#also the month of endless prompt lists. why are there so many? i feel overwhelmed.

[bearforceone3]

girl whose superpower is immediately sending you to super hell

[joheun-saram]

otsukare sama deshita (sope)

Summary- Hoseok knows the perfect partner for his new song, but will Yoongi agree?

word count- 1.6k

pairing- Hoseok x Yoongi (platonic)

rating- G

genre- friendship, fluff, slight angst (not really)

warnings- none

a.n- HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAN!!! 🥳 I wrote this as a birthday present for @eternalseokjin but in typical mars fashion, i was late. I hope you enjoy my first mxm fic. this is my take on how hobi convinced yoongi to perform with him. when i floated this idea on the net people thought it was gonna be a crack fic, but honestly i think yoongi respects hobi too much to protest a lot lol

A huge shoutout to @hoebii​ and @hobisbeautifulass​ for beta reading this! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

perm taglist- @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi

-

Hoseok was excited. In fact, he was beyond excited. He had spent the Japanese tour leg writing a song that he felt was the perfect mix of goofy and talent, if he could say so himself. A cheerful, optimistic song that portrayed his J-Hope persona to a T. He knew it wasn’t going to go in any of the albums; he had told his fellow co-writers in Japan as much, but he just knew that ARMY would love it as soon as he unveiled it. The only thing that would make it better would be if he could get a certain friend of his to join in on the antics. A certain grumpy friend that sat across from him zoning out as he sipped his iced Americano, even though it was close to 10pm.

“Hyung, can I run something by you?” Hosoek asked, feigning an air of nonchalance, as he rolled his chair closer to the couch Yoongi was sprawled on. He rested his feet against the cushions, leaning back against the chair, his fingers drumming against the arm rests. He didn’t want to admit it but he was a little nervous. Chances were that Yoongi would agree to his proposition; he was usually very easy going and enjoyed the fanservice that they partook in. However, lately Yoongi had been pretty stressed, short tempered and tired, snapping at everyone. He hadn’t shared why, but Hoseok felt it was something personal that he didn’t want to pry on. 

Hoseok’s voice broke Yoongi out of his thoughts as he looked up to the brightly dressed man in front of him. He mirrored the frown on Hoseok’s face as he hummed for him to continue. Yoongi would never admit it, but he was in no mood for a conversation; his head running through the overwhelmingly long to-do list he had to accomplish before the end of tomorrow. The longer he looked at Hoseok sitting in silence, the deeper his frown got. What was he so fidgety for? It was putting him on edge, not to mention adding to his stress.

“Spit it out, Hobah,” he snapped, sighing a little in frustration as Hoseok cleared his throat tentatively. 

“Well… I wrote this song. I was wondering if you wanted to perform together.” That’s it? Hoseok just wanted to perform a song together? What was the big deal about that?

“Yeah okay. Sure,” Yoongi acquiesced easily, much to Hoseok’s surprise. Hoseok’s face broke into a large grin, one that brought a small smile on the older rapper’s face. 

“Promise?” Hoseok asked, almost bouncing excitedly. Yoongi furrowed his brows suspiciously, knowing that there was no way he was this giddy about a simple duet. Something had to be up.

“You’re making me rethink this…” Yoongi said as he looked over the rim of the plastic coffee cup in his hand, missing his mouth with the straw before capturing it with his lips with a huff and an eye roll. Hoseok chuckled at the action before continuing.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! I can just imagine ARMY’s excitement! A Sope unit song!” Hoseok radiated enthusiasm, lifting Yoongi’s spirits as well as the corners of his mouth. He really was a ball of energy sometimes, his excitement almost contagious as he never failed to energize Yoongi, even when all he wanted to do was crawl in bed and sleep his life away.

“Fine. Let me hear it first,” Yoongi said with a snicker, eager to hear the masterpiece his friend had created. He couldn’t help shaking his head with a smile as Hoseok excitedly stood up, almost hopping to the computer to play the track. Yoongi smiled as the track played, habitually fidgeting with his lip in concentration.

