In October 2017, I undertook the 30-day Writing Challenge for the second time. Below is the result. I’ve posted the daily topic first so feel free to Ctrl + F and jump into what interests you.
Day 1/30: List 20 random facts about yourself.
Day 2/30: Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears
Day 3/30: List 10 things you would tell your 15-year-old self, if you could
Day 4/30: What are the 5 things that make you most happy right now?
Day 5/30: What is the hardest thing you have experienced?
Day 6/30: What is the thing you most wish you were great at?
Day 7/30: List 10 people who have influenced you and describe how
Day 8/30: What is your favourite part of the body and why?
Day 9/30: What are 5 traits you have that are simultaneously strengths and weaknesses?
Day 10/30: Sit down and write for 15 minutes. Post it here without editing.
Day 11/30: Outside the window
Day 12/30: Smell the moment
Day 13/30: Exaggerate something ordinary
Day 14/30: Conversation over dinner
Day 15/30: Six word stories
Day 16/30: Into the light
Day 17/30: Ego and pride
Day 18/30: My other life
Day 19/30: Losing your innocence
Day 20/30: Not commonly encountered
Day 21/30: Muse
Day 22/30: Equanimity
Day 23/30: Modernity
Day 24/30: Help
Day 25/30: Exquisite
Day 26/30: Drive
Day 27/30: Mindset
Day 28/30: Increment
Day 29/30: Hesitate
Day 30/30: Finale
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Day 1/30: List 20 random facts about yourself.
1. I am shorter than 1.7m. Welp.
2. I’ve played Dota and Dota 2 since 2006/2007. I understand it more than I understand most people.
3. I truly enjoy writing. I really do. I despise editing though.
4. I am an Aquarius.
5. I don’t believe in horoscope.
6. One of my favourite historical figures is Augustus.
7. Between Locke’s and Hobbes’s theories of the state, I prefer Locke’s version. This is starting to get random.
8. My preferred gelato flavour is salted pistachio.
9. Blue cheese and Shiraz make for a very fine dinner. Throw in some cold cut and we are gucci.
10. I did take a selfie with the Mona Lisa. Not very impressed with the art to be honest.
11. I also have a selfie with the Eiffel Tower. Now that’s some impressive architecture.
12. I like my hot chocolate with chili. You will think I am weird until you’ve tried it.
13. The only two books I read in one sitting (on separate occasions) are Orwell’s 1984 and Coelho’s The Alchemist.
14. I used to take my coffee with condensed milk, until I gave up condensed milk.
15. Bill Clinton is my favourite public speaker. Such mesmerising storytelling.
16. I’ve been listening to a lot of Sinatra these days. No idea why.
17. I have right now 1,299 follows on Quora. That’s something right? Right?
18. I think I look good in a suit. Well, a man’s got to believe.
19. I can play Chinese Chess. Current proficiency not assessed.
20. I look 10-15 years older than I actually am. Welp.
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Day 2/30: Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears
1. Starving
This one is fairly straightforward. I have never starved, but I have been hungry before. That predictably was not a pleasant experience. While I don’t want my stomach to be bursting, I don’t want it to be empty either. I realise that I am not rich enough to never worry about starving, so I keep on hustling to ensure that I can feed me now as well as forty years down the road. A man has gotta eat before he is concerned about other issues.
2. Dying a stupid death
I am afraid I will die from a silly accident. A coming car I didn’t see. A falling plant pot I didn’t avoid in time. A misstep when descending a staircase. You get the idea.
Perhaps this fear stems on the value I put on my life. I understand that in this lifetime, I am capable of achieving great things, of accomplishing great deeds (well at least I am convinced so). I don’t want it to end abruptly for nothing. If I die, at least let me die a meaningful death. A loved one, an idea, a cause. Getting crushed in a road accident that serves no purpose is just disheartening. Life is tremendously precious and incredibly fragile. Dying a stupid death is, well, stupid. The fearsome part is, I have little control over accidents (they are called “accidents” for that reason).
3. Disappointing myself
I have disappointed a great many people. Acquaintances, friends, probably even family at some point. But letting myself down has always been most frightening. Despite the fact that I have been frightened for a long time now, I can’t really get used to it. My stomach still churns at the thought of falling short of a target I’ve set or just simply doing what I’ve promised not to do. It eats at you, you know. It may be part of being human, but it is not a delightful part. Ironically, this fear has been a prime motivator in my life so far. I try my very best so that I do not disappoint myself.
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Day 3/30: List 10 things you would tell your 15-year-old self, if you could
Alright son, let’s get you seated. You’re too young to drink so have a coke instead. Listen up, there is stuff you really need to hear:
- You will board the plan to study in Singapore in November. Brush up on your English so you won’t have to suffer too much. This is an incredible time, so seize every opportunity you’ve got.
- Learn to embrace pain. The path you will walk is full of it. Any path you walk will be full of it.
- Exercise more. You have been neglecting your health long enough. Get your arse on the treadmill and run as if you’ve just stolen something. Also, cut down on the sugar. No more soft drinks after this coke. Keep to plain ol’ water.
- You will gradually transition into a social-science person. There is nothing to be alarmed of. You will be good at it and you will enjoy it. Keep an open mind.
- Call your/our parents more often. Most parents aren’t used to have their 15-year-old child go away. Empathise more with your mom especially.
- Make more good friends, establish more authentic connections. They will prove valuable down the road, both personally and professionally.
- Take ownership of your life. Own it since it is all you have. You are in charge. Change what you want to change. Yes, you can do that, young lad. Yes, you can.
- Don’t be too hard on yourself. You will go on to achieve great accomplishments. You will also go through spectacular failures. It is okay to fail because in the long term, you are still winning. Focus on the big picture.
- Never shake hands while you are sitting.
- Respect her agency.
That’s probably it for now. Keep these 10 commandments at heart and you will be alright. Alas, you will hurt. But you will be alright. Trust me, I’ve been through worse.
Now you go on. Live. The world is your oyster.
Ciao ciao.
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Day 4/30: What are the 5 things that make you most happy right now?
- It’s Friday. Enough said.
- I just had dinner. Enough said.
- September is unofficially over. Not gonna lie, it has been a tough month, tougher than what I’ve mentally prepared for. A tad straining towards the end but I pulled through. I learned a ton from exciting challenges this month so it is a good one for growth. And the paycheck arrived too ayyy.
- I have so much to write. Several Quora answers. Some new blog posts. An entire new blog. Many reports and proposals. If I get bored with one I’ll switch to another. Having a range of writing projects is exhilarating because I revel in words. People who think writing is boring are boring. I might have finally found my groove. May the ink flow not be stopped.
- I am mentally pumped for October. I’ve got it all mapped out. Things will derail from the plan for sure but I will deal with it. It is going to be hard. That’s why it is going to be good.
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Day 5/30: What is the hardest thing you have experienced?
Watching the person I have fallen for fall for somebody else.
There, I said it.
Before you raise your pitchforks with righteous indignation, let me just put this forward: I fully recognise that my feelings impose no obligations on another autonomous person. I do not expect my romantic interest to be reciprocated. She is free to date whomever she chooses.
Still, the feeling is a bitch to experience. It resembles having a fragment of metal lodged in your heart.
Once in a while, the fragment twitches.
And the house trembles.
It happens ephemerally but when it does, you are suddenly out of breath. Your chest feels heavy as if somebody put a slab of marble on it. Your vision turns blurry.
Seeing the person you fancy fancy another person is hard because there is no external recourse. You still have to act normal because you are expected to act normal. Like a fully functioning member of society. It is your problem and there isn’t really an immediate fix.
