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A mystery wrapped in an enigma

 

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It’s been a while, Plinky.

Today’s a biggie and ultra-touchy subject: “Tell us something most people probably don’t know about you.”

Well, there is one thing that I know most people have no clue about me.

I have a friggin’ low self-esteem – probably the most insecure person you’ll ever know. Ever.

People don’t know that because it’s not important to know. I don’t feel it’s important for anyone to know, because I don’t think anybody would think I am someone important to know unless I’ve done something big and positive to this world somehow.

I fake my confidence a lot, especially when I want to get others to speak up. Most of the time, by keeping quiet before someone gives me the permission to speak, I benefit from knowing what people want.

I know what people want. Most of the time, they just want another confirmation that their own opinion is true.

People LOVE being approved. So do I – through my writing.

Even if I get chatty, there are only two reasons for it: a) I like to please you, or b) I genuinely don’t care about you.

I like to please you because I don’t see myself worthy enough to be able to listen to your brilliant ideas. I talk a lot to make fun of myself so that you feel comfortable talking to me about your brilliant ideas.

But when I genuinely don’t care about you, I make noise just to fill the empty space. I chat just to make you feel cared. Most people talk because they want a good ear to hear them out, and I know how it feels. I don’t want to make people feel the same way, so I make noise, and just so you know, every writer is a listener.

On the other hand …

I practice good posture, I practice proven techniques to carry myself well, I always try to speak up with a clear voice, and I always make sure my message is clear. I never write for the sake of writing – and any good writer knows that good writing comes from a voice that genuinely have something to say.

By that, people always think I have confidence.

So, I would prefer others not knowing what I look like in person other than my writing, which is always written with good intent, and likewise, I prefer people who see me as a pretty little dumbo in real life continue to think I’m a pretty little dumbo.

That way, I can always know the real person behind those blinds.

 
 

Follow all my answers of the Plinky prompts. Or better yet – sign up and get yourself writing away!

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Divide it amongst yourselves

Solely for productivity’s purposes: if I have the choice, I still do not wish to divide up my soul into pieces.

But I’d like several me’s divided into separate bodies: a blogger/writer/editor, a digital illustrator, a half-marathon and marathon runner, a custom cook, a hotel-lobby pianist, a side guitarist, a landscape photographer, an animal rescuer, a social volunteer, and a dedicated idealist.

The one soul sitting quietly and answering this Plinky question right now comes in an all-in-one package of all me’s.

She’s imperfect. She believes so.

As she writes away, she discovers that she is not required to separate or transfer her functions into different bodies. As one whole body and with undivided attention, her ultimate duty is being a time(ly) manager – managing effort and energy according to its time … while still figuring out how to doing everything at once.

What about you? If you were able to clone yourself, how would you divide your duties?

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Me + 10…

From Josey O’Neal.

I am 32 years old.

I am married. I have all the children I want to have for the rest of my life.

My children are cute, smart, nimble, and independent. I play the piano to them, the guitar to them, sing for them, dance for them, draw for them, read and write for them, pour tea for them, cook for them, bake for them, and let them see all the possible things they can do in the world. The way I raise my kids is to let them know I am there whenever they need me, but they are encouraged to do whatever they want to do with their lives. I will never force them to do anything they do not wish to do, or fulfill some unfinished business in my own life, or become someone else they’re not.

I have a loving husband. I trust him. He is my partner for life – the one person I primp up for, dress up for, be good, look good and do good for, and smile to every morning and night.

We (our family) own a big dog. I wrestle with it whenever I’m down. We play with it, and jog or run together on Sunday mornings.

We might have a pygmy pig too, whose name is Bobo. The pig likes to sleep and loves to be loved.

I have a steady job: I own a sole proprietorship company. I run my schedule everyday based on demands. It’s a satisfying, rewarding, and fulfilling full-time job where I can juggle my time to take care of the kids, make love to my husband, have my own space and time alone, and maintain good health.

I make sure my husband and my children enjoy good nutrition and good sleep every single day. Healthy brains mean wealthy lives.

At 32, I’m working on writing my own book.

By 32, my writing has appeared on at least 7 different publications.

By 32, my art has been sold to 9 people.

By 32, my craft is to integrate art with text to best illustrate the stories of others, to others, and for others. Stories bring people together. My family sticks together as one no matter what happens, not only because my job is to show and tell stories, but also because we know we are a family and that we will always have each other.

By 32, I have ran both the half-marathon and marathon. They are two biggest achievements of my personal life.

By 32, I would have made an impact on at least 100 people’s lives, one way or another

By 32, I am no longer a girl nor a lady. I am a thirty, happy, and thriving woman.

Now I’ll handover the million-dollar question to you: Think of your life ten years from today. What’s different?

 

 

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