Great planning shit execution

[The best way to do something is to start doing it.]
…At least, in the case of a procrastinator.

Let’s say I’m tired of sleeping in during the holidays and would much rather be awake by some certain time. How do I do it?
My personal process is as follows: I’ll think about what I want to change or do, research the benefits and consequences of this decision, see what parts of my life I have to change to accommodate, realize I’ll need to go to bed earlier in order to shift my sleep rhythms earlier, write out this super detailed plan discussing the process and goals I have for myself, get ultra hyped for what I’m about to do, and sleep in the next day too.

This might seem funny now, but considering how frequently this happens, I had to reconsider my process for setting goals or trying to bring change into my life.

I remember several times trying to make schedules for daily routines, but if I happened to miss one of the scheduled events, I’d drop the rest of the day. “Whoops, I didn’t do some arbitrary activity, guess the entire day is gone too!”
Thinking that I may have written too many details when planning, I took away the routine and then gave myself several tasks I had to accomplish during some day. I can do the tasks whenever I’d like, and the rest of my time is at my leisure.
The entirety of my day would become the “rest of my time,” as I would get a handful of tasks done early on then just push off everything else.

It seemed that I was just undisciplined and needed better habits.
My habit of extensive planning helped me plan out several habits I would take upon myself to acquire, completely foolproof, and I again did not follow through. Maybe it’s an issue with discipline, maybe it’s an issue with my mindset…the issue can be anything but what it is wasn’t going to help me get stuff done.

What I found which lead me to the first statement was that irrespective of whether or not I was doing what I needed to be doing at the time, I was almost always doing something. The something I was doing just depended on where I was and how I felt at the time.
If I’m near my journals, I’ll spend my time reading them or writing in them.
Should I be in my room, I’ll most likely chill on my bed until I fall asleep.
I’m near a speaker or headphones? I’ll listen to music.

It became apparent that I had minimal problem getting tasks done, as long as I was in a position to work on them. Just being in the position to succeed made doing the task that much easier. For example, if there was a day I needed to read something from a textbook for school, I’d leave it open on my desk. Even if I didn’t read it then and there, I would get to it later that day because it was already conveniently open to where I needed it. Or, if I had to go the gym to work out or dance or etc and I wanted to do exactly not that, as long as I made sure I somehow went to the gym, I wouldn’t have a problem doing whatever it is I needed to.

I just have to take the first step in order to be successful. Which I feel stands true for most people.

Of course, the initial step might be the hardest step in a process, but the environment one is in can definitely make that step a lot easier. Instead of trying to force motivation out of oneself in order to complete some task, just shape the environment to facilitate working on that task.


Read Gift first to know what’s going on!



I have more journals than I know what to do with. I guess that’s better than having lesser journals than I need, though.

A gift I received for graduating high school

[Hell yeah]

is a fancy little journal with cream-colored pages bound inside leather covers. On the front cover, with reflective golden lettering, the journal reads, “I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT BOOKS”.

I have no idea why a blank book has that message on the front. The message gives a really cool look to the journal, though, similar in appearance to some religious scriptures.

The first page inside this journal has my name on it because the lined pages begin after this blank page.
The second page inside this journal has my thoughts regarding how I can use this journal. My too-many-journals issue was already in place before receiving this journal, but I didn’t want to not use it either. Ultimately, I decided to just write down thoughts of mine that I feel are important to keep track of, and that was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

As far as I’m aware of, of course.

As more time passed, I continued to write more and more of my thoughts in this journal, from internal dialogues trying to understand something, realizations and conclusions I’ve made which I believe have timeless relevance, questions seeking answers, and answers to my questions.

Because I only write what’s most meaningful to me, this journal has essentially become the closest representation to my core values and true person, second to myself. As such, when I am troubled or feel lost, this journal acts like a reset or “backup” for me to align myself with what matters most to me.

I guess, without this book, I probably couldn’t live.

