Flip Flop|| Hidden Heroes

Flip Flop

An attempt at fictional blogging! Image

“Think of a topic or issue about which you’ve switched your opinion. Why the change?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us TRANSITION.”


She crinkled her nose. She hated the smell of airports. To be honest, she thought, she hated airports. Period. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the baggage carousel to start moving. She’d just jumped off of a thirteen hour flight – and it hadn’t been a pleasant one. Her mind flared as she thought of being surrounded by four wailing babies. The audio jack for her screen wasn’t working so she’d been left to fend off the agonizing wails of the infants. The bags under her eyes were visible enough to make her pass for being a blood-deprived vampire. She checked her watch. Where the hell were the bags? She barely noticed the arrival of a new human being. She heard his cheerful whistling before she saw him. The sound grated her ears. That was a result of her abominable mood.

“Looks like it’s a slow day today,” he chirped. She looked at him. He was talking to her.

“Yeah, looks like it,” she replied quietly. He nodded.

“So what’s your story?” he asked her. She looked at him, astounded. This guy had only been standing next to her for a couple of seconds and he was already asking her questions like “what’s your story”? That was a rather forward move. She blinked a couple of times.

“What do you mean?” she asked him.

“Exactly that,” he replied. “What’s your story? Why are you here?”

The nerve of this man, she thought. How dare he question her like he had a right to do so? She sighed.

“Flew in from South Africa,” she explained. “Student looking to take a break and find herself.”

He nodded.

“When’d you lose yourself?” he asked simply. She looked at him, lost for words.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked him, partially flabbergasted.

“When did you lose yourself?” he asked again. She felt a surge of annoyance travel through her system. She didn’t have time for this. She, for some reason though, felt a need to reply.

“A while back,” she replied. He nodded. He bent over and picked up a single backpack. She was taken aback; when did the carousel start moving? She wondered. He stood up straight and smiled at her.

“Well, I’m off,” he said. “Good luck finding yourself.”

He sauntered off before she could reply. She shook her head. What kind of guy was he? Asking her such questions like he knew her. She wrote him off as a typical twenty-something male who thought that he had the right to question everyone around him. She hauled her suitcase off of the carousel with the force of an angered warrior goddess. She checked that she had everything and headed for the airport entrance. She sighed. Let the journey begin.


Six months later.

She exited Starbucks with her Vanilla latte in one hand and her prized cinnamon-coated bun, safely packaged. She looked around. London mornings were the epitome of the term “hustle and bustle”. People everywhere with important things to do, important people to see, and important things to say. There she was just hoping she’d get back to her flat with her breakfast intact. She allowed the chilly breeze to tickle her cheek as she waited to cross the road. The traffic light was refusing to change but it didn’t bother. In her six months of “self-discovery” she’d learned the true meaning of patience – she learned the hard way. From blatantly manipulative cab drivers, to bartenders with very shaky hands, and all the way to the rather grumpy people she encountered on the daily – she’d learned. She’d learned a lot of lessons and she was glad.

“Look out!” she heard someone yell. She looked around but didn’t get a chance to see anything as she was tackled to the ground.

“What the…?” she looked up and gasped. She knew that face. It was him. The cocky guy from the airport. Her world came into better focus as she heard the commotion around her. She sat up slowly and looked around. Her mouth formed an oval shape as she saw a cab partially wrapped around the pole she’d been leaning on. The driver was standing above her, simultaneously asking her worried questions and apologizing. A small group of people surrounded her but she kept looking at “Airport Guy”. He was looking at her.

“You saved me,” she said. Her voice sound terribly weak. It must have been the shock. He grinned.

“Yeah, looks like I did,” he replied. “Fancy meeting you again like this.”

She nodded quietly as she looked at her spilled coffee and crushed cinnamon bun. She shuddered as she realized that had it not been for Airport Guy, she would’ve ended up in a far more severe state compared to her crushed breakfast. Airport Guy helped her up.

“How?” she asked. That’s the only thing that could leave her mouth.

