On the rooftop, I shudder.
Nancy says it’s a stupid idea; I can’t be a super hero if I’m afraid of heights. She says to be a hero you have to scale buildings, leap from rooftop to rooftop, or, in the best case scenario, fly.
“You can’t be a hero if you can’t fly,” she says. “It’s part of the curriculum. I’m sorry, but it is.”
But what Nancy doesn’t know is that I’ve been practicing.
I have been scaling buildings — or, at least, the fire escape outside my window — trying to fly. The rooftops are high up. …
We’re experiencing a lot right now: the tragedy in Lebanon, the polarity of the nation, Covid hitting back, leaving us unprepared for the consequences of our actions.
It’s a trying time.
Yet through adversity, we can grow into stronger versions of ourselves; better human beings for the betterment of the world and everyone in it.
Ernest Hemingway understood this, and he left his wisdom for surviving troubled times in a plethora of quotes from his acclaimed novels, essays, and interviews.
Here are 5 of my favorites:
Despite his untimely end, Ernest Hemingway was a man of principle. His perspective was based on the notion that life is pain; yet through pain comes the ability to overcome — to live. …
Life as a budding writer is tough.
It’s a daunting endeavor, which, at times, sucks away at your creative soul like a leech burrowing for blood in every orifice of your body; creeping, inching, seething its way through your heart and mind, until you have nothing left to give but the shirt off your back.
It’s rough sledding, is what I’m saying.
It can be difficult to find the time, let alone the energy, to produce quality work each and every day. …
I’m in Brooklyn, sitting at the park a few blocks from my apartment, watching as kids play in the summer sun. They’re laughing, blowing bubbles, chasing them across the open field like fireflies. The scene is nostalgic, reminiscent of a time when I felt like life was fun, carefree, open to the endless possibilities the world had to offer.
But does it?
Moving to a new place, you would think so. But I still feel restless, overwhelmed, unable to see the beauty in the transition; in my surroundings. It’s stressful. Being in a new place so far from home. …
Ever heard of writer’s block? Of course you have, you’re a writer, and you’re on Medium, so you’ve probably heard everything there is to know about writer’s block: why it comes to be, how it comes to be, how and why you can stop it from being. But what is it really?
Writer’s block is perfectionism.
It’s the idea that what we write, whatever we write, is art — gold-brilliant-genius — and therefore is sustained only in perfection.
What I mean by this is that we think that we have to be perfect each and every time we sit down and write, because to do so means we’re real writers — that not to do so means we’re not real writers. …
Life is a series of cycles.
It’s constantly transitioning from one point to another; place to place, person to person, moment to moment.
It’s never stagnate, never consistent, always changing, revolving around frame of time that stops only when we’re dead.
Yet we’re constantly searching for consistency in our lives. Picking careers, partners, friends, that we hope will provide some sort of normal; some sort of status quo by which we can feel safe, comfortable, able to live the way we want.
But the reality is that we’re searching for normal amongst an ever-shifting sea of change. We are born, we experience, we learn, and we grow, transitioning into the versions of ourselves we deem best. And we continue this cycle until our last breath. …
I just moved to Brooklyn last week.
It was a transition I’d been dreaming of for quite some time; hoping, wishing, searching for a way out of the existential crisis I’d been experiencing for the past two years. It’s been a challenge, a rough go-at-it, as all change is want to be. And because of this, I haven’t been writing.
I stopped writing — anything new, at least — about a month ago, because I was stuck on a piece I couldn’t finish (still haven’t). …
Every felt tired? Overwhelmed? Creatively exhausted and sick of the world, Medium, and trying every second of the day to be the best version of yourself?
I know I have.
For the past week or so I’ve been trying to write, trying to publish, and failing to get out more than a piece a week; it was getting overwhelming, draining on my mind and my creative soul to the point where nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
Until today, that is, when I finally took a nap.
This past month has been rough. I’ve gone through a lot. Mostly because my grandfather passed away, but also because I’ve been writing a lot; expending my mental faculties to the limit, trying to become the best writer I can be. …
Writing is hard. It’s grueling work, a somewhat thankless and oftentimes painful process. Because to write with any sort of authority takes authenticity. It takes courage, discipline, unapologetic candor.
It takes truth.
It took me a while to figure this out. So it took me a while to find my voice. And it was only once I stopped making excuses and started getting to work — asking myself honest questions and being honest with my answers — did my voice find its way to the surface.
A voice in a sea of voices, yet a voice heard nonetheless.
“Think of those who, not by fault or inconsistency but by lack of effort, are too unstable to live as they wish, but only live as they have begun.” …
I have goals that I need to reach this coming month if I am to get to Brooklyn and become the writer that I know I can be. Goals on writing, goals on my health — both physical and mental — and goals that have to do with a more personal nature.
But it’s been a weird month. Filled with ups and downs. And I’ve been thrown a little off kilter by my grandfather’s death. Yet I’m still writing. I’m still sitting down at the blank page each day and coming up with words to fill the spaces between my heart and soul. …