success
The road to success is always under construction; share your equations for success — and learn some new ones.
My Little Black Book
It was a gift from my mother on my 11th birthday. She had watched me scribble music lyrics and poetry into worn out notepads for years. I couldn't play an instrument, but I'd hum what I thought the song should sound like while words flowed out through my pencil and onto whatever paper was near. She must have been tired of picking up post-its and bringing them to me. I'm sure that's why she thought to give a young girl this gift.
By Shea Montiel5 years ago in Motivation
Three Tips for Being Successful
I’ve been thinking a lot about success lately. By most people’s definition, I would be considered a failure. I didn’t finish college, I’m not working a traditional 9-5, I’ve never run a business that actually made any money, I’m not a part of any thriving friend groups (or friend groups at all for that matter.) I have a bad haircut, am out of shape, and am exhausted most of the time. I don’t consider myself a failure, though. I consider myself very successful. My thought process on success has drastically changed over the past year. How could it not?
By Sara Sublette5 years ago in Motivation
Throwing Stars by Joshua Aikens
hrowing As I layed there on the beach listening to the sounds of waves roll onto the sand, I stared up into the bright blue sky. I could feel the heat of the sun warm my body. The sound of a gull coming closer from distance, kind of scared me.
By Joshua Aikens5 years ago in Motivation
Almost A Spy
"What am I getting myself into here?", I think as I sit waiting for my flight. I'm headed to the East coast, specifically Baltimore. There I'll be undergoing a job interview. Normally I'm not nervous about job interviews. I've certainly had plenty, with my work history. I've done everything from being a bag boy in a grocery store, my first ever job, to working for a family friend as a travel agent planning road-trips in the days before everyone had GPS at their fingertips, to spraying ant and wasp nests as a pest control guy that one summer I wanted to live by the beach in San Diego. Yes, job interviews are a cakewalk at this point, but I have a hunch this one may be a little different. You see, I'm going to an interview to become a spy.
By Gary Bunker5 years ago in Motivation
Legacy of Centuries
The icicles, elegant and glistening, cast prisms around the neighbor’s windows on that cold midwestern morning. Barbara Hartley stood at the kitchen sink, holding a steaming teacupful of black gourmet coffee, which she carefully budgeted to last through the dreary Wisconsin winter. The coffee was a Christmas gift from her daughter and husband and Barbara savored the rich, earthy drink as one would any sacred indulgence. Barbara stared out the window at the frozen stalactites, slowly dripping in the morning sun. She smiled, thinking of her daughter, Stacy, and her husband Todd, living in Chicago. Barbara felt relief that her daughter got out of this small town, and moved where life is vibrant, happy, and exciting.
By Julianna Leber Wilmoth5 years ago in Motivation
The Price to Pay
It all started with a little black notebook. Covered with a leather exterior that resembled the smell of a brand new car. Laying on the store shelves waiting to be bought by a journalist or maybe a poet that has been searching for their new muse. Any person who was to grab that little black notebook had no idea what was to be of their old life after purchasing it. So as the notebook sat there on the shelf, collecting dust and getting dodged by every other customer coming through the story, there stood Emily. Emily was an employee at the bookstore, only working part-time as she aspires to be an author some day. She only took this job so she could gather enough money to find a publisher to publish her very own book she had been working on for years. Though she had hit a roadblock in her writing and could not find an ending to her novel, writer's block they call it. Emily knew she had to do something about her writer's block but had no solution or hope. One day after the book store closed, Emily stayed back to empty the shelves to make room for new inventory. As she was clearing the journal/notebook section, the whole store started shaking, books were falling off the shelves and the alarms were set off. It was an earthquake, they are actually pretty common in the state of California but normally you barely feel them. This earthquake however, was only an M4 so it did not cause too much damage to the state. Though it did fright Emily and her fellow co-workers, and it made the inventory process twice as long. As Emily was picking up the fallen notebooks, she noticed a black leather notebook laying open with the number $20, 000 written across the pages in bold font. Confused, Emily attempted to cautiously pick up the notebook only to pass right through the book like it was thin air. Instead, she came out holding a wad of cash that counted $20, 000. "This can't be real", Emily whispered to herself. She had no idea how this was even possible, she didn't know what to do. "I need to turn this in", she thought, "but if I do they'll ask me where I got it and then I'll be brought in to questioning, and I can't do that!", she debated. Puzzled, Emily decided to put the cash in her book bag, along with the notebook. She hurried home and in hopes to find some answers to this out of the world mystery. Emily dumped the money onto her kitchen table and found that it had doubled the amount since leaving the bookstore. She now had $20, 000, Emily felt bad, she felt as though she had stolen this money from someone she doesn't even know. The guilt was swallowing her as she contemplated what to do with the cash she has come into contact with. She spent all night searching for any clue to where this money could have come from but couldn't find anything even closely relating to her situation. As she was doing so from her living room sofa, she saw a glowing light coming from the kitchen. "Oh great, what is it now?!", exhausted, Emily hesitantly made her way into the kitchen to see the notebook wide open with it's pages flipping back and forth while shining this bright beam of light from the pages. She went to go close it only to see a faint memory of herself in the last previous months. "I'm sorry but we aren't able to help you." a secretary of a publishing office spoke to Emily. "But you don't understand, I've worked so hard on this, you, you can't just turn me away!" Emily cried, "I'm sorry but we aren't able to publish an author that doesn't have an agent to represent them.", said the secretary. "I have never even heard of that ridiculous rule!", Emily cried but fading away. Back to reality, Emily slammed the little black notebook shut in disbelief. "It...it...it can't be...a...a...a notebook giving me the chance to finally get what I want!", screamed Emily. She immediately started writing her last chapter, "Finally," she thought, "finally I have the material to finish my novel!". Emily spent sleepless nights working on finding the perfect words to go into her final chapter. Hours turned into days turned into weeks, she didn't stop working until it was done, "Perfect!!", she yelled in relief. Emily finally finished her novel, though what she did not know was that the $20, 000 that came from the little black notebook was not simply just given to her. What Emily did not know was that she would have to give up her recognition of being the author of what would be soon the #1 selling book in America. To be continued…
By Kayla Froese5 years ago in Motivation
The Tranquillity of Coffee, and the Impossibility of Chance
We are in a slightly alternate version of Brooklyn, on the first Tuesday of March 2021, in what seems to be a quaint plant-draped café. The café is full of patrons, all mingling with each other as if it were March 2019. In one corner, right next to the coffee machines and a profusion of potted and trailing plants, hides one relatively unremarkable girl. We drift on into her head.