“I saw you, recognized you and was on my way to greet you but then I saw the cab hurtling towards you and you were in a world of your own,” he explained. If she was white, she would’ve been as red as a tomato. “So I took a risk and rugby tackled you to the ground. I half expected you to deck me when you sat up.”

“Why?” she asked. Since when was she a woman of monosyllabic words? She wondered.

“Well, I didn’t think that you’d want to see my face,” he responded simply. “I pissed you off at the airport.”

She looked away sheepishly.

“Sorry,” she replied quietly. He tilted her chin and smiled.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m used to it. The whole judge a book by its cover thing.”

“Well, I’ve revoked my first review of the book,” she smiled. “This book is a piece worth keeping.”

He grinned.

“Well it looks like you lost your breakfast,” he observed the sad sight that lay a meter away from them. “How about I treat you to a proper breakfast?”

She looked at him suspiciously. He raised his hands in the air.

“We’re all friends here,” he said. “Besides, no one can turn down good bacon.”

“True,” she smiled.

“The joint may look a little disappointing,” he warned. “But trust me, your opinion will change once you’ve had a forkful of eggs, toast and bacon.”

She nodded happily.

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time my opinion has changed about something,” she added. They looked at the harried crowd that surrounded the accident. She shrugged.

“Let’s go,” she said. They walked away cheerfully.

“So the last time I checked,” he said, “You were on some journey of some sort? Rediscovering yourself?”

She laughed and nodded.

“Well, how’s it going? Have you found yourself yet?”

She paused thoughtfully.

“No,” she replied. “A wise someone and their smart aleck questions taught me something.”

“What’s that?” he asked, amused.

“I never lost myself,” she said simply. “Never have and I never will.”

“Any other gems you picked up?” he asked.

“Yep,” she responded. “One person’s annoyance is another person’s hero. I was the lucky bugger who got both.”


The Nomad In Me

If you could live a nomadic life, would you? Where would you go? How would you decide? What would life be like without a “home base”?


A nomadic life? Me? The freedom to wonder around wherever I please with no parent calling me every other day asking why I haven’t called? No one to answer to but myself? A life of choosing where I want to live – a cute B&B when I have the money or a comfortable-looking tree on the days where my finances are not with me? A life based on “Carpe Diem”? A life of waking up and I truly am the master of my fate? Captain of my destiny?

As a nomad, I’d definitely meet a new, interesting – this can go both ways – individual every day. A friendly, elderly woman who’d decided to give me a generous donation after seeing my weather-beaten clothes. A lost, drunken soul wandering around as much as me, searching for something to give his life meaning. A nomad like me, embracing life and all of its complexities, perplexities, and strangeness.

I’d enjoy the wandering around and discovering new things. Seeing the world for what it really is. But that has its ups and downs. I’d discover more beauty in nature – ever-shining sunlight; beautiful, cooling breezes; birds singing songs the world will never appreciate. I’d also experience the pain of sleeping outside during an endless thunderstorm; excruciating pain from the bites of different insects; wind so strong I don’t have to walk – I just blow away.

I’d love the freedom to be my own person. I’d understand the meaning of “freedom to choose”. I’d make my own rules. I’d live by my own standards. But I’d also encounter loneliness – severe loneliness. I’d have to put up with seeing happy families laughing over a good dinner in a humble restaurant. I’d have to live with being referred to as a “vagabond” even though I’m not. Forever being seen as a lowly individual just because I’d chosen not to live like my peers.


“Carpe Diem” might be fun but I think I value my family, friends, and bed much more. I’ll allow my nomadic nature to remain in my imagination. I think it’s safer there.

Much safer.


Greatness – More than the Average.



Photographers, artists, poets: show us GREATNESS.


*Something a little different today. A poetic attempt at defining greatness.*



The behemoth. The giant.

Gigantor – the one and only.

The one who’s been ordained close to holy

All because of his stature – as colossal as it is.

All the tiny minions look upon him and cower in awe and wonder.

“He’s the one. He’s the great.” – They mutter. They gasp.

Their mouths open wide as he flexes his grasp

In front of the little ones. The people. The humans.

The humans call him great. He sees himself and says

“Greatness? Me?”

He nods.