I’ll be sharing some of the “truths” I’ve written with some personal elaboration or a little story of how that truth came to be, for the sake of putting more stuff on this blog.


one over n

There was once a young boy. He had just entered his teenage years.

As his experiences with the world weren’t significant enough to idealize the ambitions and paths he may have an interest in pursuing in the later years of his life, his mind was only capable of providing simple feedback to the current situations. Maturity would come much later.

This boy would spend a significant amount of his day in an environment which tested the physical capabilities of himself and his peers many days a week; he felt that it would be in his best interest to pursue personal development so that he may be on par with — and eventually surpass — the other boys in these tests.

He searched far and wide for the means to satisfy his desires, and his efforts lead him to a room of iron and machinery. As he stepped into the room, he was immediately met with others.

Others unlike he had ever seen before.

Our boy was short and thin, similar in appearance to a skeleton with just enough meat to pass for a human being. Those sitting in his retinas were of massive proportions, some with limbs almost as large as the boy himself. The boy avoided the gaze of those who stood above him and kept to himself. Unable to comprehend the true capabilities of these individuals, his young mind decided that his best course of action would be to minimize any interactions in an attempt to avoid potential conflict. Should conflict occur, our boy may not exist anymore.

[The innocent mind sometimes brings feelings of warmth to the mature who recognize it. The innocent mind sometimes brings trouble to the mature who try to change it.]

The boy sulked around, scanning the machines and the iron, until he found a horizontal bench with a suspended bar. As it was empty, this machine became the boy’s.

His first attempt almost killed him. His second attempt almost took out the boy’s shoulder. His third attempt left the bar suspended…or rather, sitting on the boy’s chest.

As a fish out of water, the boy gasped and gasped but his lungs were too heavily compressed. His breath gone, his vision began darkening, fading slowly

Powerless. Useless. Futile. Any effort was a wasted effort, this boy thought, slowly accepting that this may be the end of his story.

He closed his eyes.

“Push. It is your greatest obstacle which gives you your greatest development.”

The black in the boy’s eyelids are suddenly replaced with images of the other boys from this child’s life. He remembered why he was in this room of iron and machinery. He remembered why he had desired to find this room.

His eyes snap open, and where only a moment ago one would have seen a truly defeated soul now saw a light which shined more brilliantly than all of the stars combined.

His hands found the weight of the Earth on his chest, and with all the might he mustered, they pushed, and they pushed, and they pushed, and they pushed until his arms were fully extended.

He set the bar in its resting position and stood.

“Where did that voice come from?”

The boy looked near and far, high and low, but all he found were other beings just like him, focused only in their own pursuits.

He left the room.

It has been several months since that first attempt. The boy has been visiting consistently to the machine which had almost become his maker, and the boy was making honest progress.

Today, however, was of special significance. The boy would test himself to see if he could press up the largest iron plates in the gym. He had worked with the plates which sat in his palm, worked to the plates larger than the splay of his hand, graduated to the plates almost as big as his face, and now had his eyes on the plates as big as his abdomen.

He loaded the weights on the bar and laid down on the horizontal fixture.

The boy took a breath.

What felt like an eternity to the boy was only no more than a handful of moments. This child had succeeded in his attempt. The progress was tangible, he was appealing to his initial desire, the boy had begun to smell the aroma of success.

As he set the bar back in its holder, he heard whispering.

The boy had begun training late in the day, after the others had left, so that the boy may train in full comfort and at ease. In this empty room, then, where would whispering come from?

The whispering came again.

His iron? It seemed, but the boy reasoned that his machine was mouthless, and therefore was unable to speak.
The whispering visited again, and the boy, drawing his ear closer to the bar, quickly forgot his earlier reasoning.
Louder whispering met the boy.
He drove his head closer.
The whispering sounded closer.
The boy set his ear in contact with the cool, cool iron, as a curious individual would give his ear to hear the secret of another.
The bar spoke to the boy.

“lmao one plate fuken weak as hell boiiiiiiii”

Thus began the boy’s adventure into the Kingdom of Aesthetica.