Zann was unlike any other writer out there. He wrote religiously, day and night, rarely fretting over fortune and fame. Even when the tedium of his days stretched beyond his iron will, he didn’t budge from his desk. And neither did his sweaty palms from his keyboard.
In his room, studded with old soundproofing rugs, only his fingers could be heard, dancing on the keyboard, like a Julliard pianist warming up.
But as fate would have it, the universe tested him one day. An earthquake devoured his abode, along with the desk he loved so dearly. Bereft of anything but…
If there’s one word I could use to describe my overall writing experience, it’s ambivalent. I have mixed feelings about it. I hate it at times and love it during others.
Some days, while I skim through all the ideas I’ve gathered in my catalog of drafts, my chest swells up with pride. Other days, I scoff at the same drafts, thinking about all the great ideas I left behind on lost paper napkins, parchments of paper, $1 notepads, and forgotten dreams.
The plain realization that my best work was lost in the void of inaction makes me reconsider this…
It was the summer break of 2010 when my father helmed the responsibility of making me less of a serial late riser. “Oh, what a beautiful morning…♬ ♫ ♪ ♩,” he chimed at 6 a.m while drawing the curtains. When that didn’t work, his voice suddenly went from pleasant to rasp as he boomed, “Get uppppp! You lethargic fellow!”
I carried the weight of being a “lethargic fellow” throughout college. The guilt was real. And so, I bought an alarm clock.
Soon, I met others of my kind — the self-confessed sluggish slumberers. One of them was my college roommate…
Well-meaning folk in the online writing community disapprovingly shake their heads. “Stick to a niche,” they say. “You’ll never have a targetted audience.”
But after getting tired of the same old advice, I decided to write an article that’s a mishmash of different niches. The result surprised me. Although it isn’t (yet) among my most read articles, it is one of the few I’m proud of.
I’m among the world’s 1% of the 1% people who love Mondays.
The reason being that after procrastinating my work all week, I see Monday as an opportunity to start afresh. This dependence on Mondays kicks off another cycle of procrastination, but that’s another story. I Like Mondays.
Last Monday wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows though. I learned a crucial lesson about writing — it’s all fun and games until you get rejected.
After pouring my heart and soul into an article that describes my struggles as a writer, I did precisely what any brave writer would do. …
In the most viewed Ted talk of all time, Do Schools Kill Your Creativity, Sir Ken Robinson cites several examples and scenarios which suggest that there’s something seriously wrong with the education system.
“If you sit kids down day after day indoors at desks, doing what often amounts to low-grade clerical work, then don’t be surprised if they fidget, don’t achieve a great deal and don’t feel very good about themselves,” he quotes.
His insights got me thinking:
Is it just the education system that prohibits us from reaching our creative potential? …
Isn’t it amazing how there’s no one way to live your life?
You can practice positive affirmations, hoping that they’ll manifest in the real world and lead you to your pot of gold. Or, you can live the rest of your life preparing for the absolute worst.
It’s these contradicting beliefs that divide the “self-help community” into two halves:
I won’t lie. I worked myself to the bone. At times, skipping meals and sleep along the way.
But I couldn’t help it. After landing my dream job, I was determined to make something out of the opportunity. So I worked day-in and day-out, ignoring my mental and physical wellbeing.
Little did I realize that it would later take a heavy toll on me.
In some ways, I did reap the benefits of my hustle. However, these benefits, too, came with a hefty price tag. Often, I found myself juggling with more work than I could handle.
Only after sticking…
Let’s face it. Life is hard. Death comes quick. In a heartbeat. Without being picky. But it isn’t death that we truly fear. Rather, we fear living a life that is full of unfulfilled desires and endless tragedies.
To ensure that the fear of regret never comes back to haunt us in our death beds, we delve into inexplicable behaviors, rules made by others, disillusioned decisions, and frustrating life choices. In turn, we waste time.
Regret isn’t necessarily bad, though.
It just reminds you that you’re smack dab in the middle of life’s crossroads. It is, however, a double-edged sword…
“Oh no,” the two words choked out of my throat when I noticed a red gash on my right leg.
“Oh no,” I said when my adrenaline from the bike accident started fading and the pain kicked in.
“Oh no,” were my last two words before a sense of extreme paranoia dawned upon me.
I could feel. I could feel the pain so much that it made me question the very existence of God, love, or any other force of nature that can make one feel things one has never felt before.
As any wise man would, I decided to…