To say it was different than any of the songs Hoseok had penned before was an understatement. Yoongi expected vibrant beats and spunky lyrics like the tracks Hoseok had consulted with him on for his future mixtape but this song was a rollercoaster, a tongue-in-cheek trot song of optimism. He smiled as the track played on, Hoseok’s cheerful vocals a perfect fit for the atmosphere it created. As the chorus played again, Yoongi couldn’t help but sing along to the catchy words under his breath. An action not missed by Hoseok, whose smile only got wider.

As the song came to an end, Yoongi felt his mood lightened, the song already stuck in his head. Hoseok hadn’t written many songs alone before and he felt proud of his friend’s accomplishment. “It’s good. Good job, Hoseok!” Yoongi complimented, a gummy smile on his face.

“Thanks!” Hoseok sang out, his smile quickly replaced by his professional straight face as he continued on with the details of the collaboration, which part Yoongi would sing and the vibe he would add. Yoongi found himself easily agreeing with him. He could do with a fun project, and to be completely honest he was ready to record it as soon as the month was over. However, this thought was brought to a screeching halt as the next words left Hoseok’s lips. 

“So I was thinking we reveal it at the Japan fan meeting.” Yoongi’s eyes widened at the comment. *Was he serious?

“The one in two weeks?” Yoongi’s momentarily forgotten stress was back with full force, and he bit his nail. He had so many things on his plate that adding a song that he would not only have to record, but learn the dance and words to *within the next fortnight made his chest clench uneasily. He always had a hard time saying no to Hoseok but the more he thought about the endless things he had to work through, the easier it became. “Absolutely not.”

“Hyungnim!” Hoseok stretched the syllables cutely in a whine to appeal to his older member. He knew behind all the apathy Yoongi had a soft spot for him and it was not beyond him to use it to his advantage. He jumped from his chair next to Yoongi, an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders as he tried to get him as excited as he was. “The theme to Hwagae Market! We’ll wear cheesy suits and goof around! Come on! It’d be fun!”

Yoongi knew Hoseok was just being his usual self, but he felt slightly suffocated. Shrugging his arm off, Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on knees as he rubbed his face with a groan. He missed the way Hoseok frowned, certain now that something was bothering his friend. Before he could prod for details, Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know, Hoseok. Fuck. I’m just so stressed. I don’t know if I can take something else on right now.” Yoongi looked at him, a silent plea hidden in his eyes that made Hoseok’s heart tighten in empathy. He knew all about being overly stressed. It would be a lie to say the life they had chosen was easy and smooth sailing. 

Hoseok always tried to keep a professional distance between his members, not wanting to overwhelm them when they had to spend so much time together by obligation. He always felt he was prying if he asked about their personal lives or struggles, but he also knew that Yoongi never brought up something unless he wanted to share. He just needed a push.

“You wanna talk about it?” Hoseok asked, placing his hand on Yoongi’s knee, trying to coax the rapper into conversation.

“I don’t know…” Yoongi began, but it didn’t take him long to delve into his problems. There was something about Hoseok that always led him to open up without feeling the guilt he sometimes did when sharing his feelings. Although Hoseok was usually loud and energetic, when prompted he was quiet and a great listener. Just looking at his face stoic in concentration made Yoongi feel as if what he was saying truly mattered, regardless if it was a useless rant about work stress that Hoseok himself had. 

It was close to midnight by the time the two had wrapped up their heart to heart, empty beer bottles and half eaten dishes of sundae and tteokbokki cluttering the coffee table in front of them. Hoseok hadn’t expected Yoongi to open up to him the way he did, but he was glad to shoulder his burden with him. There was a reason he was closest with the introverted producer in the group; he seemed to make everything Hoseok said seem important, like it had substance, be it a stupid joke that Yoongi laughed at the loudest, or advice that he could’ve gotten off an Instagram inspiration page. 

By the time they packed to make their way to the dorms, Hoseok felt almost bad for adding to Yoongi’s work load, but the dark haired man would have none of it.

“Nah, Hobi. We’re doing it,” Yoongi said, his voice stern and determined.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asked, as he climbed into the passenger seat of Yoongi’s car, stuffing his backpack between his legs before strapping on his seatbelt. “It was a random idea. We don’t have to. I can table this song for next year.”

