Personal Reflection

Working Hard In Silence

I think there’s something to be said about working hard in silence and not always announcing your accomplishments to the whole world.

I don’t want to brag or show off. I also don’t want to show anybody up.

Going forward, I just want to live my life quietly. I’m not sure why, but I don’t feel the need to share my successes with anybody or everybody all the time. Of course, I share some details, but I don’t share a lot.

There are things I want to achieve in my lifetime that I’ve never told anyone. If and when I do accomplish them, I’ll probably keep some things to myself. Then again, I like surprising people who underestimate me.

When I’m working away, I avoid talking about my progress. I’m not the best at selling myself, so I’d be awful at promoting my own work.

I want to be someone who works hard and goes about my business every day. Which is part of the reason why I don’t post much on social media.

I literally enjoy working in silence. Noise will be the death of me.

I like to believe that if I want something badly enough, I will work for it. If I don’t want it, I won’t. And that’s okay.

When it comes to my career, I feel I have a good idea of what I want. I probably have an even better idea of what I don’t want.

All this being said, I’ll talk about big milestones until my dying breath. But the small wins often stay close to my chest. I’ve just never been one for the spotlight.

After all, the strongest people survive battles no one else knows about. The smartest know when to stay silent and just listen.

More than anything, I have to define success on my own terms.


How To Silence Your Inner Editor

There are times you need to write, which means you somehow have to silence your inner editor. Unfortunately, that’s a lot easier said than done.

Below is all my bad advice on how to silence him or her.

Tell your editor to shut up. Put your foot down.

Ask nicely. If being mean doesn’t work, try being polite?

Don’t do anything. Sometimes not forcing the issue is the best thing you can do.

Embrace the obnoxious editor. Befriend him or her.

Ignore. Hopefully they can take a hint. Or at least learn to.

Blast music. Turn the volume up. Careful you don’t shatter your ear drums in the process.

Listen. Maybe your head is trying to tell you something. After you hear yourself out, maybe your inner editor will finally stop bothering you. One can hope.

Lock them in a cage and throw the key away. Or just imagine doing so.

Practice. Just keep writing.

Never write another word in your life. Non-writers don’t have to deal with annoying inner editors, right? It doesn’t seem like such a bad life.

Creative Writing

Where You Might Go | A Poem

Own it

You got this

Begin to believe

In who you are

Make your presence known

Let them hear you

No matter what happens

You won’t be silenced

So raise your voice

Say these words out loud

You never know

Where you might go


This Or That: Writing Edition

Just a fun game of this or that with a writing twist because why not.

Pen or pencil?

I used to be a pencil kind of gal when I was a kid, but now I'm old. I don't make mistakes that I need to erase. I don't get ink stains on anything. There are so many reasons why I love pens, I could write a blog post on it.

Spiral or non-spiral bound notebooks?

As much as I love the look of journals without spirals, they aren't as practical for me. I can hold a spiral notebook in one hand easier. Or maybe I just don't have any arm strength.

Write in the morning or at night?

Nighttime. I tend to read and edit in the earlier hours of the day. But when the sun sets, my muse suddenly wants to come out to play. So much for sleeping eight hours every night.

Work inside or outside?

I like not having to leave my house. I can stay in my pyjamas. I don't have to do my hair or makeup. I'm lazy. That's not news.

Music or silence?

When I'm handwriting, silence. When I'm typing, music. If I had to choose just one, I'd probably play songs in the background at a soft volume.

Write a little every day or a lot every so often?

A little every day. That's what I'm currently doing because it works best for me. I like writing enough to do it even when I don't feel like pulling words from my brain and putting them onto the page.

Short stories or long novels?

I tend to write short stories and read long novels. Perhaps novellas are my true love.

Lined paper or blank paper?

Lined all the way. I'll take lines on paper over dotted, graph, etc.

Characters or plot?

The former obviously. Characters make or break a novel for me.

Which choices would you pick?

Personal Reflection

Silence | What I Love | October 2016

I love silence. I love being silent.

Sometimes I don’t want to talk. More like most of the time. Sometimes I can’t talk. I still remember getting my tonsils removed, and I kid you not, I didn’t mind not being able to speak properly for days.

But I think people who understand my silence deserve a reward of some sort. Thanks for understanding that I don’t always want to talk. That, in rare cases, I physically can’t make sounds with my vocal cords.

I’m not trying to come off as rude. If I do, I’m sorry. I figure it’s better to say too little than to say too much. Or better yet, maybe say nothing at all.

Creative Writing

Hands Of An Unseen Clock

There are no clocks here so every minute seemingly blurred into the next. With every second, it became hard to discern details of the outside world beyond the rounded windows. The panes of glass only served as a division of sorts. It separated everyone inside versus everyone outside.

It’s as if the passengers all signed an unspoken agreement before embarking. A crying baby who didn’t know any better occasionally broke the nearly tangible silence. The mother pacified the kid with soothing remarks. Sitting adjacent to the parent and child sat a young man. The corners of his mouth curled upwards. At one point, the baby fell into silence with the rest of us. Almost like a blanket, the silence descended upon the narrow compartment once again for the reminder of my trip. No one else broke the agreement.

We picked up speed. External lights flashed across the glass, serving to illuminate part of an old man’s face only to cast shadows on his other half.

I was sitting but still moving. Moving from one place to another, point A to point B. I never understood why traveling could be so tiring. My eyes were heavy. It became easier to let them fall than keep them open.

Humans are built for movement. We can stand, walk, and run if need be. People shouldn’t sit for two hours straight, flitting their fingers on a screen the entire time. There’s a need to keep moving, to actively engage in our voyage through life. Even though we travel faster on two wheels or four wheels, as opposed to our own two feet, staying in a tiny compartment starts to feel like confinement. The metal box turned into a place of incarceration rather than independence.

Bodies filtered in through the doors every now and then. Some people left only so others could enter.

Nothing stopped. Even the hands of an unseen clock ticked away.

Creative Writing

The Day Never Ends

Our jokes go untold

Stories yet to unfold

In the midst of my dreams

I see a reality

A struggle in silence

A battle in our minds

We can begin again

Because the day never ends

Personal Reflection

The Hypocrite That I Am

I know being angry is stupid and futile. But I still get angry.

Instead of trying to solve a problem, I make it worse.

Rather than talking and discussing, I clam up and stay silent.

I hate this about myself. Yet I continue to do it.