didn’t seem to matter anymore in the competition. Large sized alien fruit and vegetables genetically modified out of all proportion seemed to be the order of the…

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It’s Dark in the Park

Chronicles of Tania

It’s Dark in the Park

 

A twilight stroll

in the hinterland of a central park

is a curious place, of moving shadows

and shades of grey.

 

Footsteps echo along paths.

Snickering couples in the dark.

A flashlight from park control,

highlights a pooch on cruise control.

 

It’s a time of light inversely proportional to volume.

The evening chorus of deafening birds,

crickets and frogs create a cacophony

somehow in symphony.

 

Creatures from horror movies enter the mind.

Breathe quickens under glittering eyes

hidden in bushes of various size.

Foxes, rabbits or dogs, it’s hard to say;

it could just be a couple of gays.

 

You speed up but hear your tail gather pace.

Is it a serial killer or a giant nut-seeking squirrel?

You can’t wait and dash towards the gate!

 

© Tania Dias

 

 

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low places

On our darkest days

even the dust is frosted with solitude.

In love with all the fallen trees

the shabby coats of dismay

ending trust.

A secret tryst with compassion

then

seeking bitter tears

limey deposits of soreness

betraying time’s shapeshifter.

All the boughs are broken

solidifying serenity

in the face of the enemy

worshipping dust

for the sake of the dawn –

do you have faith as an ally?