There is one slightly relevant quote from the show Boston Legal. Setting: Alan is contemplating whether he should defend the husband of his former lover. Denny then says:
“Now I’m telling you as your best friend, get out.
In defeat, you lose, disappointing the one woman you’ve really loved.
In victory she walks away with her husband. Which isn’t you.”
This has happened to me more than once and I have little doubt it will happen to me on many more occasions in future times. Seeing and knowing the person I am attracted to be attracted to somebody else is part of the human experience, I know. That doesn’t make it suck less.
P.S: I was considering writing about self-doubt or low self-esteem, but I have managed to get a grip on those two so this is on the chopping block instead.
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Day 6/30: What is the thing you most wish you were great at?
This is almost too easy.
I wish I were great at speech.
If you have known me for some time, it will certainly have come up. It’s been a thorn in my side for quite some time.
I am not verbally articulate. I stutter. I stammer. I stumble.
As soon as I open my mouth, my mind goes blank. I choke hard. It is almost a reflex action. I speak like dummy with the vocabulary of a grade 10 student. The frustrating thing is, it is definitely not a language issue since I am much more expressive with writing. When you compare my written and verbal communications, it’s like day and night. For instance:
My prose: Her eyes were like stars in a dark night, men would kill just to catch a glimpse of them. Her smirk can drive a person to madness. Surrounding her was always an air of elegance and grace. For she was Aphrodite incarnate.
My speech: She was a pretty girl.
Where this ineloquence comes from, I don’t know. A long time ago, a friend told me it might stem from my “psychological problems” and “deeply rooted issues” (inside inverted commas are her exact words). I can’t discard the possibility that she might be right. However, I think it also has something to do with the way I think. My thoughts often fly too fast that they often become mingled by the time I utter them into words. I don’t know. I have never been diagnosed by a professional in the field.
I have mentioned this more than once, but a fictional character I idolise is Alan Shore the attorney. He is just so persuasive, so articulate, so powerful with his words that when he delivers his closing speeches, I’d sit in awe.
Having said all of this, I realise that I have to assume agency of my life and as such, I need to actively find ways to acquire the elusive silver tongue. Verbal fluency doesn’t just manifest out of thin air. It falls on me to address and remedy the situation. Take a speech class. Enrol in a public speaking conversation. See a speech therapist. Whatever it takes.
A day will come when my tongue can wrap around the most challenging of syllables. When I can form coherent sentences with no noticeable pause. When I can express my thoughts out loud without using a filler every three seconds.
That day will come but until it does, she is still just a pretty girl.
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Day 7/30: List 10 people who have influenced you and describe how
- My parents. They taught me hard work, dedication, sacrifice and resilience. And love.
- A girl I used to go out with (she insists we didn’t date so “go out” must have to do). She showed me the importance and the thrill of deep conversations. Being able to share your desires, your hopes and most of all your fears can be so, so fulfilling.
- Machiavelli. His view on “fortuna” (fortune) is fascinating. To him, we can’t dictate fortune because by definition it can’t be dictated. Like a river, it can’t be stop. We, however, can try and direct the flow of the river, to steer it in the direction favourable to us. The wheel of fortune favours the bold. One must be ready to react to any circumstances thrown at them.
- Augustus. The triumphant third of the second triumvirate. He taught me to be humble and let my work speak for myself. One needs no formal title to wield exceptional clout.
- BurNing. The Emperor has influenced the way I approach Dota. Efficiency, stability, reliability combined into one person. Not to mention, his passion for the game is inspiring.
- Karl Marx. His perspective on labour is intriguing. To Marx, labour is the venue where we can express our most human need – to create. We are most in touch with our nature when we work. Man without labour is not himself. I think that’s pretty good philosophy, especially in modern times like this.
- Lee Kwan Yew. He showed me how determination and integrity can change the course of a nation and forge history. He and his team accomplished so much with so little. Fiercely patriotic, he dedicated his life to the cause he believed in.
- Franklin Veaux. A popular Quora writer, his answers have taught me a lot on insecurity, emotional maturity and establishing an authentic personal connection. He effectively changed how I view relationships, and for the better.
- Marcus Aurelius. “Meditations” deserves to be taught in each and every single school curriculum. It is nothing short of a timeless treasure. The philosophy is simple AND easy to digest while remaining incredibly applicable to real life. I have become a more mature person after reading Aurelius’ thoughts.
- Tupac. He changed the way I see rap. Plus his radical feminism (best displayed in the hit “Keep ya head up”) is just refreshing.
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Day 8/30: What is your favourite part of the body and why?
At the risk of sounding unbelievably clichéd, it has to be the eyes.
Those are dubbed “window to the soul” for a reason.
Eyes can tell you so much about the person.
Sustained eye contact means they are confident and willing to back up their opinion while shifty eyes are usually hiding something.
Squinting eyes indicate a person is deeply lost in their own thoughts and imagination. It is better not to wake them up. No, really. Disturb me when I am deliberating and I’ll strangle you with my hands.
If a person is full of life and vitality, their eyes show. The sclera has no red lines and the cornea is as clear as the sky in summer. You can tell that the person has taken care of themselves.
What’s more, eyes can also do a lot.
With one hard look, eyes can pierce through a person’s mental barrier and probe for their thoughts. Yes, eyes can be that powerful.
Opening your eyes, I mean really opening them can easily disarm the other person.
Inquisitive eyes will quickly search through the surroundings to identify points of interest. Some people can “read” the entire room in a matter of seconds, during which their gaze is intense.
And the best part is, you can speak with your eyes.
Raising one eyebrow while staying silent is universally accepted as a sign of questioning or disapproval. On the other hand, a soft glare is charming and in some gifted individuals, hypnotising.
When the name of someone you care about is mentioned, your eyes light up with glee. It’s like the sun has decided to focus all the light it is radiating onto your eyes. Blatantly obvious. Eyes can be such treacherous traitors.
When we converse with someone we are attracted to, our pupils dilate. Our gaze becomes more tender, more longing, more passionate. And since we can’t control our pupils, it is our subconscious that does the work. It is as if we were inviting the other person to come closer and have a better glimpse of our soul. Granted, I look at steaks and gelato the same way but you get the idea.
Dryly speaking, eyes are the most effective means of non-verbal communication.
Poetically put, eyes can say words lips never could.
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Day 9/30: What are 5 traits you have that are simultaneously strengths and weaknesses?
- I am a cynic. I have a worldview an optimist deems deeply pessimistic. I prefer the term “realist.” I am deeply suspicious of good things because to me, good things only last until they don’t. I believe the world is driven primarily by self-interest and altruism is ephemeral. And I prepare my reaction accordingly. The good thing is, there are only two scenarios: either I am correct or I am pleasantly surprised. These days, the latter happens more often than the former. The bad thing is I am probably missing out a lot on life’s beauty. The price for being a cynic I guess.
- I pursue excellence. Relentlessly. I believe it is a crime not to live to the best of my potential. I don’t allow myself to be ordinary. In fact, mediocrity terrifies me. So I set lofty bars to myself and I strive to achieve them. The good thing about it is well, I have achieved a lot with this mindset. Some of my proudest accomplishments could not have been realised had I not dreamt for the sun. I’ve done well for myself and for others. The bad thing is, this continuous pursuit of excellence puts me in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction. It is almost always never good enough.
- I tend to overthink. I have this habit of exploring all possible outcomes of an event, and I do mean all. Crunching hypothetical scenarios is what I do. Contingency upon contingency. Every eventuality must be accounted for, every variable considered. This has done very well in making me prepared. Entertaining the possibilities, however, is exhausting and mentally straining.