By Tristyn Faith5 years ago in Motivation
Can't buy me dreams
A young man had been walking around the city looking for a job. After walking all day without any success in his search, he sat down underneath the shade of a tree. He brought with himself some papers, his inseparable black notebook, and a few dollars that were left in his pocket. It had been another long day and the sun was almost setting. Someone suddenly approached him:
By Julia5 years ago in Motivation
Shattered
You see I look back and I don’t even wonder, if it was the right thing to happen, the universe be steady making magic. Running out to find the dolphins, Kiawe in my heel, no problem. Pnematocysts stabbing into my side, this certainly wasn’t a time to cry or ask why. Cetaceans on the horizon in my mind. Often times you can’t hear it inside your human mind, but the universe is crying out, “Slow down, and look around, something about to go down”. Figure creeping in the shadows of the trees, certainly a bright green car wouldn’t make a fool out of me. Too many people here, wouldn’t somebody hear? Took note of the shadow and his car, by the time I’d return, they’d have teleported far as the nearest star. Plus, I’d locked my gear and black book of soul secrets away safely in the trunk of my car. Or so I’d have thunk, except I was drunk, on ocean passion making magic. Dive gear in hand, swimming out to a foreign liquid land. Warning signs crying out from the trees and the bees of the sea. Can’t hear them over the infinite aquatic bliss in my midst. I’m here to wash the modernization from my skin and bones, diving deep into the ocean zone. The salty liquid crests over me, I can hardly remember the shadowy figure that made my sub conscious quiver. Like a rising river, it’s hard to make sense of the tension of intention. Undulating through the bright blue reflections in natures sea of action. The pleasant squeaks of my cetaceanic peeps creep deep into the drums of my ears. Oceanic lullaby could drift a thousand infants to sleep. The pod undulates together like the petals of Earth’s first flower, unquantifiable power of expression flowing through my solar plexus. The hydrodynamic force flows over me like a subsea waterfall running down my back. My smile goes wild, I sigh and thank the universe for such magical brothers and sisters as we play for hours. My ears perk themselves up, one of my new friends has found something in the muck. The entire pod flocks over, I whip my head over my shoulder. Never have I seen dolphins take an interest in the sand, like there was something, buried deep within. I surface for air and quickly descend down into the turbid sandy flare. They have certainly found something, I can hear them chirping back and forth, mumbling. A coucil of sorts, deciding if I am worthy of the plunder they unearthed. Out of the dust, a small spinner comes up. Holding in his teeth, a small black brief. What could be in the case? Impatient and excited, I click open the latches, the particulates flutter down, I can see clearly now. Looked like a clean green twenty stacks of hundreds. Benjamin staring back at me, can it really be? There is a note inside, “Don’t ask why, just change your life, in any way that you’d like.” I’m in disbelief, why me, why now, and how? I thank my gentle toothed friends with a bow and a quick bit of the leaf game. Heading back to shore, case in hand, ready to break the surface tension and return to land. Ecstasy rushing over me, I can still hardly believe. Why me? I thanked God, the universe, the dolphins, and myself, grinning like a little elf. Feet on the sand, head in the trees, feeling a bit weak in the knees. I take my time returning to my whip as the water drips.
By Louis5 years ago in Motivation
A Mysterious Black Book
This tale of mystery begins with a mansion behind an iron gate, on a hill. It is a luxurious home, not dissimilar from the home of the Orson Wells character Citizen Kane. This being said, its appearances, both external and internal, were more similar to those of the Gatsby mansion from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. The resident of this mysterious dwelling was a man whose past life, and its corresponding circumstances, was an enigma to many. Although his real name was unknown to the majority of the citizenry in his area, he had the alias of Mr. Midas, owing to the fact that, like the king in ancient Greek mythology, he had a penchant for gold, and generally, for the finer things in life. This was a moniker given to him by the locals of his relatively small, though abundantly wealthy city. It was a fitting nickname, given that his palatial place of living dwarfed the nearby houses in the adjacent neighborhood. Reclusive though he was, Mr. Midas was not above occasional contact with the world outside his home. He would of course go shopping for his daily needs, primarily the basic necessities that humans and other animals need to live, namely water and food. He usually dressed in run of the mill clothing when he was outside.
By Andrew Gracianette5 years ago in Motivation
