Numbers don’t lie

“You can’t have a million-dollar dream with a minimum-wage work ethic.”

-Stephen C. Hogan

This line has been stuck in my head when the speaker from our meeting yesterday flashed this in her PowerPoint presentation. I decided to write about this idea to reiterate the value of Work Ethic, and how does it affect not only the digits in your bank account but most significantly the quality of life that you live.

I’m a huge believer of numbers. Being in sales for nearly 7 years, I have relied on logical computation on achieving what I want. I’ve never enjoyed the idea of being a regular employee (that’s why I’ve never been one), wherein the paycheck depends on the hours you spend on your office and not by the amount of hard work you put in. At some point I find this idea a little unfair to those who work harder but gets the same salary as the ones who don’t. I have nothing against employees though, because I know some people who are happy to be one. This is speaking from my own experience, my own belief system that the idea of the Law of Averages has not only made me earn more than average at the age of 26, but also improved the quality of my life in general. It has polished in a way that I’ve developed a great work ethic that has now become a habit. Truth be told that I’m not normally the most skillful in the room, neither the most talented but I can confidently say that I can fill in those loop holes by working on my numbers. I prefer working hard over working smart, above all means.

Numbers, however, is truly not the sole component of success, but if you can master it, you’re on your way to achieving whatever it is that you want. It’s a formula that anyone can use regardless of how good you are at something. When you increase your numbers, whether in terms of the number of hours you spend on your career or on writing in your blog, or on studying something that interests you, you will see a massive and positive change on the results of it. If you double your effort, or at least do that extra 1%, the repercussion will mirror what you have exerted at a certain time only fate or God could tell. The fruits of your hardwork has their own perfect timing. If you’re working way above mediocre level today and not reaping the benefits yet, you have to instill in your mind that you must be patient. Patience is a virtue anyway, yes?

In addition to that, there is no way you you would ever miss a target if you religiously follow your hitrate. Hitrate is your personal ratio that is computed based on your skill level. As a Financial Wealth Adviser, my hit rate started at 10:1, that now has upgraded over the years to 3:1. This means that for me to be able to close a deal back then, I need to be able to present to 10 clients before I can get a successful YES. In terms of blogging, this post will be my 19th, with (only) 104 followers so far, on my 3rd week since I put this up. This means that for each daily post, I get to have roughly 5 followers, hence my hit rate on increasing the number of followers based on each published post is 1:5. Now I guess I have to write twice daily so I can have 10 new followers per day, hmm. What do you think? Hihi. 🙂

Anywho, numbers don’t lie. When you look at yourself and you’re not happy with where you are right now, odds are you didn’t apply a certain amount of work ethic for each of your goals. So let me end this post with how I started it—Your dream, that doesn’t necessarily have to be a million dollar, will be fulfilled if you add an amazing work ethic on your belief system and act on it whilst you can. Success is not a sprint after all that you have to acquire the speed of Usain Bolt just to get it. And you can’t use a shortcut to success in exchange for a short term happiness with a long term catastrophe. The idea is to enjoy the process on achieving it, heedless of the time, because the destination will surely be there at the end of the tunnel. Have fun in the process of working hard, learn from each hurdles along the way and soon enough you will reap all the benefits of your above average, multi-millionaire level of work ethic.

Thank you, Facebook.

I set the alarm at 4:30am tomorrow and decided that I’m going to sleep early today but my brain can’t seem to shut down—vividly rewinding all the events of this day, contemplating about the things I’m supposed to do tomorrow, carefully calculating the targets I have to hit, worried about the book I have to finish, counting the clients I have to call and thinking about our good old memories—I have more to add but you don’t care anyway so I wouldn’t jot them all down no more. My point is, I feel so restless for the hectic list of to-do’s that keep on flashing in my head it’s making me so anxious because I just f—ckn wanna go to sleep but I caaaaannn’t, UGH!!! Have you ever felt this way too? I reckon you do. So what do you normally do when you can’t sleep?

Facebook?

Hmm. No. This ain’t right.

He cheated on me, I should stop stalking him.

Yes. It’s been three weeks since.