- I know myself well. I know who I am and what I want. I know what I am good at and what I am terrible at. I can pause and interrogate myself on what’s going right and what’s going wrong. This self-knowledge has served me quite well so far, in professional and personal capacities. Nonetheless, self-awareness requires constant vigilance and it is at times tiring.
- Sometimes I care too damn much.
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Day 10/30: Sit down and write for 15 minutes. Post it here without editing.
Alright here goes:
So I got my first rejection today. My grant application was unsuccessful. They didn’t specify the reason, which is the norm. Understandably, I feel bad about it. I mean, other folks and I spent hours on this application and we were going to do some real good with the money. Alas, that’s a shame.
But I also understand that you can’t win them all. At some point in time, one of my applications will be rejected. It is an inevitability. So I might as well go through it this early on. Gotta have a taste of setback, you know. I have been rejected for quite a few times in other capacities already but still, this leaves a faint sting.
What is important, in my opinion, is not letting this one minor hiccup affect the big picture.
I believe I micro failed but macro won. Why? Because I can learn lessons that will prove valuable in the long run. I will need to do a close review of what I submitted, to ascertain whether I have given it my very best and if not, what I can do to improve. This will contribute to future successes and there will be a time when I look back and say, it’s thanks to this rejected application that I have succeeded in this one. Also, there will be many more rejection emails, and I will have to get used to it. I will have done my very best and still not succeeded but that’s okay. After all, it’s part of life.
I will not allow a small hitch to hinder my way forward. The only thing it will do is strengthen my resolve to get better.
All I can do now is bear this mildly unpleasant feeling, trudge ahead and try harder next time. For the best is yet to become.
I still have 2 minutes 30 seconds so I’ll add a small bit: I spoke briefly in front of a crowd last night for the first time in God knows how long and as expected, I mucked up a bit. But that’s alright. Next time, I’ll definitely be better.
Adios.
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Day 11/30: Outside the window
Outside the window, the view is expansive. It is grey all the way to the horizon, fairly representative of how the day has been. Sunlight pokes the occasional hole in the thick layers of cloud, a futile effort to brighten the scene.
Down the window, however, is something else. For hell has broken loose. The street is jam-packed with people who, from up here, look like factory-made figurines.
The embattled mother trying to get her two kids home safely.
The fatigued office worker heading for some beers because it’s Friday.
The worn-out veteran on an equally worn-out bike, ferrying household goods to make a living.
People are going to different places, but they have one thing in common: they wouldn’t be out on the street at this hour if they didn’t have to. They are stuck, strangers sharing the same fate, likely every day of the work week. Life is strange.
Then once in a few minutes, you’ve got a proud city dweller running a red light with the utmost nonchalance. This sort of behaviour makes me wonder how blatantly we often disregard our safety (and other’s) for fleeting convenience. Then I am not very sure we should label ourselves as an intelligent species anymore. I mean, what’s the rest of my life worth when I can save 10 seconds right?
It is a sweltering cauldron of noise, sweat and exhaust fumes.
So, outside the window was a juxtaposition of two worlds. The upper half is one of serenity, tranquillity and calm. The lower half is one of haste, disarray and chaos, disarray.
Pretty accurate portrayal of life, I’d say.
P.S: I started drafting this on my head at 6PM hence the description.
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Day 12/30: Smell the moment
I am at the usual flower-cum-coffee shop. The place hosts a well-blended harmony of fragrances. Most dominant is the crisp lemongrass, followed a faint hint of ceramics. Newly cut flowers still give off that earthy odour, neatly wrapped in that of several other herbs. Even though it is rather inconspicuous, I am fairly certain I can smell a rose somewhere.
I settle for the usual spot, which catches a dusty scent of woodwork. A couple has just walked in. The gal is sharply dressed with a pleasant swirl of perfume. Being an uncultured pleb, I can never tell which brand is which. The guy, in tremendously stark contrast, smells as if he just got out of a BBQ party: smokey, sweaty and altogether unappetising.
My coffee has just arrived. I can already feel the warm bitterness gushing up my nostrils. The aroma never fails to electrify. It comes with a whiff of the decadent condensed milk. Reminds me of childhood days when I woke up early and went to the nearby coffee shop with grandpa. He’d infallibly buy me this drink, emphasising to the waiter that the milk was to exceed the coffee. Very seldom would he let me take my coffee black, “the adult way.” Those days felt special. Now I have given up condensed milk, but once in a long while I still order it. For old times’ sake I guess.
I pull out my glorified working kit. Ah, I have missed this, the fleeting smell of fresh ink imprinted on paper before it dries. I have favoured the keyboard for so long it feels invigorating to go old school on occasion. I am working on a new piece. Several pieces in fact. The ink is flowing. This is good. A change of scenery truly does wonders.
I hold the cup close to my nose. Hoping to catch every scent in the room, I draw in a long breath.
The moment smells like peace.
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Day 13/30: Exaggerate something ordinary
The local supermarket on Sunday evening does not resemble a battlefield.
It is a battlefield.
Throngs of people, upon entering the arena, choose their weapon of choice. Some opt for high-capacity trolleys, while others pick up mobile baskets. Of all sizes and ages, they have come to battle the old foe: the desire to buy anything that’s on discount.
Not far from the entrance, the result is already clear: consumerism 1 – consumer 0. Today, there is a massive sale of tupperware, creating a sudden urge to buy some plastic containers to our combatants. A middle-aged woman is searching, with fanatical frenzy I might add, the perfect lunch container for her son. And that is no easy feat. She holds every container up close, trying to detect imperfections and discarding several strong contenders. It either does not have the right look or the right price. Nothing seems to befit the child emperor. After exasperating scrutiny, the empress dowager picks up the very first bottle she threw away. Like I said, consumerism 1 – consumer 0.
Up in the dairy theatre, the tide has definitely not turned. A freckled teen is having a vehement debate with her frustrated-looking father on which milk to bring home. “My dear sweetest child, but aren’t they just the same?” “You don’t get it Dad. This one here is full cream without sugar, this one is less sweetened and this one is sweetened. You know nothing. Not the milk I like or how I am failing badly in school.” At this point, the poor bloke just throws his hands in the air and tells his beloved daughter to get whatever her heart desires, for he has resigned to simply swiping the card.
But of course, just like much of the action of World War Two took place in Europe, true carnage at the local supermarket can only be found at the fresh produce section. If I can be as daring as to modify the adage, here, a woman’s trash is not necessarily another woman’s treasure. More than likely it’s still trash. I can spot numerous bananas that have sustained minor bruises from being picked up, briefly inspected and thrown down by the buyers with poignant nonchalance. Nearby, two lovely ladies are engaged in a civilised argument on to whom the last bunch of watercress should belong. Both have a claim on ownership and it is such a shame that there is no capable umpire to settle the situation. The supermarket staff has long abandoned their post, fearing at the end of the shift, they would be listed in the inventory as collateral damage.
Having marvelled at the bloodshed that is our society’s favourite pastime, I quickly pick up a discounted water bottle, some milk and head for the register. Otherwise, madness will ensue.
War truly never changes.
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Day 14/30: Conversation over dinner
The sky was grumbling rather loudly. Car’s windshields were getting blurry. Moms were getting laundry inside.
They walked into the restaurant. She was giggling at his joke. Ah, how he had fallen for those glistening eyes. They’d shine even in the darkest of days.
Today was one of those days.
