Bad habits
Emotional Intelligence (EI)
Emotional Intelligence (EI) Many of us are familiar with IQ (Intelligence Quotient), the result of a battery of tests used to gauge intellectual intelligence. Better cognitive talents, which include the capacity for learning and understanding, are indicated by higher IQ scores, and those with higher IQs are more likely to succeed in academic settings without putting in the same amount of mental work as those with lower IQ scores.
By Ibrahim Mshelia2 years ago in Confessions
Good Luck Next Time
I take the motorbike down to the beach. I decide against the paid parking spot and go further down to where the locals go, I’m a local after all. On the way I thought a Coca-Cola would suffice to defeat the pit of guilt for an angered night that burned alongside a steady, scattered hangover. There’s a little restaurant there that’s overpriced and sells those ‘I’ve been to Asia’ type tourist meals that people flock to. They’re fixing the side of the restaurant and the aqua blue tin sheeting has been pulled off and they’re using a drill to reconnect it. I remember that I, too, know how to complete such a task. I walked to the sand and seated myself on a red, leather cushioned lounge chair parked under a large umbrella, along a line of red, leather cushioned lounge chairs parked under umbrellas. It’s satisfying enough. I remember how my ex-girlfriend - the woman I asked to marry me and was engaged to for a short period - used to require sculling a can of coke as a means of curing a hangover. I remember my sister saying the same thing just a few days ago. I remember that my Mum loved Coca-Cola in a can too. Before she passed, after I’d finished a long day at work and finished all of our grocery shopping, being sure to bring home the coke that she asked for, she sent me back to the supermarket to exchange the Coca-Cola bottle for a can. She always preferred it in cans - nay, required it in cans. I sipped away before agreeing and sculling, thinking maybe it will help. “Hi sir, you want something to drink?” I knew what was coming. “No Chí cám ơn. Oh I can’t sit here? Ahhh..”
By Michael O'Connor2 years ago in Confessions
10,000 photos and a whole box of journals
What aspirations for 2024 matter more than peace and love? I'll admit, I use Vocal as a sounding block mostly and in difficult times barely at all. I work hard to craft my stories in a way that I can get my mental health in order as I build out the parameters of the challenges I enter. The Challenges are certainly what keeps me hanging on.
By Abbey June Schwartz2 years ago in Confessions
King of the Forgotten Land
It'll fuck you up, but it'll make you king of the forgotten land. That fucking bottle, the financial cost was at an all time low of three dollars. I don't know who told you that red wine was for the finer folk in society, but they were wrong. Sure, I mean believe it or not I've paid more than twenty dollars for the odd bottle of grape juice, the taste is phenomenal when you throw an extra buck on it, but the feelings all the same. Once, maybe twice I drank it in moderation, what an absolute bore it was. Sipping away like a happy little chap with a ticket to the chocolate factory, pretending I'm a superior human being, spitting on the bums with their disgusting clothes who perched next to garbage among the vermin. No no, not me. I knew what I was when I drank red wine. I was the vermin who lurked in the rotten alleyways and peered through blind eyes at the golden glow above, the golden glow filled with frocks and frills that caused me to shake with fury. How dare you have more than I, how dare you dress so clean so fresh and never have lived a life as I. You don't know what it's all about. You've not the slightest idea of what it means to be alive, to be human. See when I drank red wine, it wasn't to be used as a numbing agent to suppress the horror story that is life; it was to encourage that feeling, to put a heavy emphasis on the depressive nature of existing; to feel the beautiful, relentless truth of our society. Everything would come rushing in, and with tears streaming down my face I'd drift away to the songs of the other lost souls; Social Distortion, Days n Daze, Johnny Cash.
By Michael O'Connor2 years ago in Confessions
Algorithm of Emotions
Algorithm of emotions does not exist. What I mean is, what we feel isn't not the same as following a ruleset to define what we must feel if conditions are met. I ruled the day that I would be overruled. To meet someone like me was to meet someone old and not new. You came at random and I dispute your own catfish, your friends disregarded, the goals you had was not mine to share. So much alike that we are actually different. You hated chocolate while I was indifferent. You saw the world as a need for order. Do things your way because it's better and causes no torture. To imagine that I had a future with someone I had fun with, became open and communicative so nobody can plead the fifth. Finally able to think for myself and to be, or so I thought.
By The Kind Quill2 years ago in Confessions
Excuses
Confession: I make excuses🙈 I know shocking right? This morning I made too many to count. I excused myself from waking up by hitting the alarm clock and continuing to make every excuse I could think of to just get five more minutes of sleep. I excused myself from drinking water— and said “but I need caffeine to wake myself up”. I reasoned myself into 3 cinnamon rolls instead of one—because “hey I mean I never cook cinnamon rolls before school anyway, so today will be a special treat. Let’s not forget the BIG excuse I made as to why I didn’t do the dishes last night.
By Natalie Stover2 years ago in Confessions
Isolated
Nothing's satisfying anymore Not bourbon, not arguments, not masturbating, not a great movie, only the morning coffee and cigarette. There's no relief or release anymore, we're nothing but stuck, without the hope of a road trip, or the wish of a gold coin.
By Michael O'Connor2 years ago in Confessions
My Year of Strength and Stability
I have always been one to have many goals and dreams. I have a million and one hobbies and a dream for every single one. From writing and reading to painting and drawing to pole-dancing and gymming to baking and volunteering, I have so many interests and passions that it's hard to keep track. And the dreams: I have a dream to hang a painting in an art exhibit, to publish a novel and to finally figure out how to bake scones (the last hold out) without burning them.
By Jaimie2 years ago in Confessions
Am I Not Miserable Enough?
Introduction I think I have touched this several times, and, as always I can take a sentence and turn it into a few hundred words of ideas to take people on a guided tour of what is going on inside my head (though some would say not very much).
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 years ago in Confessions
Figuring Me Out
This is hard work, harder than it looks. I’ve known myself for forty years and I’m still unsure of who I am. What do I like? What do I prefer? What is my true personality? I can honestly say I’m not sure. One thing is certain, I must figure it out now before my time runs out. Over the last year I have slowly come to realize that everything I am has been chosen to please others. It’s not really anybody else’s fault, they could care less, the problem is me and my worry about what others might think. For as long as I can remember, I have been choosing not to stand out. I have purposely chosen to keep myself as muted as possible, except for my writing of course. In everything else in my life I have kept myself as neutral as possible. I realize now that the reason I have chosen to be as neutral as possible is because I believe that this is what will keep me safe.
By Lily2 years ago in Confessions
Gratitude in Heartbreak: Finding Strength and Wisdom in Unanswered Love
In the quiet aftermath of our unraveling, where the echoes of promises once spoken lingered like delicate whispers, I discovered a profound gratitude for the unexpected turns life took. The bitterness of unchosen paths began to dissolve, replaced by a clarity that only time and introspection can bring. As the days turned into nights, I found solace in the wisdom that not being chosen by you was indeed a blessing in disguise.
By Blaise2 years ago in Confessions
