It’s been a while since my last blog post — January of the year 2015. After more than a year not writing a thing, I can say I’m a changed man. I now know how much little I know. Though I know the fact before, my experiences validated it more.

I sacrificed a lot. Sweat. Tears. Blood sometimes.

Oops! Sorry for the dramatic entrance. 🙂

Yep, same as you, I gained more hard-earned life experiences. These past one year and nine months without blogging is a blast.

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Art Was Never Finished, It’s Only Abandoned

For many months, I didn’t have any practice in writing except for digital journaling with Diaro app on my mobile phone. I need some form of accountability for myself. Journaling put me into the right perspective. Especially in the times, when I’m not noticing myself of having improper behaviors at work. I came to the point not to complain much about the heat and other petty things as it should be expected. I get annoyed at small things. I should not anymore. I still fall from time to time.

As of this writing (read: typing), I’m in my fifth project as a Quality Control Inspector. I’m in this huge construction project. You might ask, “what do you do in your job?” Well, I control the quality of the work. Yes, I know I’m smart. 🙂

The challenge is not that I don’t have enough time to write due to my work. Though it was a valid reason to realize what season of my life I’m in now. It is that I lose my passion. My fire was extinguished.

I lost my reason to continue. The reason to provide for my immediate needs outweighs my reasons to write.

Almost every day, I felt the heat of outside work due to the desert sun. But, the heat from the fire in my heart to write stagnate. It became as cold as frozen dead camel meat.

It pains me though not to write. Almost the same pain in seeing the emotional and physical difficulties of workers I encounter every day. I need to unlearn again my learned helplessness.

Sorry for abandoning my art. Art was never finished. I should continue until it matters to something bigger than myself.

I need to start again. I know I have to do something.

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The Power of Believing in Yourself

“You are a writer when you tell yourself you are. No one else’s opinion matters. Screw them. You are when you say you are.” –Steven Pressfield

The quote above was simple yet hard. Every cell of my body is yelling “how could you call yourself a writer?!” I don’t know the answer. I write again to practice this craft. Hoping I can answer the question in the near future.

I tell myself at least I’m a writer through blogging. And I will continue on blogging. The day will come I’ll be comfortable to call myself a writer.

I can interpret Steven Pressfield in my tiny worldview. Perhaps, he is not passing a message where an unfortunate street beggar who doesn’t know how to read and write can say he is a writer and become one on the spot. We should believe in something we think we are not yet, but we might already are. Then verify it with consistent action.

To believe is to see. The Bible also reminds me, faith without action is dead.

Ms.Sha Nacino, one of the Filipino writers I follow online. I even met her once personally, says “write because you care and you have a message to share.”

Now, I already lived here in Saudi Arabia for two years. Straight. No vacation leave except locally. At first, I have to prove my worth to the company. People don’t believe in me. That was natural. I have no choice. I need to believe in myself.

I did a lot of mistakes. My quirkiness and lack of self-confidence give people the negative impression about me. They pushed and belittled me.

Now, my peers and bosses treat me better. They saw I can finish tasks. I can deliver. I can manage different situations. I can deal with different types of people. I’m not a naturally talented and skillful person. I simply believe. My circumstances force me to.

If you are passionate about something, and you are afraid, then perhaps it is worth giving a shot. We can’t rely on circumstances to force us always. We should decide on our own.

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You Only Live Once

Young people has this “YOLO” movement. We (We? I’m still young right?) thought of “You Only Live Once” as the new way of life. Hindus believe in reincarnation, so probably they don’t count. But most of us do. We only live once.

I want to make an assumption this is not the words came down from heaven. We should put cautions from the trap of entitlement. Everything we do should serve a better purpose. Don’t simply indulge in whatever brings pleasures and desires. Don’t simply do things out of your whims.

Use properly, this is a great way of living.

I overhauled my About Page last Friday, my only rest day in a week. Yep, this is my Saudi life. I put there “I’ll commit to publishing a blog post every Wednesday.”

I should give writing the respect it deserves. If I care, then I should make time and effort for this. Take consistency seriously. For the applause of none. Just for the love of writing.

There are seven days in a week. And ‘someday’ is not one of them.

We only live once. And once is enough. Should it be?