He’d been laid off earlier in the afternoon. The boss called him into the office, informed him the company was looking to cut its losses and told him to pack up his things. Just like that, he was without a job. Rent was due three days ago. He didn’t have the heart to tell her yet. She got a promotion after an outstanding project. He wasn’t one to ruin the mood.
So he continued to make jokes, telling her about how an apple seed saved his life and how he pulled an all-nighter and almost died. She continued to laugh and her eyes continued to glitter.
Then her laughter stood still.
“What’s wrong, darling?”
“You’ve not been completely honest with me. There is a tinge of sadness in your voice. What is it?”
One inquisitive look and she saw right through his defence. Dang it, he has got to stop getting lost in those piercing eyes.
He fessed up.
“Okay. What you are going to do now?”
That’s probably why he fell for her. Always pragmatic. Always looking forward. Always searching for a solution.
“I don’t know, darling. My heart is just too heavy to deal with this.”
“Then don’t. You don’t have to deal with this today. Let’s get some ice cream. We’ll deal with it tomorrow, together.”
That’s definitely why he fell head over heels for her. Always comforting. Always tender. Always kind.
“Let’s go,” she nudged. “Have I told you about that time when I fell from a tree and broke my grandfather’s leg?”
With that, they walked out.
And he was the one who giggled.
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Day 15/30: Six word stories
People are words. You are poetry.
Night is cold. No tea left.
Love’s Russian Roulette. With 6 bullets.
Had dinner, then stayed for breakfast.
Never meant to be. Just happened.
“But Alice, this is not Wonderland.”
All I ask is one dance.
I just keep finding lost time.
“Had plans for dinner?” “Not anymore.”
But she had her own world.
A-. Asian parents. Not good enough.
“But I thought the brakes worked.”
Bought birthday cake. Ate it all.
“It’s me Grandma.” “Who are you?”
Bad news hit when whiskey hadn’t.
“Mr President, the investors are waiting.”
Khruschev lost his temper. Cuba. 1962.
“Suicide hotline, please hold.” “I won’t.”
Drowning boy saved. First name Adolf.
Cancer’s cure locked in dropout’s mind.
Found the treasure. Lost his friends.
Coffee & Monster. I can see noises.
Comedy. 10 percent seats filled. Tragedy.
Can’t make Faustian bargain. No soul.
“I almost called Mom on my birthday.”
A jump scare. A faint heart.
Sarajevo, 1914. One shot. Millions dead.
Parallel lines. Intersecting lines. Asymptotic lines.
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Day 16/30: Into the light
Groaning with weariness, I open my eyes to the faint light and moving figures. Another day has begun.
I have been in this dark, cold cavern my entire life. My arms, legs and neck are strapped with metal chains; I can only look straight forward to a dimly lit, expansive wall. I call it a new day, yet I have no concept of time. Next to me are Bob and Billy. They are also firmly chained, unable to move or turn their heads.
A typical day in this cavern is simple. We wake up and discuss whatever that appears on the spacious canvas that is the wall. Well, they are all black in colour, but we distinguish them by their outlines. So far, we have seen numerous objects and named them in unanimous agreement. The tall and bulky object is a tree, with a trunk and many leaves. It has been there since the beginning and has never moved an inch. The small animals with even smaller wings are bees. They often travel in groups of three or four. In contrast, the massive mammal with horns is a buffalo. It is usually alone and moves rather slowly.
Looking at the objects is fun. We have managed to name almost all of them that rarely do we see something we can’t recognise. Sometimes, it can be confusing and that’s when Bob and Billy bicker. There was one time Bob insisted he saw a rock while Billy maintained that it was a large human head. Silly chaps. It was the moon.
After a couple of rounds, I hear a snap. I shiver for a moment, thinking that it was my neck that broke. But it was the chain that cracked. Slowly, I turned my head sideways. Then my arms rise up, followed by my legs. I stand up in Bob and Billy’s utter amazement.
With my limbs still feeling the movement, I turn complete around to the opposite of the wall. There, I spot some sort of light. I keep walking toward it, curious to see where it leads. It is not long before I find myself going in the upward direction.
Then just as suddenly as the chains snapped, light fills every corner of my eyes.
I go blind for a moment.
Covering my face with one hand, I trudge forward and find myself at the mouth of a tunnel. I step out into the open and am once again dazed by the intense light.
Having pinched myself to make sure my mind is not playing tricks, I start wandering around. Everything is so coloured that I am shocked into disbelief. The tree – I am pretty sure it is the tree – has a brownish and vividly rough bark. The bees are actually yellow and they travel in swarms. The buffalo looks rather demonic with its menacing eyes.
It is like the world has upended. I could not believe my own eyes. Meanwhile, a man approaches from the left and asked in a puzzled tone: “What cha doin’ out here?”
“I am sorry sir, but is that a tree?” I point to the tall and bulky object.
“’course it is, son. Are ye alright?”
“I am. How come the tree is not all black and why does its surface look so detailed?”
“’cause it’s a real tree ya dummy. Only shadows are all black.”
“Shadows? What are shadows?”
“Come closer and take a look for yerself.”
As I approach the tree with understandable suspicion, my world shatters.
There, on the ground, next to it, is the black, non-detailed object that resembles a tree I saw in the cave.
“Ya see, the tree casts a shadow thanks to the sunlight.” The man chimes in.
A sense of disorientation overwhelms me.
I didn’t see objects back in the cave. I saw their shadows. What I believed to be the tree, the bees and the buffalo were not the actually tree, bees or buffalo. Everything I have come to know is a fabrication. A reflection. A lie.
I didn’t know shit.
Bewildered on the brink of hysteria, I retreat back to the tunnel and rush down to the cave. Adjusting to the now foreign darkness, I stumble a few times before reaching the bottom. Bob and Billy are squabbling about whether the shadow is a tiger or a leopard. I scream at the tops of my lungs:
“They are not real.”
Bob and Billy stop and turn towards me. They must think I have gone mad.
“These are not real things. They are mere shadows. Someone has been deceiving us, parading real objects on the back of some light so that their shadows are cast onto this wall. They are not real. They are outlines. Projections. Silhouettes. Come with me, I will take you to see the real world.”
Now Bob and Billy are convinced beyond doubt that I have, in fact, gone mad.
Bob is the first to speak.
“What on earth are you babbling about? This is as real as everything else. Where are you trying to take us? What do you want?”
“Yeah. You sound like the one who’s trying to deceive us. Go away. If you free us, we will choke you to death.” Billy adds.
Their eyes tell me they are being serious, but I am not one to give up on my good friends. So I start loosening the chains around Bob’s neck.
He tries to bite me.
“What the hell are you doing? Get away from me! Leave. Don’t come back.” He hisses while Billy is screaming something similar.
I give up. An abject despair sweeps through me.
I have tried to help them see the same light I see, yet they are more comfortable with darkness.
Taking a good look at the wall for one last time, I turn away from the expansive, dimly lit cave. I can almost hear Bob and Billy’s bickering again.
Looks like I will wander the real world on my own.
Into the light feels bittersweet.
Disclaimer: This story expands on the original idea of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. Yep, that’s philosophy for ya.
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Day 17/30: Ego and pride
Alright, let’s start with some definitions.
Ego is a person’s sense of self-esteem derived from their identity. It relates to who they are.
Pride is a person’s sense of satisfaction derived from their achievements. It relates to what they have accomplished.
There are overlaps, there are also distinctions.
Ego and pride both concern the self, as in how a person sees and regards themselves.
However, pride is more grounded in rationality. More specifically, a person takes pride in their deeds. The land they have conquered. The mountains they have climbed. The dragons they have slain. There is often a realistic basis for their satisfaction. In other words, you cannot feel pleasure towards something you have not done.
