Write Yourself Alive: Day 21 – Affirmation

Today’s Prompt: What has been your most recurring
 or helpful creative affirmation so far? What deeper need could it be pointing to? What part of your creative self might need
 more nourishing?

Real names, real stories. On the train to Bath, UK, July 2014.
Real names, real stories. On the train to Bath, UK, July 2014.

Having family, friends, and even my boss tell me that writing truly is my passion and that I really have a knack for it is so reaffirming. I write blog posts and use my skills doing write ups for classes, tweets and instagram at work, too. That may not seem like much, but knowing that they trust me to do this and be paid for it is something that means the world. When people immediately turn to me for creative ideas or input, I appreciate it so very much because I feel validated as a creator of art.

I think I have a pretty good sense of humour, as well as a good grasp of literature and history, which allow me to put into words everything that I need to get across, and do it in an entertaining way that makes you want to read it all the more. It’s what I want to do. Talk about food, history, travel.

I can say with certainty that my current occupation doesn’t allow for nearly as much of this as I would like, so my worry is that my creative energy is… well… dying in a way, because it’s not being utilized. I know that I need more of an outlet, more opportunity, which this website thankfully provides, but I know I’ll need to quench my thirst for it sooner or later.

One day soon, right?

Write Yourself Alive: Day 20 – Inevitable

Today’s Prompt: Describe a crazy, wild and exhilarating adventure you haven’t yet made happen, and you would like to have in this lifetime. What, where, who is in it? Tell the story in present tense as if it were happening as we speak. Dreaming and then writing about it are actually the first two steps in making it happen.

The view of St. Paul's Cathedral & Millennium Bridge from the Southbank, by the Tate Modern. London, August 2014.
The view of St. Paul’s Cathedral & Millennium Bridge from the Southbank, by the Tate Modern. London, August 2014.

I’ll keep this one short and sweet, because I just got home from seeing Alton Brown (life hero) live, and I have 6 minutes to midnight:

I’m moving to England. I’m packing my bags, acquiring that Youth Mobility Visa, and I’m jetting off to England and not looking back. The UK is in my bones. I may get it out of my system, or I may fall even more in love with it and want to stay forever. The point is. It’s happening. Sooner than you or I even think.

I’m moving home.

Write Yourself Alive: Day 19 – Broken, Literally

Today’s Prompt: Imagine you’ve just had an accident or have been diagnosed with an illness. If you have in the past or are dealing with it now, write about it. Write a diary entry in your life while dealing with physical injury or illness. Describe the impotence, the limitations, the pain, the change in perception (from healthy vs. sick), and the evolution (change of mind, heart, lifestyle) that may come from this experience.

Fresh from the hospital. January 16, 2012
Fresh from the hospital. January 16, 2012

Useless. Powerless. Inept. And all because I was on my way to Safeway.

Black ice covered the hill I used to live on, and the walk down became a slide, and I ended up hearing a weird noise, feeling a weird sensation, and collapsing to the ground.

Then I couldn’t get up.

Fast forward a few hours, and my leg is in a giant brace and I have crutches. Fast forward a few more after that, and I’m writing a letter of resignation to my bosses, informing them that I can’t work…and that I don’t even know if I’ll be able to walk properly again. My entire career in a kitchen was cut short because of this one incident. My entire life and goals changed forever because of this one incident.

The physiotherapy was excruciating. Absolute agony. Thank god Antonio (my physiotherapist) would distract me and talk about Game of Thrones, because when he wasn’t, I was swearing and crying instead. It’s ironic how I was in more pain trying to fix my leg than I was when I had hurt it.

What hurt more, though, was taking public transit with crutches or a cane. I got odd looks from other people; I could see that they were either questioning if I was this young fool just faking it to get a prime seat on the bus or train, or I could see them judging, trying to think of what I did to have hurt myself.

One woman behind me whispered (in Filipino) to her friend, “She probably broke her leg because she’s so fat.”

I turned around, smiled, and replied to her fluently (to her horror), that I’d never wish this upon her, in spite of her hateful comment.

You could say that this incident changed me irrevocably, because it did. It changed what I wanted to do (and what I could do) with my life. For a good few months, I was in woe-is-me mode, and thought that my whole world was crashing down around me. In truth, it was simply the façade around me that broke, revealing the truth around me instead.

I didn’t see it then, but I see it now, and in a way, I’m grateful. I wouldn’t be where I am, doing what I’m doing right now if not for this one incident. I’d likely be at work right now (it’s 8:35PM), busting my arse until I burnt out.

So thank you, accident. Thank you for breaking me, and putting me (for the most part) back together again.