I couldn’t focus because of this urge again. To view his profile. To stare endlessly at his solo photos and them ones with her. To crush my heart with my own hands. To kill my soul with the growing jealousy in me. It has grown so much it agonises my poor self. But i loved it—the torture I bestowed upon myself like an honor of excellence awarded to me. I get so damn hurt but at least I get to see him, you know? It’s a rewarding torture after all.

I picked up the laptop lying on top my bedside table and pursued the calling to open Facebook. So I logged in. In two seconds the news feed blatantly presented his newly posted picture two hours ago. Wow, facebook! You didn’t even give me a chance to hesitate to type his name on the search box!

Sigh.

I felt a sudden pinch in my heart it kinda burns. I stared at the photo he posted for like a minute, with the caption that says: “With my gorgeous princess.” 

Wow. He used to call me his princess back then. Ha ha! He didn’t even bother changing it! Brilliant! Then, I clicked on the comments below and a lot of people are congratulating them—telling them the they-look-good-together lie, and there’s this one girl by the name of Jane Lee who left a comment that I even had to zoom in to ascertain the exact words my eyes had just read…

“He used to call me his princess too, don’t fall on that trap.” 

I’m like WTFFFFFF!!!!!

I don’t know what to feel. Each word from that random comment stunned me it goes deep within my veins, my blood couldn’t even flow anymore—I think it’s stopped. My heart is now beatless, lifeless. He didn’t just cheat on me alone, he cheated on me and Jane and even on that foolish girl on the picture he just posted. What an a*shole!!!!

I couldn’t contain the unidentified emotion I am feeling right now so I slammed the laptop close and zoned out for like two minutes with my mouth open and my eyes that suddenly forgot to blink.

The love I thought I still have for him instantly vanished like a bubble. This unidentified peculiar kind of emotion replaced the crazy kind of love I initially had for him. It’s that inexplicably odd feeling that makes you numb from the weird mix of love and hatred and anger and regret that is at some point a sense of freedom. I am now free from the trap, from his trap.

I smiled nonchalantly like some sort of an invisible thorn was taken away from my flesh. It’s still bleeding but it feels lighter. There’s a visible wound, but it’s going to heal soon, I am sure of that.

If not with the urge to stalk him again through Facebook, I wouldn’t be utterly awaken from this nightmare. If there’s one thing I learned from this experience tonight, it is the idea of spoiling yourself, albeit knowing it’s bad for you and expecting a certain punishment that will add up to your list of experiences from which you learn from—hence you grow and become wiser. This moral lesson (lol) abruptly just cleared my head, released all them worries free, thus now I think I’m ready for a goodnight sleep.

#fiction

(Photo credit to the owner)

A woman’s edge (Part 1)

It’s 7:06 in the morning and we started the day bickering. Good way to start the day, ain’t it? My stupid husband hated confrontations he usually walks out to evade emotional arguments like this. I was crying, I couldn’t help it. He witnessed my sobbing but he still managed to walk out like he always do, grabbed his car keys and left me with his deep sigh of anger. Does he really understand what I am going through? I know how much he suffered too–from our three consecutive loss. Yes, I got conceived because of his f–cking sperm but it was me who felt them in my womb, they were inside me, they were a part of who I am and I was supposed to be their protector. But damn it, I failed. Don’t you know how hard it is to know we have created an angel, three angels in fact, but we lost all of them in the process of letting them stay in me for 9 months?!

Yes you heard it, I had a miscarriage three times in a row and that made me second guess the idea of living. I hated myself, I hated Ryan, I hated my job—and everything else. I’ve been on and off from being completely happy. The latest miscarriage was the hardest part because he stayed in my womb for 107 days and I prayed everyday to the Lord and promised Him I’ll surrender everything to Him in exchange to this tiny gift—but He didn’t. It was absolutely terrifying, because due to this unlucky life of being an “almost mother”, my now catastrophic marriage might also make me an “almost wife” soon.

I’ve been so hard on him, I’m aware of that. But you can’t blame me. The pain that has built up inside me has almost eaten up my whole being. Ryan would try endlessly to turn me on, but I just can’t do it no more. It’s not because I ceased loving him, because I still love him despite what’s been happening. It’s merely hard to explain, I reckon it’s because the fear of losing has already overruled my brain.