Pride is often considered a positive emotion. It signifies a healthy respect toward oneself. I have, in 3 months, finished a puzzle that says “2-4 years”, I can feel pretty good about myself. My actions and choices make me proud. There is a content sense of attachment. As St. Augustine so succinctly put, pride is “the love of one’s own excellence.”
On the other hand, ego is often blown way out of proportion, because it is less grounded in reality. It is more or less entirely in our heads. Some people possess egos that defy logic. They think highly of themselves despite the lack of evidence to back that up.
This is the root of the problem: an ego does not need to be fed with real achievements to get bigger. I don’t need to be excellent to have a huge ego. I can see myself as the biggest man in the room while standing less than 1.7m.
It is rather difficult to take pride away from a person, because the basis is sound. If we want the person to doubt themselves, we have to undo or erase their achievements. Chip away at their accomplishments. Slowly show them that they have attained nothing. In stark contrast, attacking a person’s inflated ego is much easier, for a fragile ego does not differ much from a bull’s eye. One needs only sow the smallest seed of doubt and let their instinct turn against themselves. Sometimes, a casual backhanded compliment is enough to rupture a person’s self-esteem.
As has been shown, pride is often a positive emotion while ego tends to sit at the other end of the spectrum. And as far as the definitions of these concepts are outlined above, I think it is a reasonable distinction. What I have done versus what I think I am.
I have elected not to discuss the differences between pride and vanity and/or hubris as well as those between egoism and egotism. These require time and energy, neither of which I can spare at the moment to do them justice. The day has been long.
A later date, perhaps.
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Day 18/30: My other life
The date is November 8, 2008.
The airport is swarmed with people.
Although the sun has almost set, the heat remains intense.
I am about to board a plane to study in Singapore. A new life is waiting ahead.
In that final moment, I change my mind and turn away from the customs queue.
I go back to school the next day, to everyone’s surprise.
High school it is.
Academically speaking, I go on to do well, although my performance dips slightly in the natural sciences. I could never sustain the interest, I guess. On the other hand, subjects that require intensive memorisation will still be a walk in the park for me, largely thanks to my superior memory.
The only downside would probably be the fact that because my then-girlfriend will have gone to Singapore, we would have to break up, either by choice or by immaturity. But on the whole, life continues to be easy. Dad brings home the bread. Mom cooks and does laundry. I breeze through the studies. Much of my free time is spent playing Dota and moderating a Dota forum. My English progresses nowhere because I don’t see the need to improve. Consistent monotony is the order of the day.
At around the end of Grade 11, a mild sense of urgency rises. Time to prepare for the dreaded university entrance exam. While my peers scramble to tuition classes, I keep on playing Dota and watching TV shows. Granted I have to pay extra attention to my studies, but it’s a minor bump. I don’t sweat the small stuff.
When the time comes to pick a university major, I go with either banking or accounting. Neither is my preferred choice, but the truth is, I am not sure what I prefer. I am just good at maths and logic. Many of my peers are going for these majors, which does make sense. I then turn on Beast Mode for three months of revision, ace the exam and go off to uni.
Pretty much the same thing repeats at university. Classes are easy enough, not a walk in the path but nothing to fuss about. Bored and uncurious, I go to lectures where I watch my brethren squabble over trivial matters. I try to engage in extra-curricular activities, but no clubs cater to my esoteric interests. So Dota 2 it is. I date around a little bit, but nobody seems good enough.
Then I graduate. Phew, took me four years but nothing too problematic. Joining the workforce, I manage to secure a job within a short period of idleness. Again, nothing too fancy, but more than enough to feed myself. I will be living with my parents, which means I won’t pay rent or much of the food. Promotion prospects are not that amazing but job security certainly is. I still get to play a couple of Dota 2 games a day, sometimes even during the working hours.
A few years into it, I am bored and switch job in a similar position. I mean, I am not moving up any time soon but I ain’t moving out any time soon either. I need to have some sort of basic proficiency in English, so I proceed to pick it up in a couple of months. I feel satisfied with myself, although there is something inside that keeps bugging me. Some sort of void perhaps. As I can’t put my thumb on it, I learn to brush it aside and keep on living.
A couple more years, I meet someone. She’s not the most amazing girl in the world. I mean, I don’t get all butterflies-swarming-in-my-stomach whenever I see her, but I see her alright. She is, well, acceptable. After sometime dating, we get married. As the honeymoon passes, she does the housework, I occasionally help with the dishes. Now I see no reason to switch jobs, especially with a kid coming along. Gotta be a family man yo.
Just like that, life goes on.
When I have a few precious minutes to spare, my thoughts intermittently wander to where it all started. A warm afternoon in 2008, at the airport, in front of the customs queue.
How I would have walked the easier path.
How I would have achieved mediocrity.
How I would have lived my other life had I not boarded the plane.
Then I thank my lucky stars that I did.
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Day 19/30: Losing your innocence
It was a chilly winter night in Rome, circa 2015.
We – a close friend and I – had been walking around the city all day. It’d been fun. I had always wanted to visit Rome, and there was hardly a better way to explore the Eternal City than doing it on foot with a good friend. The Roman Forums. The Colosseo. The Pantheon. We marvelled at the sheer magnificence of Rome’s history.
Come dinnertime, we found ourselves around Piazza Navona and were simply famished. We wandered into a restaurant but were informed none in the area would open for another 15 minutes. As our stomachs were demonstrating a whale’s mating call, we headed into a chips stall. The young lad quickly made us some crispy chips with tartar sauce.
We settled down on the front steps of a closed building nearby. It felt really good to sit down and take a rest. The chips, I can tell you, were made from heaven. The warmth lit up my heart and filled my belly. Some otherworldly chips that guy cooked up.
It was the fourth or fifth chip when an epiphany dawned upon me.
It would be the last time we did this. No, not travelling, but travelling with gullibility. After this short trip, both of us would return to our normal lives, with normal preoccupations and normal obligations. We would resume our roles in society, trying to transition into functioning adults. As such, innocence would be among the first things we’d give up. No more roaming the earth with absolute carefreeness. Life is serious and demanding now. The next time we meet, it’d be under unfathomably different circumstances. We will have adopted wildly different sets of beliefs. We will have almost become different persons altogether.
One thing was for sure: this moment could never, ever be recreated.
The realisation was so profound it boggled the mind. I almost had tears in my eyes. It was the pain of growing up. Innocence was a paradise forever lost and I was left grieving. I took a quick look at everything. The night scene that’s beginning to come to life. Residents strolling around, enjoying the weather. This friend who has been with me through thick and thin. The dusty front steps of this building. The warm paper cone I am holding in my hands. Tried to remember the moment best as I could. The moment my innocence was forfeited.
All of the sudden, the chips didn’t taste heavenly at all.
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Day 20/30: Not commonly encountered
There are three words we rarely see in daily usage, but I think are beautiful:
1. Eudaimonia
Originating from Greek, eudaimonia is defined as “The good composed of all goods; an ability which suffices for living well; perfection in respect of virtue; resources sufficient for a living creature” (from The Definitions, a dictionary of Greek philosophical terms). In shorter forms, eudaimonia denotes the supreme state of human flourishing, the life to which we should all aspire.
Of course, each and every single one of us year for a desirable life, but that is not quite a helpful realisation because desirable is objective. Despite their differences, ancient Greek schools of philosophy concur that eudemonia is closely connected to the idea of arête (virtue, excellence, or quality of character). More specifically, to achieve a life well-lived, one must recognise and exercise virtue in accordance with reason. Eudaimonia is obtained through one’s constant development of their highest capabilities, none of which is other than the virtue of rationality. If we consistently practice reason in our daily lives, our actions will yield favourable results and our ethics will be safeguarded. Step by step, we make our life into a eudaimon one.