“No. It will be fun. ARMY will love it,” Yoongi replied, placing an arm on the back of Hoseok’s headrest as he turned to reverse out of the parking space, before driving out of the underground lot. “It’s a really good song, Hobi. Proud of you, man.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but chuckle at the earnest praise, feeling instantly shy. He was right though, he realized as he walked off the stage two weeks later, high on adrenaline with a huge grin on his face. His expression was mirrored on Yoongi’s face who clapped him on the back, panting hard.

“Sope des!” Yoongi joked, still laughing at how great the performance went, taking off the shiny sequined coat.

“Sope des!” echoed the rest of the boys cheerfully before rushing towards the stage, as Hoseok laughed putting on the jacket for the next performance.

-

Like this? Check out my other works.

[beatrice-otter]

Fic: Light a Mourner's Candle (Goblin Emperor, Maia)

My last fic I wrote for Yuletide was also a treat. I was planning on writing more--I had the time!--just not the inspiration or desire. Still, I'm happy with what I got done.  Also, my betas Gammarad and Samson were a great help, especially with sorting out pronouns and such. Title: Light a Mourner's Candle Fandom: The Goblin Emperor Author: beatrice_otter  Written for: bethynyc  in Yuletide 2019 Betaed by: Gammarad and Samson Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1859 Summary: The Archprelate finds a chaplain for Maia. At AO3.  Dreamwidth. Pillowfort.

Maia had attempted to meditate for, oh, a long time, the night before, and had achieved nothing more than frustration and greater nerves than he had had when he started. His disquiet was stupid, and he knew it was stupid. Whatever cleric the Archprelate had chosen would surely count it a great honor to be appointed the first chaplain an Emperor of the Elflands had had in several generations, and would court his favor. If the chaplain the archprelate found for him displeased Maia in any way, it would be a simple matter to have him replaced. Maia would not even have to tell him directly, merely ask Csevet, and Maia need never see him again.

Maia took hold of his thoughts as firmly as he could. It is absurd to assume that thy new chaplain will displease thee before thou hast even met him, he told himself. Archprelate Teru Tethimar had supported Maia since his coronation, and been kind to him, and was a man of intelligence and devotion to his calling, from everything Maia knew of him. Even were he a man of worse character than he seemed, he would not wish to squander the opportunity of placing a cleric so highly in the Untheileneise Court. Everything would go well. Maia should not assume trouble before it happened.

And yet, Maia was painfully aware that his religious training had ended at the age of eight, with his mother's death. What he knew had sustained his mind and soul through all the endless petty cruelties of Edonomee, but it was paltry indeed compared to what an adult ought to know.

It was fortunate that his day was as busy as always, and so he had little time to dwell on the matter. The Archprelate had sent word the day before that he had selected a chaplain and asked when would be convenient to make the introduction; Csevet had suggested a time the next day where a previous appointment had been cancelled. And so Maia had had little time to fret.

The Archprelate was punctual, and brought the prospective chaplain with him.

Maia scarcely noticed the formalities of greeting and introduction, so surprised was he at the chaplain's appearance. Archprelate Tethimar had promised a cleric experienced in the Barizheise rites; Maia had not expected an actual Goblin . But no, given his bone structure and his name, there must be Elvish in him; he was merely very dark-skinned. The Ethuveraz court will whisper about thee, and thy goblin superstition, and thy hobgoblin soothsayer , Maia thought, and the voice in his head sounded very much like Setheris.

"Mer Dulcar," Maia said, his voice sounding thin in his own ears. "We thank you for your service."

"The honor is mine, Serenity," Mer Dulcar said with an accent as smooth and polished as any elf.

The Archprelate then gave a listing of all Mer Dulcar's qualifications and history: degrees from the university here in Cetho and a seminary in Barizhan that was apparently quite prestigious, posts in prestigious Othasmeires in both Barizhan and the Ethuveraz. Commendations and recommendations from people he had served as spiritual director for, or given counsel to, some of whose names Maia recognized as important personages. He seemed to have been a very busy man.

At last the Archprelate finished his presentation of Mer Dulcar's credentials and took his leave, sweeping out with Csevet in his wake, and Maia was alone with Mer Dulcar and his nohecharei.