My husband Ryan is an introvert so he doesn’t literally say everything that’s on his mind, but he knows well how to showcase it, unlike my innate personality of being so honest and straightforward. He always have something going on in his mind—especially these past few days. I started seeing this odd behaviour when I noticed him bringing his phone with him most of the time. Yesterday he took such a long time inside the shower and it sent some queer signals to my brain, something’s changed in him, I thought. He also seems so pre-occupied lately, like his attention has partly drifted away from a far away land. I felt like he’s hiding something. What if he’s cheating?

I could hardly sleep last night because I’ve been overthinking his sudden change of behaviour. Even the way he sleeps now has changed. His body’s lying against the mattress, sided on the left, facing away from me. All i can see is his back full of hard muscles ’cause he’s been going in the gym lately as well, he said it’s his way of holding up from the tragedy. He’s looking so macho though, I figured I forgot to look at my husband this way, it’s been a long time since. I brushed off the revived attraction I felt and focused on the messages of my instincts again. I got up from our bed, trying not to make a sound so he wouldn’t wake up. I need to feed answers to the long list of negative questions in my head.

What if I’m right? What if he met a hot girl from the gym and he’s having sex with her already? Ughhh scratch it.

I can’t have this unwanted thoughts linger whilst I’m trying to get hold of his Iphone—I need to put things together and stay focused on my plan. I searched for his phone on his table, and then in his drawers, (which is weird i know), and I even looked at his bag despite the tiny chance of finding it there. Where is he hiding it? It took me almost 15 minutes of seeking, and then viola! I found it! Why did he has to put it under his pillow though? Hmm. My heart doubled its beat when I held his phone and it tripled when my fingerprint isn’t a match anymore. Ugh. I wanted to punch this bastard now! But nooo, I need to stay composed and focused on this. I put 111185 for the passcode since it’s his birthday but it didn’t push through. I tried my birthday, 091990, but failed again. Entered a couple more combinations—our anniversary, the day we met, the first time I got pregnant—until the phone got blocked. Shit! I wanted to throw his phone for being too mad but I refrained myself from doing so and decided to scrutinise his things instead. I found his laptop and tried to open it. It’s requiring a freaking password again! Oh no, nevermind. I decided to stop this crazy agenda and returned the laptop back to its bag. Before I can manage to fully zip the laptop bag, I saw a small black rectangular shaped thing in the side pocket of it. I rapidly held it and to my astonishment — it was an old model of Nokia mobile phone back in the day. This is it. This will end all my worries. I’m sure of it.

As i try to unlock this evil extra phone of my husband that I didn’t know exists, it scandalously beeped twice indicating that the battery is now low. Darn it! My husband suddenly moved and then….

To be continued…

#fiction

One whimsical thought

She was reading something when I saw her this morning. Heedless of my presence, oblivious to my growing admiration for her.

She seemed as if she was beautifully jailed in her imagination—the way her eyes move with each word shows so much passion. She was glued to her own world, enjoying the adventure of the book she holds.

That’s what I like most about her.

She expands her mind with her love for curiosity. She asks me questions everyday, in her most zealous and most innocent way.

Then one day she asked me, “how come all your paintings are amazing?”

I was delighted, stunned by that heartfelt query. It was too flattering I couldn’t find the right words to say.

But my heart spoke and said…

Her love for me makes me crave to be the best.

Her respect for my creation pushes me to study more and improve my artistic self.

Her presence uplifts my soul so much I couldn’t help but fall for her hard each day.

I held her right hand and closed my eyes for a coupla seconds—then I kissed it. Thought she would find it enough for an answer, that it was all because of her.

(Digital Painting credit to my boyfriend, Arvy)

#fiction

Fresh eyes (Part 1)

This is the most nerve-racking moment in her life. By the time she woke up, she felt like she slept in a pond of sweat. She hurriedly wiped it with her bare hands as soon as she saw a seemed-like-a-slow-mo drop of it from her chin down to her lap. She suddenly panicked so she rapidly got up from her tangled bed, threw away her blanket and ran towards the mirror. She was startled to see her reflection but at the same time she felt some sense of relief. She looked normal, no bruises, no wounds, no blood.