I like the concept of eudaimonia because it puts forward the idea that the highest good of human flourishing depends primarily on one’s own exercise of virtue and not on external factors. It reminds me that fulfilment often comes from within. Proper introspection is the key to living well. One can indulge in worldly pleasures but these must lie within the confines of reason. A very measured and reasonable concept indeed.
2. Sausade
Originating from Portuguese, sausade signifies the state of intense nostalgia or profound melancholy a person harbours as they yearn for something or someone that’s absent. In many cases, it carries the implication that the object of longing might never return.
I like how sausade takes “missing” to another level. I am not just missing you. I am longing for you so much my bones ache whenever the wind whispers your name. The melody of one song can trigger the entire chain of memories. The places we went. The things we talked about. The silence we so comfortably shared. The absence that occupies me now is sorely felt. “Missing” doesn’t quite have the tone and sausade brings it home. Note that it is not exactly an emotion, but rather an emotional state. A deep longing for the good old days. The love that remains. The recollection of past experiences. The wishful craving for simpler times.
All of that nostalgia and melancholy packed into three syllables. Purely amazing.
3. Sonder
I am just going to quote the entire definition:
“The realisation that each random passer-by is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.”
Wow. Just wow.
One of the most poetic definitions I have ever come across.
So much packed into a single word.
Sonder speaks close to my heart because I have experienced this realisation many more than once. Often when I find myself at a busy train station or a crowded coffee shop, I often wonder what is going through the minds of other people right here right at this moment. They all have their own lives, fight their own battles, surrounded by family and friends. What we share is only one fleeting moment, as we are waiting for the same train or ordering the same cappuccino. Just as that lady in front of me will be nothing more than an extra in my life’s movie, I will be nothing more than a walk-on in that of the kid behind me. The three of us might have nothing in common other than the fact that we are queuing for coffee this morning. After this, we are off to our separate ways.
An instance of sonder is more than often overwhelming and leaves me speechless.
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Day 21/30: Muse
You are my muse.
Yes, you, you tantalising inspiration.
You drive me into madness. I buried the inner poet a long time ago. Yet seconds after meeting you, he crawled out and heaved himself up from the pit. I suppose he wanted to tell you how your eyes smile whenever I look at them. How you never fail to bring with you an air of dignified elegance. How your voice melts the toughest of hearts.
If I dare be succinct, you are devastatingly beautiful. You are grace incarnate. You are ineffable.
Next to you, everything else seems so petty. So frail. So insignificant. You are to me what Hercules is to Prometheus. You free me from life’s repetitive and agonising trivialities.
Whenever I think about you, I find myself walking the garden of Hera. I feel invincible. I am immersed in an endless reservoir of enchanting rapture. You come to my mind so frequently that I’ve left the gates open. Yet each visit is transitory: you never stay long enough.
You have no idea what I would give to wonder under the glistening light of your soul. Yet there you are. Always close but out of reach. Always an inch away. The boulder always rolls down the hill no matter how much I try.
But I have resolved to trudge forward. When the night stays silent and the moon howls, I write about my passion for you and the ensuing torment. I want to be so crafty with words that Sappho envies me for my pain.
So excuse me, while I immortalise you in these verses.
For the door to your heart is locked.
And with this pen, I shall forge the key.
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Day 22/30: Equanimity
In early September, I had to catch a flight back to Hanoi after taking some time off to be with my family. The flight was at night and I was to come into work the next day.
I had already been tired. I mean, that last week was an endless feast. I gorged on meal after meal until I couldn’t take it anymore. Then I had some dessert. Succinctly put, I was not the same person by the time I boarded this plane.
To my great dismay, I was seated across the aisle with a mother who was cradling her infant.
I was barely finished fastening my seat belt when the screaming started.
I recalled the wise words of Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Something along the line of “When force of circumstance upsets your equanimity, lose no time in recovering your self-control, and do not remain out of tune longer than you can help.”
This was the perfect setting to apply this famed principle of stoicism.
A quick analysis yielded two options. Either I let the wailing get on my nerves, or I don’t. One thing was for certain: I could not stop the baby from screaming. Even his mother couldn’t. Crying is a baby’s instinct.
It was in this moment that I understood I didn’t have the means to put an end to my discomfort. I could only react to it by not allowing it to bother me.
This line of reasoning worked like a charm. I sat there for a solid thirty minutes completely untroubled by the noise. It wasn’t a ‘fake’ defensive mechanism either. I had full comprehension of the situation and decided that gaining control of my thoughts and emotions could trump the external circumstance. The baby’s crying truly did not disturb my state of mind.
I could have been annoyed and angered, but I was not.
I just sat in my seat, detached from the perceived source of distress.
I didn’t even have to put on my headphones.
The screaming was going straight into my ears, but I registered neither emotions nor actions.
The experience was enlightening and momentous. Peace can only be taken from me if I let it.
Stoicism is not just a school of philosophy. It is really a way of life.
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Day 23/30: Modernity
I am a student of modern history. And of all the horrific episodes I have studied, none can hope to compare to the Holocaust. The genocide claimed the lives of six million Jews and seventeen million victims in total.
The most terrifying aspect of the Holocaust was not even its scale, but its method of operation. People were systematically murdered on an industrial level.
In case the previous sentence has not sunk in, allow me to paint a picture for you.
Around 700 Jews arrived at Auschwitz by cattle vans. They were then told to strip off their clothes and have showers to disinfect themselves from diseases. The guards then shoved them in a large chamber, their hands raised so that more people could fit. Right after the doors were closed, Zyklon B gas was pumped in. Minutes later, the screaming quieted down. There were no survivors.
The guards then dragged the corpses out to be burnt or buried. The chamber was empty quickly to be ready for a new batch. At its peak, around 6,000 people were murdered with legal gas at Auschwitz every day.
If that doesn’t shock you, I don’t think anything will.
If it does, I have bad news.
Modernity might have been the catalyst for the Holocaust.
Convention would dictate that we claim the Holocaust was a step back from progress, a fall to momentary barbarism, a counterexample to modern morality. But there is a real possibility that conditions of the modern society played a role in arguably the worst genocide of human history.
I shall demonstrate this point with bureaucracy, a distinctly modern phenomenon.
Simply said, the scale and brutality of the Holocaust would have been impossible in the absence of a functioning bureaucracy. The state apparatus was required to achieve the level of efficiency and obedience necessary to facilitate the mass murder in the number of millions. The official authorisation of violence trickled down and wielded all-powerful government mechanisms to create the infrastructure. Transport system, concentration camps, research on legal gas, all happened under the watch of the state. To systematise killing onto an industrial level demanded obedience and compliance from the contributors. Bureaucracy provided just that.
What’s more, bureaucracy made the Holocaust possible by division of labour. Bureaucratic hierarchy means subordinates carried out tasks without questioning their superiors. This division of labour dissociated the individuals from each other and from the final outcome. The first part of the process need have no awareness of what the second part does. There is a certain distance between the men who drove the cattle vans and the mass graves where corpses were buried. Moral knowledge was substituted by technical knowledge. The individual contributor was concerned solely with the specific task to which they were assigned.
