Mrs.O's writing room.

The beginnings of craziness: The swelter of a summer’s day stirs a sudden desire to perform regrettable acts, to disregard values that have governed life. As I strain to make my way home after a day at work the sun beats down with relentless pressure. I force one foot in front of the other and resist the urge to remain motionless - to shrivel up under its burning gaze. Concerns and frustrations coupled with the need to fit into a different culture, to be accepted and understood boil within.  I straighten a paper clip and fix it in the Nissan parked in the car lot. I want to get in and drive away. The alarm goes off but I don’t care. I don’t care for the consequences, my instincts are not motivated by the need for a car. I just want a little attention. Sweat oozes from my pores. The reflection from the sun irks me. I want to scream. Now I understand why  Camus’ Stranger  pulled the trigger. The rays unravel crude instincts buried under frustrations and nagged by egoti...

Every time I walk into a dentists office, I'm reminded why I should have listened to mom. She told me sweets were not good for my teeth but it didn't register - Big G, toffees and tropical mint were essential to life. I insisted and look where it got me - constant sessions on that dreaded chair opening my mouth wide, sweating profusely as huge needles pierce my gums. I have cut a few inches off my waist and strengthened my stomach muscles in that chair. The doctor drills, fills, cements and crowns and all the while thoughts of building sites and house construction flash across mind. My stomach feels like one big pool of cold porridge at the sound of those machines. I imagine the doctor might drill through my skull, or pierce through my lower jaw. When silent machines are invented perhaps I will be a happier patient. If  teeth were on our elbows perhaps it would not feel so life threatening, one could then choose to look away while the doctor poked and pulled. But because ...