lifelog Tag Posts Index

Leveling Up My Distraction

So, about that 'hustle' I was talking about... Yeah, let's just say my focus has taken a slight detour. Or maybe, a full-on, high-speed exit off the highway of

Budget Meal and Meltdowns

Yeah this could be the advanced stages of budget meal mastery. To be quite honest I’ve always been a supporter of the creative cuisine thing, but now it is more

The Ghost of Night Shifts Past and My Broke Present

So, here's the thing about reunions: they're a bittersweet reminder of how much has changed. Last night, CeCe, Raine, and Chuckie – my old night shift buddies from

Maldita Memories and the Messenger Mystery

So, after my friends’ glorious reunion (that I missed, thanks to my 'broke era'), we did what any good former night shifters do: we took the party online. CeCe,

I Keep Coming Back to Writing Because It Keeps Me Company

Even when I don’t share it, I write. Random thoughts. Nonsense. Fragments. Some days it feels like scribbling into the void. But something about writing reminds

I Don't Need to Catch Up to Anyone

It's funny how it happens, isn't it? Comparison has this sneaky way of creeping into our lives. It often shows up so quietly, almost unnoticed at first. Maybe it's

There’s Nothing Wrong With a Quiet Life

I used to want the loud kind of success—the kind you could brag about. But that craving has softened. Now I want the kind of life that feels good at 8 a.m. on a

My Attention Span Is a Wobbly Thing

Some days I can focus for hours. Other days, I bounce between thoughts like a browser with 30 tabs open and nothing loading. I used to feel bad about this. Now,

I’m Tired of Waiting to Be Ready

I used to wait for the “right” version of myself to show up—the more motivated, more organized, more impressive me. But lately I’ve realized that version never arrives.

The Days I Don't Try Too Hard Still Count

Some days I barely move the needle. The dishes stay in the sink. I open tabs and close them. I stretch half-heartedly and call it a workout. And guess what? The

Everything Is Taking Longer. That Doesn’t Mean I Failed

The timeline I imagined is long gone. The goals I set back then were drawn by someone who didn’t know the terrain. And still—I’m here. Still moving. Just slower.

The Answer Isn’t Coming Right Now. I Can Still Live Anyway

I used to wait for the big signal. A sign. A clear yes or no. Life doesn’t really work that way, at least not anymore. Now I make peace with not knowing. I do the

I’m Not Lost. I’m Between Chapters

There’s a weird pressure to always be on the move. New goal. New project. New version of yourself to show off. But lately, I’ve stopped pretending I know what’s

I Stopped Being Cool and Got Real Again

At some point I decided I had to be “put together.” Like every emotion had to be labeled and logged. Like every creative idea needed a side hustle. But recently

Some Things Come Back When You’re Quiet Enough to Miss Them

There are songs I can’t play anymore because they remind me of who I was before everything shifted. Not because I don’t love them—but because I wasn’t ready to feel

I Still Like the Things I Liked

I used to think moving forward meant throwing everything behind. New phase, new tastes, new personality. But lately? I’ve been craving the old stuff. The weird snacks.

Reintroducing Myself—To Me.

I’m not chasing a new version of myself. I’m not building a brand. I’m not buying a planner and pretending I’ll use it. I’m just checking in. Who am I now that the

Clarity Begins

There’s a strange silence after you unplug from noise. No algorithms. No constant input. At first it’s too quiet—like being left alone in a dusty room. But then,

What If You’re Not Stuck—Just Waiting for the Right Question?

I used to ask, “What should I do with my life?” But that question is too big, and honestly, too mean. These days I ask softer ones: What feels light today? What

I Don’t Know What I’m Doing—But I’m Doing Something

Some days, I open tabs I don’t finish. I write down ideas I won’t use. I stare at old photos, half-smiling, half-cringing. But I’ve stopped calling it wasted time.