The last notable point is that bureaucracy facilitated the Holocaust by dehumanising the process. To bureaucrats, the project was represented in numbers and not people. The language removed any human element. Jews being transported became “cargo”, corpses became “dead bugs”, mass murder became “sessions.” Human suffering disappeared as the process became highly routinised and mechanised. Bureaucracy made it easier to consider the victim an “other” – something different than a member of the human species.
As such, it might be contended that bureaucracy, a product of modernity, was a factor in the Holocaust. And a major one at that I might add.
The Holocaust was not a backward step to savagery.
It happened because modernity provided the necessary conditions for it to happen.
Now, let THAT sink in for a moment.
Disclaimer: this piece heavily revolves around Zygmunt Bauman’s acclaimed “Modernity and the Holocaust.” Highly, highly recommended.
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Day 24/30: Help
“Wow your English is good. Teach me sometime?”
I have been on the receiving end of this line (and its variants) so many times over the years. Each time, I’d give a reply something along the line of
“Sure. Let me know when you’re free over text or email, I will try to set something up.”
Over the years, the people who actually got back to me I can count ‘em on one hand. The others keep saying they need my help the next time we meet but nothing happens. No kidding. It’s like people expected me to actually reach out to help them.
Hahaha. No.
If you want my help, you’ve gotta do the reaching. I thought that was common sense, but I have been repeatedly mistaken. I have no idea where the “I want your help you come help me now” mentality came from, but I have no time for that BS. I am occasionally altruistic, but even on the best day my goodwill does not go that far. I am sometimes a nice person, but I guard my time very very strictly.
And nothing pisses me off quite like other folks who think they are entitled to my time without putting in the effort. It’s time, something I will never get back. So excuse me if I am awfully selective in how to spend it. This is where egoism has its use: not letting my instinct to do good walk over myself. I do what’s best in my interest. And my interest surely does not lie with spending time with someone who has not earned it. I’d rather do nothing than teach you if you take no initiative.
I want to see commitment. I want to see you are serious about getting my help. I want you to take the first step because there is no way on this Earth I will.
Sorry not sorry.
P.S: This of course does not apply when a large sum of dollars is involved. Money talks, yo.
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Day 25/30: Exquisite
I feel the need to confess upfront that I have a particular fondness for the word “exquisite.”
There just isn’t any word quite like it.
First, “exquisite” is phonetically satisfying. You start off softly, then pick up the tone and finish with a strong, crisp “t.” It rolls off the tongue nicely. You sound sophisticated enough to impress people but not too pompous as to put them off. Not to mention, it has three syllables – the perfect length for an adjective in my very humble opinion.
Second, it is etymologically pleasing. Its Latin roots are “ex” (out) and “quaerere” (seek), which together make up exquisite (sought out). The word signifies a quality such that the object is sought after, which piques curiosity while remaining vague. We can’t be quite sure what makes the object so desired, all we know is that it is desired. This passes the ball back to the other agent, tempting them to do something about it.
And most importantly, “exquisite” possesses fascinating meanings, the most common being “extremely beautiful and, typically, delicate.”
The Aurora Borealis last night was exquisite I stopped breathing for a second.
It is an exalted state of beauty added in an extra dose of elegance. Because there are girls whom “beautiful” does not do justice.
Into the second layer, “highly sensitive or discriminating”, things start to get juicy. The word no longer describes appearance, but ventures into the realm of taste and elevated aesthetics.
Since young, she has developed an exquisite taste in poetry. She treats poem like old friends, often losing the sense of time when conversing with them.
The element of grace and poise is introduced here.
The final definition of “exquisite” is “intensely felt”, which is, well, the core reason explaining my affection for the word. It is often used to describe agony.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned the doorknob and basked in exquisite pain.
Regardless of the meaning, “exquisite” connotes a sense of delicate intensity. Sort of oxymoronic I know, but that’s what makes it so appealing.
“Exquisite” is truly an exquisite word.
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Day 26/30: Drive
Amongst the many virtues one may possess, I place a great value on drive.
The determination and ambition to achieve something have an appeal few other human traits can match.
Drive signifies purpose. A driven person has (at least) a reason to pursue whatever they are pursuing. A sense of purpose shows they are certain of what they want and are convicted of their own vision. In this ever-changing-with-a-dazzling-speed life, knowing what you want and having a plan to attain it cannot be underestimated. Driven folks live for something that’s more often than not bigger than themselves. Actively working to give meaning to the inherently meaningless called life. They are driven to drive change, and that’s just attractive.
Drive shows grit. Someone who is driven is prepared to be faced with challenges, defeated and even ridiculed. But they already know the path they’ve chosen to walk isn’t made up of rose metals. They enjoy hardship, and some exceptional ones revel in it. Life may knock them down, but they always spring back up. They grit their teeth a little tighter and move on. Because deep down, they have an unshakable belief that they will cross the finish line, one way or another. It’s not a matter of if but when and how.
Interacting with driven people can be inspiring in the sense that you want to do something with your life. You want to take action because the other person is. And after some conversation, you realise they aren’t superhuman to be doing what they are doing. They just possess an incredible drive to move forward and realise their goal. It’s time I did too. I prefer the word “drive” to “ambition” or “motivation” because “drive” implies a will to vigorously implement. You are in the driving seat of your own life. You are the driver. Things are in your hands. Get ready, set and go.
Great feats are accomplished by men and women with lofty dreams and the accompanying tenacity to execute those dreams. I guess we all know this, but it is a point well worth reiterating.
I love, admire and respect people with an unwavering drive.
Drive is sexy, yo.
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Day 27/30: Mindset
I asked a girl out once.
Palms sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy, I was really losing myself. It was as if Armageddon would come to Earth if I couldn’t get her to come to dinner. My mind was made up: it was either her or nobody else.
Mustering the courage, I blurted out the words.
Things got blurry for a second.
She said no.
I almost choked. The ground felt shaky, as if it was going to crack any moment and swallow me whole. I wouldn’t have complained to be honest.
Looking back at the harrowing experience, I can partially understand my mental state then. I thought she was the only one in this world whom I could go out with and no one else would date me. That rationale certainly created the fear in me, as I was frightened of rejection. I was afraid of being left alone.
Further research and introspection show I was suffering from the scarcity mindset, which points to the idea that the resources are not enough out there for people to share.
A dangerous mentality, of which I have had firsthand experience.
I was constantly insecure, unsure of whether I was good enough to “get it” and if I failed, that’d trigger the end of the world. It was as though I had no other choice. The feeling was suffocating at times because I was pitting myself against imaginary others, fearing of losing out.
This line of thinking certainly affected the way I approach several things. When you believe stuff is scarce, you begin to become desperate. Your actions then reek of desperation. You refuse cooperation and if you do, you seek to take advantage of others to your own end. You compete for perceived limited resources, even if there are plenty of them available. Needless to say, things won’t end well for both you and the others. The price paid is often steep.
Mindset really affects reality. What happens inside our heads doesn’t stay there, but projects itself onto the external environment. It is our endogenous worldview that determines how we interact with the external circumstances.
The good news is, with one flip, we can alter our thinking.
Switch from the scarcity mindset to the abundance mindset.
The world holds sufficient resources for everyone to share. It’s got to.
It is this unflinching belief that leads us to see everything in a different light.
She didn’t want to have coffee? Fine, there’ll be others.
That college rejected your application? There are plenty more lying around.
HR didn’t hire you? Go out and look for another job opening.
This attitude prompts us to always try more, because we believe there are always more opportunities lying ahead, waiting to be grabbed. There is always another door and if there isn’t, well you just pick up the hammer and carve a new one.
This mentality is empowering as you are put in the driver’s seat. You are in charge of your destiny, but you are able to be flexible and adaptable. With that, you realise new angles, new possibilities, new paths. Life seems much more thrilling and much less confining.