“It was just a dream, Amma, ok? It will never come to life.” She said to herself whilst zooming herself in and out, looking for some sort of physical damages, examining her face and her body in the mirror. She tried to lift herself up with those words of affirmation but she’s utterly aware of a familiar scary possibility.

It all started when she was 16. Amma lost her parents due to the famous 2011 suicide plane bombing.She has a 10 year old sister, at that time, named Emma, who just turned 17 last December. It’s been exactly seven years since they passed away but the effect of this tragic event is still fresh in her memory. That was also the time she realized her gift that she sometimes refer to as a curse—because Amma can’t help but to blame herself, she thought she could have used her gift to warn her parents about what she has seen in her dreams. She could have went there and informed everyone she knew what’s going to happen, heedless of  whether they believe her or not—she could have saved her parents and 100 more innocent lives. But she didn’t. For she knows it’s absurd to believe that she could see the future through her dreams.

The premonitons that show up when she’s asleep are not usually bad dreams per se. Oft times it’s good and funny and sexy but last night’s dream was intensely terrifying. In this dream, Amma saw herself drunk driving, on her way home, with an unknown guy in the passenger seat who was laughing crazily, a bottle of Nils Oscar beer in his right hand, his left on her hips and as he was about to kiss her, she saw a silhouette of a man who’s about to cross the street, so she quickly turned the steering wheel to her right, unable to anticipate the ten-wheeler truck coming in the same lane she’s in. The unknown guy shouted at her, Watch out!, but Amma recklessly lost control and then BAAAM!

To be continued…

(Photo credit to the owner)

This is why you should write daily

It all started when I was around six years old. I used to write crappy stories in a piece of paper which I often fold horizontally into two so it could have like a cover where the title is shown with some ridiculously kiddie drawing below. Stories like the “princess and the mouse”, “the dog and cat who always fight” and a lot more funny titles to name. It was just a hobby, really. Until I learned how to create a diary where I would religiously share almost everything that happened in my life every single day. For 12 years now, I still maintain a journal with me- apart from this blog, just to share my thoughts and feelings daily. It was a hobby turned into a habit, a habit turned into zeal.

How do you feel everytime you get to write something? It makes you feel some sense of relief, right? Just like opening up to a friend, writing whatever it is in your mind will make you feel lighter. Whether you write for a living or it’s literally just a hobby, writing things down is very beneficial to you. I don’t know about you but each time I get to write something, there were positive signals being sent to my brain that’s pushing me to feel great. You don’t really have to be the best writer, neither your writing  has to be grammatically perfect nor it has rules that you have to abide. All you need to do is to be completely honest with yourself—understand your current state of mind whilst juggling words that would eventually create an idea.

If you feel happy today, write it down! If you experience some sort of pain and it bothers you, write it down! If you know something that you want other people to learn about, write it down and post it. Writing everything down is like having a voice without a sound but you know what? It ironically impacts the loudest.

According to dailyinfographic.com, when you are writing things down, you are stimulating a collection of cells in the base of your brain known as the Reticular Activating System. The RAS is the filter of all the information your brain needs to process and it gives more attention to what you are currently focusing on. The physical act of writing brings the information to the forefront and triggers your brain to pay close attention. Thus, writing things down help us remember more. They also believe that writing serves as a calming and meditative tool and has been identified as a helpful stress coping method.

It’s through writing that you will get to create a message that you never thought you’d be able to send. It doesn’t matter if as of today no one follows you neither if someone reads your content. The idea of writing is to initially do it for yourself. If you’re doing it to be of service to people or to reach a certain number of followers and not a lot of readers have heard you yet, don’t lose hope. Just friggin’ write every waking day of your life.

Don’t think about what other people’s judgment will be. As clichéd as it may seem, but just do it. Nevertheless, don’t mind the clichés experts say you need to avoid so that people would read your content. Keep on writing and do not stop. Don’t let overthinking ruin your chances of forming a bright idea. Treat your brain—get a pen and paper or a laptop or a even just your phone, NOW. Write them thoughts down to relieve that stress inside you and you will see a better version of yourself, after creating a habit of writing daily. Happy writing!