Maia knew that, as Emperor, it was his privilege and duty to begin the conversation, but he could not think of a single thing to say. Cat got thy tongue, hobgoblin? His internal monologue had not sounded so much like Setheris in many months. But then, Setheris had always been particularly harsh when it came to Maia's practices of religion. He had learned to speak as little about his spiritual practices as possible, but that habit would be broken today.

"So, Serenity," Mer Dulcar said, when Maia did not speak. "I am at your disposal. I know you wanted a chaplain familiar with the Barizheise practice, but is there any particular aspect that you wish further guidance in? Or anything you would like to discuss, anything weighing on your heart? I am, of course, bound by oaths of silence; I may not share anything you tell me with another, unless you give me leave to do so."

He was probably trying to make Maia more at ease by using the informal first person to refer to himself. If Maia were even a hair less on edge, it would probably be welcome. "We … we do not know what it is exactly a chaplain does," Maia said miserably, acutely aware that he had not had to expose his ignorance before a stranger so nakedly since his first day in the Ethuveraz, when Csevet had had to explain all his correspondence to him. Even during those first few weeks with the Corazhas, he had had Csevet's explanations to give some context.

Mer Dulcar shrugged. "A chaplain can do many things, depending on what it is you want and need, Serenity. Theological education and discussion, performance of private rites, spiritual and moral guidance and coaching, counsel for the heart and mind, training in the spiritual disciplines: these are the more common aspects of a chaplain's duties."

Maia nodded when he paused, to show he was listening. "All of those sound … acceptable," he said cautiously, overwhelmed by all the possibilities he had been longing for. They were more than acceptable, and were it not for Setheris's iron training he could not have maintained his composure. His gut was churning, and it was no little frustration that he could not sort out what he felt, or whether he wanted to laugh or cry.

"Are there any that seem particularly pressing, to you?" Mer Dulcar asked.

Maia shook his head helplessly. "We … do not know enough to know which is most pressing," he said at last.

"Mm," Mer Dulcar said. His face was open with compassion, and his ears had not so much as twitched at Maia's ignorance, for which Maia was deeply grateful. "Well, then. Perhaps the best place to start is by telling me about yourself—what training and spiritual formation you have received, what practices and disciplines best suit you and which do not, and what experiences you have had in matters of religion."

"When I was a child in Isvaroë, I prayed and meditated with my mother," Maia said. "As I grew older, we spent a great deal of time in the Othasmeire, as my ability to sit still increased." He bit his lip. It had also been because, as his mother's health worsened, there was little she could do but sit and meditate, but he could not bring himself to share so personal a detail with a person he had just met. He realized he had slipped into the informal first person without realizing it; intimacy on Dulcar's part prompting a like intimacy of his own.

Yet it seemed somehow right, to use a child's pronouns and informality when discussing his childhood. In any case, Mer Dulcar showed no shock at Maia's intimacy. "Ah," said Mer Dulcar. "And I would imagine that even now, when you meditate, you feel close to her."

Maia felt his cheeks warm and blessed his dark coloring. "I know that such sentimentality is not what meditation is for , and I should not—"

"Serenity," Dulcar said gently, "it does not make your meditation less profound, or less devout, to have such a motive. There is no harm in it, and if it nourishes your soul in other ways besides the ineffable, so much the better. We do not exist only for the gods' sake, and neither do our meditations."

Maia stared at him, mouth open, aware on some level that he looked every inch the moon-witted hobgoblin Setheris had so often named him, and yet not able to care. "It was the only thing of our mother that we could keep," he whispered, "besides a pair of earrings she had given us. All the rest of her things—and our things—were taken from us when she died, and we were sent to Edonomee."

"Oh, Serenity," Dulcar said, face open with … pity? Compassion?

"And then at Edonomee, our cousin Setheris who had charge of us … was much of our father's opinion of religion in general and the Barizheise forms of it specifically," Maia said. "He wished us to cease what he called superstition."

"And in so doing, took away your connection with your mother," Dulcar said softly. "Serenity, that was very cruel of him."

"Yes," Maia said, blinking back tears. He had always known Setheris was cruel, of course; how could he not? And yet, he had always known, too, that his opinion of it did not matter, and few would agree with him. But here was affirmation of the sort he had dreamed of, when a lonely, heart-sick boy at Edonomee.

