Indecision

This is probably an understatement but I’m a very indecisive person. I don’t know why but I’ve always felt the need to ask people what I should and should not do. By the end of the day, I’ve asked so many people that this puts me in yet another dilemma of having to decide between …

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8:38 am

That morning, it was unusually cold. A ring from a distant relative woke me up. When I saw her name on the screen and the time in my phone, I couldn’t keep the annoyance off of my sleepy self. Nevertheless, I decided to answer it. What triggered that action was in fact a selfish thought …

Euny Hong suggests keeping your big goals to yourself. via Stop Talking About That Book You’re Writing — Discover

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They must have been really hungry for as soon as she set down the bowl, one of them-the brown one came jumping on its feet and started gulping the milk with a ‘plop, plop’ that indicated desperation. After what seemed like a few seconds, the mother made its way towards the bowl. Perhaps it was …

Five Thirty A.M.

My first post on my new fiction blog. ❤

whenthewatersglitter

When the voices of Azan- the Call to Prayers- elicit hints of ecstasy from the far ends of the streets and the wheels of the bicycles turn recalcitrant outside the Masajid, every being in the vicinity wakes up to the mesmerizing darkness of the morn.
It was not exactly an exotic view from where she sat but it was enough to make her not covet to move away from there. It was altogether too impossible that such little sparrows could make her feel something entirely too strong and uncanny for every time she lifted her head up to wait for words, she realized they came naturally just as the leaves on a nearby tree made no effort to move and were moved naturally. That was when she realized the power of morning prayers.
The chirps started subsiding and the sun waited to rise from behind the clouds. It seemed…

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I have a vested interest.

Tenure, She Wrote

In the fourth grade, I was obsessed with marine science and sonar technology, and I’d spend Saturday afternoons watching The Hunt for Red October instead of Saved by the Bell. That summer, I toured a Navy sub in dry dock– my first time! — and I asked the officer leading the tour when we’d be going to the sonar room. “Sorry, kid. It’s classified,” he said. Masking my disappointment, I replied that it was okay, because I was going to be a sonar technician when I grew up, and I could wait until then. “But they don’t let girls on subs,” was the officer’s surprised reply, as he looked at me as if I’d sprouted horns. When I asked why not, he told me I wouldn’t want to be stuck on a sub with a bunch of smelly guys anyway. My “Then…why aren’t there submarines for just girls?” got no reply.

So, I have a vested…

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