Re: Why I stopped blogging for a year

It’s been well over a year since I published a full-length blog and I don’t feel guilty at all.

There were a few times when I’ve forced myself to sit down for an hour or two to write a blog post from the list of topics I’ve listed a long time ago or random topics I’ve thought of during my long commute from work. These times were the most excruciating writing sessions I’ve put myself through – for no damn reason! To make matters worse, I had a slew of excuses for why I couldn’t finish a blog post or why I had to stop writing. Eventually, I started to feel anxious about my skills as a writer. What if I just couldn’t write anymore? What if I lost my creative spark? What if my writing is not good enough?

I was psyching myself out of doing something I loved to do.

In retrospect, there were a few personal things I needed to reconcile with first over the past year or so. Blogging suddenly became such a laborious thing that I “had to do” on my free time after work. It just didn’t feel like something I enjoyed doing anymore. At first, I felt really bad. It felt like I was failing myself. So I took some time off to understand why I felt that way and figure out what I should do next to not feel like that anymore. Granted there are still a lot of things I need to work on, but I’m in a much better place now.

So, why am I blogging again?

Because I want to. Because I’m genuinely hungry to start writing again. I wholeheartedly want to continue sharing pieces of my life; lessons I’ve learned and my travel adventures to places I never thought I wanted to visit. I’m blogging again because it’s an expression of my authentic self – blogging has helped shape who I am and how I communicate. Though I won’t have a regular publishing schedule like I used to, I’m making an effort to continue writing and ultimately to continue expressing myself.

For those who have been there with me on my winding journey or those who are just stopping by for a quick read, thank you.

Always,

K

Dear London, U.K.

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You were not my first choice. In fact, you were not on my list of places to visit-ever! Frankly, I’ve heard many wonderful tales about you and your beauty but it has never enticed me to make the trip across the pond. So, it was as much of a surprise for me when I felt the sudden urge to visit you without reason. Looking back, I think I had to. I had to make up my own mind about you, based on my own experiences and not everybody else.

The fog blanketing the city streets brought a manageable melancholy that made the littlest joke funnier and my heart lighter. Amidst one of the busiest cities in the world, I walked in peace. Isn’t that ironic?

Surrounded by art, culture, and history, it was no surprise to bump into fellow visiting tourists in every corner. Wide-eyed and amazed by your vast beauty, this might seem all too romantic for you, because underneath lies, well, the Underground. Each station is a modern complement and convenience to and from ornate palaces, preserved houses and iconic landmarks. Perhaps, this great balance between history and modernity is what sprouted our love affair?

Or perhaps, it was walking along the cobble stone alley diverting from Marylebone Lane and finding a gem that served a delicious French Onion Soup. You thought I was going to say Fish and Chips, didn’t you?

Unexpectedly, I fell in love with you piece by piece. A gradual kind of love that left me wanting more as I board my flight home…

London, my unexpected love, I have to cut this letter short but rest assured that you’ve given me something I didn’t think I needed.

There’s no need for me to say that I’ll be back.

I will, in time.

Always,

K

P.S. Thank you for reminding me that, “It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.” –William Shakespeare

#ProjectLoveLetters

IMG_8754.jpgAn antiquated method of communication to some, a meaningful gesture for others, letters carry much more than pieces of paper with handwritten words. They capture specific moments of our lives-micro stories-only shared with their recipients.

Initially, I wanted to create Project Love Letters for my own selfish reasons. I wanted to see how people would react when they are given a letter with a simple motivational quote. I hoped that it would bring them, well, motivation. But the more I talked to a few other people about my idea, the more I saw that doing that lost the very essence of why we used to write letters. Sure, it was probably the only form of communication back then, but we also did it to share our stories and love. I’m a bit of a romantic if you didn’t know already. Perhaps, that’s why this project may not come as a surprise for some close friends.

So, I changed the project. Each letter would still be handwritten, but instead of given out to strangers, the letters are written for specific people and prompted to write letters of their own to whomever they like. Bring on the inside jokes, poetry, and intimate micro stories because if we can’t even write letters to our friends and loved ones, who can we write letters for? No texts, emails, tweets, or Facebook message. Actual pen-to-paper letters with guess what? Stamps! (If needed, hand delivered when possible of course!)

Let’s see how this goes, shall we? 😉 Feel free to send me an email if you would like to receive a letter as well 🙂  alwayskaye.blog@gmail.com

Ever mine.

Ever thine.

Ever ours.

Always,

K

P.S. When was the last time you wrote a letter? Christmas? Valentine’s Day? Share with us by leaving a comment below.

 

 

 

Re: A still mountain no more.

The days leading up to my recent birthday I found myself reminiscing about my high school self. To be quite frank she was much more confident and risk-oriented. She also had a stronger sense of conviction about who she was, what she wants to do and where she’s going. So I wondered, where did SHE go? How did I find myself less confident, more uncertain about my personal identity and what the future may hold? They said that we become wiser with age, but do we really?

I can think of a number of reasons as to why or how I’ve changed over the years but they don’t really matter. At the end of the day, I can see and feel the changes that impacted me like a tidal wave crashing the side of a mountain cliff. Salty waters trying to drip back down into the ocean through my crevices. Gradually they become a part of me. It stings a little.

Then again there’s nothing like water to wear down a mountain and open up a secret to you. You want to know what these waters revealed to me? I can’t tell you. Not because it’s a secret. Not because I’m embarrassed by it. Not even because it’s just too juicy to let it out in the open. I can’t tell you because I’m still riding the wave.

Will you hold my hand and ride beside me?

Always,

K

P.S. See the best part about writing reflections like this is that I don’t know how it will end. It may not sound completely cohesive but for some reason I felt compelled to write some parts of it as a metaphor. We go through changes and sometimes it’s hard to explain how we’ve changed and why. Now, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t miss my high school self and have felt regret that I may be disappointing her. But then it dawned on me that she didn’t know the difference between the questions: what do you want to be and who do you want to become? Right now, my goal is to remember the kind of strength that I once held and garner it. Sometimes we’re a little low on courage, better stock up whenever we can!

P.P.S. If you get the movie reference I would be very impressed! 🙂