He could not keep back the tears, and they spilled out of him against his will. Blinking, he stared up at the ceiling, struggling for composure. He had not cried at his mother's funeral, so why, now, so many years later, could he not manage the same restraint?

"Serenity, may I hold your hand?" Dulcar asked.

Maia nodded, not trusting his voice, and clutched at the cleric's hand when he was offered it. They sat there, in silence, as Maia's tears trickled out. Dulcar's hand was warm in his, and he gently stroked the back of Maia's hand with his thumb. It was … soothing, and Maia was abruptly aware of how few people touched him, in the course of his daily routine. His edocharei might touch him briefly, lightly, in the course of dressing and undressing him, and he clasped hands and arms and shoulders with Csethiro in their dance lessons (and even, sometimes, put his hand at her waist for an eight-count), but this was different. There was no need or purpose to it besides comfort, and he found that meant more to him than he could put words to.

When Maia was done crying, he found that Cala had crept up beside him and laid a handkerchief on the table for him.

"Thank you," Maia said, taking it, using it as much to hide his face as to dry his tears. What a fool he must have looked! But his nohecharei were on his side, and, if not friends, at least trustworthy and non-judgmental; and Dulcar did not seem to hold it against him, either.

"I should ask," Dulcar said when Maia finally looked back at him, "whether you wish to speak Ethuverazhin or Barizhin. I do not imagine you have many opportunities for speaking your mother's tongue."

"I— We do not know it," Maia said. "Our mother was forbidden from teaching us of her homeland."

Dulcar took in a deep, slow breath, and let it out. "Serenity," he said at last, "if you wish to learn, I can teach you."

Maia twisted the handkerchief in his hands. "I think … I would like that," he said.

[evangelineartemiasamos]

Red Queen Secret Santa 2018 for Rhia @redqueenfandom <3

A/N: A modern AU, a sequel to the ones I wrote before. I wanted to place this in Paris at first, but then I thought I should rather write about a place where I’ve been to – although my memories aren’t that perfect^^° I’m sorry for eventual inaccuracies.

A New Place

Growing Up

The Dinner

Roman Holiday

The Wedding

FInd this on Wattpad and on AO3

Roman Holiday

Mare POV

It’s eleven in the evening when I can call it a day on christmas eve. I put away my apron and slip into my coat and scarf and step outside of the café and onto the streets of Rome, bright with lights, filled with people, bells sounding over me.

Astounding that I hardly need the coat, despite the time and season. But this is a warm place, making it even more of a magnet for tourists coming to flee the winter or to experience christmas surrounded by supposedly more holiness than at home, wherever it is.

I’m not sure whether I should call myself one of them. I’m still a foreigner like them, frequently overwhelmed by Rome’s grandeur and age and visiting its endless sights. But then again, I make my living by serving tourists currently.

Four months into my gap year, I’m spending the winter in Italy, working as a help or assistant in various institutions, first in the cheaper countryside, now in the capital. I was tempted to see the festive spectacle, to be honest, that I’m putting up the higher costs of coming here. Fortunately, my room is affordable enough, but nothing I’d like to stay in for longer than a few days for that price. I knew what I was getting into, I guess, so I’m here to make an experience of it.

Truly, it is one. The ancientness of the city, the marks of history and art everywhere, often pull at my suspension of disbelief until I can take it for real. The more I stay, I’m starting to wonder if I’ll normalize the marvels one moment, no longer able to take it all in as much as it deserves. But I don’t intend to stay that long. I’m here to travel and see the world, and my next stations are waiting. Because for all its greatness, Rome’s also tiring, exhausting me.

There’s a price for a year of travelling, and that is hard, ever-shifting, and often boring work. It isn’t difficult to find jobs when you’re a native English and Spanish speaker in places full of tourists. Interpreters are good to have and I’ve a talent for languages, so my Italian improves by the day. The café I currently work at seems to have mostly foreign customers talking English, but to encounter the barriers of languages, from one foreigner to another, leaves a strange impression. Words get jumbled and guesses have to be made all the time and I try to smile away the stress. I hope that eases the work as well as raise my tips.