“Greatness. Me.”

“Greatness is Me.”

But is Greatness really the great big monster we can’t comprehend?

Is it really the big mystery which seems to have no end?

I think not. Really. I think not.

I think we have forgotten. Yes. We’re quite lost.

Greatness is not defined by the size we see with our eyes.

Greatness is sized up by the actions, the words, the feats of one

Who chose to despise

The ways of being normal. The life of being plain.

Greatness was in King David when he defeated the great giant

That towered over him.

Greatness was in the people, the ‘weird’ people, who chose to

Chase their dreams and use their talents whilst others were too busy

Falling, tripping, and stumbling on the corporate ladder to nowhere.

Greatness is in those who choose to perservere.

It’s in those who stand even when life says “Sit”,

Who make a big something out of a little “it”.

Greatness knows no size. Greatness knows no form.

Greatness wondering around waiting to explode in the life of another

Human being who has seen that life can mean

So much more

If you just learn to strive for a little more

Than the average Joe.

I’ll speak to that.

Take That Jump!

Daily Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/06/18/daily-prompt-jump/



Alright so picture this:

A cool breeze tickling your skin, teasing strands of your hair – for those who have hair that can be teased. The fresh smell of the sea filling your lungs with each excited breath you take. The sound of seagulls, maybe a few dolphins – if you’re lucky, and the crashing waves below you. The warmth of the sun on your back. The uneven soil beneath your feet – a few rocks making you feel slightly uncomfortable. The feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff, probably a lot of feet above the sea below. You look down. All you see is clear, blue water. No rocks. No obstacles out there to end your life. If you take the jump, you’ll drop into the sea and come back up – a few waves may knock you over but you’ll come out alive. Knowing this, will you jump?

I’m sure a number of you will say “No.” A few of you adventurous folk will say “Yes” without a single moment of hesitation. As for me? Well, my “Yes” is a pending one. I’ll explain.

That scenario I told you to picture? That’s one of the biggest risks I’d like to take. Jumping off of a cliff and landing in the ocean. No, I am not suicidal. I intend on coming out of the water alive – and in one complete piece. This wish of mine has been on my mind since the day I dreamt it. That exact scenario I described graced my subconscious. I woke up feeling exhilarated. I woke up feeling inspired. I woke up feeling rather pensive.

As much as I’d like to take this risk, I can’t do so right now. Why? Well because I don’t know of such a place where I can jump off of a cliff into clear blue water and come out alive. I know it is out there though. The moment I find it – I will mentally prepare myself for the jump for about ten years. I know myself. My fear of heights will not allow me to take this jump comfortably. But I want to get to a point in my life where I will overlook that fear and just jump. Sure I’ll scream – and curse a couple of times – on my way down but the moment I hit that water and resurface, everything will change. I can already feel the sense of victory; the sense of accomplishment. The pride that comes with overcoming a fear.

The thing about this risk is that – there’s more to it than just the literal. Figuratively, I have a lot of cliffs I’d love to jump off of. I won’t name them now – those are articles for another day. Why haven’t I jumped? Well because I need to find the right time, the right people, the right place – stay with me. We all have those risks we want to take. That one person we want to give our heart to. That one change we want to make with our hair. A change in environment. A relationship we need to end. A change in ourselves we need to make. We can see the outcome – freedom. But it’s the thought of jumping and taking the risk that scares us. Fear that a random rock will pop out of nowhere – even though there is no chance whatsoever that a rock will appear – and hurt us. All sorts of doubts fill our head and keep us standing on that cliff edge, soaking up the sun.

I want to stop soaking up the sun. I want to feel myself drop into something new. Something awesome. A sea of total awesomeness – yes, “awesomeness”. I know I’m not alone on that. Think carefully. Think deeply. You know there’s something you need to do – something risky – but your nerve won’t let you do it. You’re waiting for a comfortable time to take that risk. Here’s some news friend: that time will not come. You have to make it for yourself.

I may still be standing on that cliff edge…but I can feel it in me that I’m ready to jump. Lifting my feet slowly…bracing myself…

One…two…three. Here goes nothing.