The Power of Thoughts

2014 was a shitty year for me. So at the beginning of 2015, the very first words I wrote in my journal were: 2015 will be better. Believe.

Indeed, it was.

2015 had been a roller coaster ride as I try to reach for my dreams. The highest point being when I finally got into the media; the lowest point being that feeling of a familiar burn out towards the end of last year.

I have this burning passion to tell stories from the ground. But I was hired to be an armchair journalist and was constantly writing about stabbing, shooting, rallying.

Perhaps I was just tired of crime stories, but I somehow felt tired of writing. Normally I would be so excited to grab my journal and pour my heart out as soon as I got home, but I started resenting the craft.

Instead of letting my thoughts flow into words, I went for the brush and paint. It was a mediocre attempt, though. Deep inside, I knew that my art is still writing.

So when 2016 opened, I wrote: Writing will take me to heights unimagined.

Surprisingly, with the half of the year through, I think I’m almost correct.

First, I was able to revive this blog from its near death. I am happy to say that I will not lose the momentum to keep on updating my readers anytime soon.

I’ve also been very fortunate to bag a few interesting writing sidelines. It helps give me another sort of identity as a writer and it makes me believe that there are still lots of good in the world.

I am positive that the rest of the year will bring out the best of my writer self. I am still looking for ways to better my craft and for opportunities that indeed will take me to heights I never dreamed of.

Response to the daily prompt: Prophecy

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Where Dreams and Nightmares Collide

A year it has been since I decided to move out of the countryside and live in the capital city.

It was a hard decision to make. I have always loved the lush green scenery of home; however, the opportunities I want are in this crowded city.

So after some months of thinking and rethinking, off I went to the city that is the home of my dreams but is also the source of my living nightmare.

When once I knew people around me, now I get bumped by dozens of strangers who, like me, are in a constant rush.

Where once I see towering trees, now there’s nothing but skycrapers. And I do miss the sight of birds now replaced with dots of airplanes way up above.

Where once there is silence, now there are blaring horns even on the earliest hour of the day and latest of the night.

I never worried about rains before. As a matter of fact, I welcome the rainy season because a lot of crops will grow. Now, I fear even the slightest drizzle that might bring about gutter-deep floods.

Back in the countryside, it takes me only 15 minutes to get to work 28 kilometers away. In this city, it would take a miracle to be there in an hour.

As I get stuck in traffic jams and bear witness to the collective disappointment of commuters thinking about their wasted time and money, I question my choices: Was it a wise choice leaving the peace of home for the chaos of the city? Am I really somewhere better? Why am I trying to make a career in a restless industry in an equally restless city?

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