Although I’ve understood the processes of applying and have some reserves at hand by now, a consequence of the gap year is a constant worry of having nothing when I wake up next. It can eat at you no matter what, having to rely on yourself alone this much, but then again, it’s also the freedom I’ve craved. Whatever I do, I achieve it by myself. I can be proud of that. Doesn’t that mean I can manage everything?

Yet, it also means that often, I’m terribly alone. To be here, I’ve left behind my home, my friends, and my family. Now I’m meeting strangers every day, of whom each might become a new friend if I gave them the chance. It’s hard, the enduring newness of people and everything else. I can’t open myself up to them all the time, re-introduce myself and every part of me, can’t bring up the energy to translate all of their conversations in my head to take part in them. Thus, I frequently fall into myself and rest alone at the end of a long day full of work.

Tonight is such a time, or could be. It’s still christmas, but the loud and lively shift has destroyed pretty much of my festive mood. This is nothing like my little girl christmases and their inherent childhood magic. This is noise and exhaustion and unfamiliarity. It’s a feeling pulling me off the ground and I’m not willing to give in to it.

The streets around me roar as I scout for a quieter spot where I can sit down. Not easy to find here, as many are already taken, or dirty, or prohibited so traffic isn’t disturbed. But finally, I find a free building block close to the Pantheon. I get down on it and take a deep breath of the night air, letting my body relax as good as possible.

It’s not far from St. Peter where the greatest crowd will celebrate and if I weren’t so tired, I might go there to watch them, to get my own image of it. Shade would be offended to hear about this, as he’s always keen on calling out the catholic church and the pope especially. But I’d welcome his rant if I saw him in person again, like the rest of my family. I miss them so much, and curse once more my decision to stay abroad during christmas. The loneliness is cruel on this day, and the only thing I can do is getting my phone out and looking over their pictures and messages again. I do so every day and send replies back, but I delayed this today, hoped not thinking about them and being unaware about what I’m missing would make my shift more tolerable. That didn’t really work out. I just had a bad day that went to waste while everyone else around me is having fun.

So now I can be lonely while watching my family celebrating christmas. Tramy sells christmas trees and presents the fairy tale-like winter wonderland of the garden center he works at. Bree is with his girlfriend, both grinning and likely slightly inebriated, when Kilorn crashes their photos. Shade, despite his atheist statements, put outfits on his baby daughter Clara that make her look like an elf of Santa Claus and he stands arms in arm with Clara and Diana under a mistletoe that hangs over their door. In another, Diana, seriously studying an important-looking book, wears a silly blinking cap on her head, and in a second photo she hugs Clara besottedly as if in ignorance of a photo being taken.

Mom and Dad are similarly in love with their first grandchild and have tons of pictures with her, of Dad keeping her from crawling into the Christmas tree, or of Bree holding her up to pull on a pinata.

Gisa shines in these photos, too. Even on casual days, her outfits leave me so awed and envious of her style full of details and perfection achieved by her own ideas and efforts. One time, she’s wearing a black dress, a ball dress I almost think, and she looks so gorgeous in it that I don’t know whether to adore her or to be scared of her.

I sniff and swipe tears from my eyes. When I look back to the screen, my contacts are shown. My fingers must’ve slipped and I scroll back to find my family again, as I still have to send greetings and wishes. It’s christmas after all, and since it’s still afternoon over there, it must the perfect time for messages. Maybe even a call. Yes, I should make a call. Yet I stop searching when I see another name on the list.

Cal.

His profile photo seems to smile at me, and I feel myself smiling back at him automatically. At the boy I dated a few times back in the States. The silly, rich, hot and kind Cal who’d muttered something about christmas in Italy back then. How decadent, I thought. And now I’m actually here. I can’t resist the temptation and text “hey” to him.

“Merry christmas!” he texts back. “My parents wanted to visit the holy night in Rome and now we’re watching from our hotel balcony. Can you believe?” Added is a photo of the crowd on St. Peter.

I can’t help grinning like an utter fool.

“Guess what …” I write to him.

I drop hints for him about where to find me, not really expecting him to show up. Why should he, when he’s with his family on christmas eve? And yet, between messaging my family and joking with Kilorn about food, I glance over my appearance in more than one mirror or window to make sure I have nothing in my face.

I’m right at replying to Kilorn’s snarks when I almost bounce into someone. I’m fast enough to get out of reach, but make myself ready to rant back if necessary.

