Passion

It was a cool dark Saturday night. She lit one last candle before he walked in to see her dressed like the little vixen she was. When he arrived, tired from a long day at work, he wondered if she was just a figment of his imagination. "My Beta Kappa sisters gave me the idea." She smiled as he walked toward her, his body now buzzing with excitement. Her heart pounded like a drum as she ripped his shirt from the Princeton Charter Club off. She kissed him with such an intensity, he felt it rock him, body and soul.

Creativity

A long time to have words lost. Missing the free flow. Desiring to express, yet nothing seems to emerge. Seeking an outlet, a trigger, something to make all those words come back again. So many ideas, so many interesting starts. The trouble is making an end, completing, thinking it all the way through. Getting up the motivation to do, not just get excited, but to create. Is it possible to make something of nothing, to make something worth making. Strange how creativity stalls, sputters, and then sometimes can flow like water. How can the creativity be made to flow again?