Had I adopted this abundance mindset when I asked that girl out, I would have been much more relaxed and confident.
And maybe, just maybe, she would have said yes.
Hmm.
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Day 28/30: Increment
“Just one article a day, 15 minutes tops” I was getting exasperated.
“Hmmm, I don’t think I have time for that,” he groaned, “Can I just study like 2 hours a day for like two days a week?”
No. Nah. Nope.
It doesn’t work like that. Getting better at something doesn’t work like that.
The point is not to do it intensively for some time and then ignore it.
The point is to do it every single day.
Mastery is not achieved by taking big steps occasionally. Mastery is achieved by taking small steps consistently.
This principle is quite straightforward, yet it seems to be eluding many. The reason is quite simple.
Taking big steps feels good.
When we practice something for a comparatively long period, it gives us a boost in morale. We are satisfied with ourselves because we’ve made progress. Gratification is almost instant. Then after having felt good, we shelve it, until the next time. We pat ourselves on the back and forget it.
But it doesn’t help.
Your brain’s muscles aren’t flexed enough. You have effectively gained nothing but a small dose of dopamine.
In the end, it’s consistent and relentless practice that will give you a strong command over a subject. Why? Because it instills in your discipline.
I have been through this more than once. A couple of months ago, I set myself the goal of reading for at least 30 minutes a day for 30 days. Seemed reasonable enough. I mean, who can’t fort out half an hour a day to do an obviously beneficial activity?
By the end of day 7, I was miserable. I was in pain.
The thought of waking up every morning and read terrified me. There were days when I dreaded touching the books. I just didn’t have the time or the strength of mind.
Nevertheless, I kept at it.
By day 15 or so, things started to get better. I was getting familiar with the task. It stopped appearing daunting. There were still days when I wasn’t so inclined to read, but I picked up the materials all the same, because by then, it had become a habit I wasn’t going to quit.
As the 30th day concluded, I was a different person. I learned so much from reading as well as from keeping reading. I understood that it takes a great deal of willpower to do something every day, even though for a short amount of time. I hardly felt good at any point throughout the challenge, but the good I felt at the very end trumped pretty much every single other instance I could have felt.
So now, my plea to you is this: pick a small task. Tiny. Minute. Anything that requires almost no effort to do. Then do it every day for 30 days without quitting.
Read a newspaper article. Write 100 words. Listen to a short broadcast. It doesn’t really matter, just pick and execute.
If you want to achieve mastery over something, take small increments one at a time. Be consistent. Refuse to give up. Be ruthless.
Then and only then will magic happen.
You can thank me later. I accept cash and other forms of payment, just for your information.
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Day 29/30: Hesitate
Shrapnel was falling over my head. Wolves howled in the distant. The moon was nowhere to be found.
Lurking in the trees, I barely flinched. My eyes were glued on the prize.
Near the river, things appeared normal. The ghoul was having a good time farming up. Fattening himself. Not knowing the Reaper was looming over his shoulder for the next prey.
I was ready to pounce. One swift strike of my scythe was enough to send him back to the fountain. Blood was so close I could taste it.
Right as I was about to close in, he twitched as if his sixth sense was telling him something was off.
I froze for a second, suddenly unsure of whether it was the right call. It could be the trap for me. I could be the prey not the predator. The ambush could spell my doom.
In that one second, he vanished into the fog. The only thing left was the stench of rotten meat.
A teammate yelled: “Yo why didn’t you go for the kill? You could have stopped him from getting stronger. He’s getting out of control.”
Ten minutes later, the ghoul was out of control. We could only watch from afar as he obliterated our base with utter impunity. While we waited for the inevitability of his coming for us next, I thought about the moment near the river. Had doubt not gripped my feet, the ghoul would have been sent to meet his maker. It could have been us who took their base. Victory could have been ours.
Dota games aren’t the only thing I have lost because I balked at the last minute. Caught in the grip of uncertainty. Frozen while the window of opportunity closed in a fleeting second.
The cost of hesitating can be, and often is, astronomical.
So I have been trying to cast away that potentially devastating hesitation.
“I don’t know right from wrong all the time. But what I can’t be is indecisive.” – Francis Underwood.
Leave all doubts at the door.
Take a deep breath.
Then go for the kill.
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Day 30/30: Finale
That’s it, folks.
The end is no longer near.
The end is here.
The whole thing started out of nowhere (a friend of mine was doing a 100-day doodling challenge and we were commenting and this idea somehow made its way into my head), but the ball kept rolling and here we are.
It has been a crazy-ass ride, to say the least.
I did this 30-day writing challenge before, but that was much easier because I only had to sit down and write whatever that was on my mind. I also did not have to show it to the public. Pressure was much more intense this time, for I had to follow prompts and post it. My fans were watching and looking to devour my writing like nomads at an oasis.
I learned consistency. Or rather, I practised consistency. To do a daily task for one month without breaking the pattern is no easy feat. Even though I already have a few under my belt, this instalment of the 30-day challenge was as tough as the others. The temptation to skip a day was always there, looming in the dark, caressing me with its bony claws. I said “No” to it for no less than 10 times throughout the period. If I couldn’t keep the promise I made to myself, what good is my word to others? The discipline I built up over time was, is and will be valuable in other areas, that is for certain. And I also tried to be better at my craft. Infusing lessons with personal anecdotes. Telling less and showing more. Opening and finishing strong. I had 30 opportunities to get into the art and science of writing, and I am glad I took advantage of the majority of those.
What’s more, I am not going to pretend that some days were much harder than others. Some days, I got home at around half-past ten, which leaves me ninety minutes to write something coherent. So I gave the piece my brain’s last ounce of energy, whipped up something barely satisfactory and called it a day. Some pieces are close to 1000 words, a few others are about 200. Sometimes I can’t focus 100% on the piece and it is not my best work, but I have to be okay with that because circumstances have to be taken into account. I learned I can’t always give it my best, but that’s ok, as long as I give it something. I just have to take it and move on.
I was also greeted with a pleasant surprise. I discovered I could write about topics I never thought was possible. In the last 30 days, I have written about fears. I have written about philosophy. Hell, I have written about getting rejected by a girl and picking up the pieces of my shattered heart. Take Day 18 for instance. I don’t quite often rely on my imagination, but I let it run wild (with some logical guidance of course) and the result seemed okay. Or Day 21. I never believed I could write a fairly articulate piece on muse. But I did. And it turned out fine. Of course there were topics I wish I could have treated better but that’s okay. At least I treated those and that’s what matters.
What next? I am not sure. I really want to try that 1000-in-1 challenge where you write 1000 words in 1 hour. It is going to be insanely challenging, so I need to carve out some serious time for it. I am also quite interested in practicing my verbal communication, which I totally suck and also which I can’t afford to ignore.
If you have read this far, I commend you for your patience and thank you for your attention. I hope you could extract something from my writing and put it to use. Even better, I hope you see part of yourself in it. I believe it to be the ultimate function of writing – to be the mirror the audience can hold up. The highest compliment I can ever hope to receive is “Yo, I saw glimpses of myself in your writing. Thanks for that.”
I will curate the pieces and put them together into one post on my blog to make sure they aren’t lost and also to boost my blog’s traffic. Two birds with one stone, ayyy.
30 days, 3900 minutes, 13,000 words. I feel like I have outdone myself. The amusing thing is, I feel like I am capable of so much more.
It has been fun. It has been tough. It has been enjoyable.
Till next time, folks.
Duy out.
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Words strung together 
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