Light falls on his face, and I, silly me, recognize him as Cal, who’s really come to meet with me in the middle of the holy night.

“Merry christmas again, Mare,” he says.

I hesitate. I tuck my hair behind my ears nervously and chew on my lip as I look for words and my composure. But when I see his face, beaming with excitement, I laugh out loud and he laughs along with me. I go to him and in a blink, I stand before him and give him a hug. A friendly one, like I’d hug everyone, yet I don’t let go, and neither does he. I pull him closer, my hands pressing into his back as I step on my toes to kiss his – stubby – cheek and whisper “merry christmas,” into his ear.

He returns the kiss on the cheek.

And then he kisses me on the mouth.

It’s a surprise for both of us, but we don’t stop. Does it mean anything? Or is it just fun? He might be drunk although I’m not, only tired and in need of warmth and a familiar human body close to me.

We pull apart to draw breaths and don’t know what to do afterwards. We grin and laugh again. “We can ... walk a little?” he prompts and I agree and take his hand. With him at my side, I don’t feel so tired and lost. We’re two people enjoying christmas together in a beautiful city, and that changes everything.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” I say.

“Same here,” he replies. “Well, you said something about being in Italy during winter, and when my parents talked about travelling on Christmas, I put in an option or two …” He shrugs.

I elbow him softly. “Stalker,” I jest.

“Hey! It was still a surprise,” he objects and smirks. “And you called me.”

That’s true, but I’m unsure whether to tell him how needy I felt an hour before. It’s good as it is, should I dive deeper? We’re strolling through this ancient quarter, two people who might be in love during a lush night, like millions of other people must’ve done before. It doesn’t make me feel small, but incredibly connected and right where I belong tonight. Cal especially seems to fit in here perfectly. With his handsome face, the contrast of light skin and dark hair illuminated by the moonlight, he could be a mystical apparition rising from the ruins.

Oh god, I can never tell him that. He’d never shut up about it, and the idea is way to pagan for this night. Shade would be proud.

“What?” Cal nudges me and I shake my head a little too long just to win time. He frowns.

“You’re her with your family?” I ask eventually. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“I …” Bingo. “Ugh, right, that must sound ridiculous to you.” He’s completely flustered and it’s very endearing. “You’re here on your own,” he continues, “and I came here on a family trip like a big baby.”

I incline my head, the corner of my mouth twitching. He doesn’t offer me a chance to reply though.

“However, it does mean something to me.” His hand squeezes mine, possibly inadvertently, as his voice gains a serious edge. “My parents often went on trips with me, of course. But this is the first my half-brother is with us.”

I stand still.

“Mare?” Cal asks. I don’t react. “Mare, your mouth’s open till the Alps,” he says.

A shiver washes over me and I look up to him. His confused face likely mirrors mine. “Mare, didn’t I tell you about my brother? Who’s lived with his mother?”

I nod gravely.

“You see, as I’ve told you, we met at the same college. And somehow, we got along surprisingly well. I was so glad, you know? I think Maven is, too.”

“That’s great.” I smile faintly.

“Indeed, so after a few months, we decided to go on vacation together, as a family. And Maven loves Rome.”

I can easily imagine him, standing in a museum or on the capitol hill among paintings and statues and looking like a mischievous fallen angel himself. “Oh, absolutely,” I say aloud. Only that that deeply puzzles Cal, because he doesn’t know that I know Maven personally, that we were friends and a couple for years. I’ve only learned by accident that he’s Cal’s half-brother.

Now I have no idea how to tell Cal this so late. Seems like Maven didn’t tell him either. I wonder if he figured out who Cal is meeting tonight.

Cal still isn’t enlightened and I take both of his hands and know I have to confess. I look into his beautiful eyes, golden like fire, like light. “I’ve been friends with Maven for a long time,” I say. More than friends. “Until last year.”

If I leave it at this, I’ll never be able to finish. So I go on. “We were together for a while,” I say quietly, and speaking feels like lifting a ton. “As a couple.”

Cal gasps for words. I Iay a finger on his lips. “But that’s over. I’m just glad, really happy, that he is doing well and getting along with you.”

Relief washes over Cal and I’m sure he’ll have to digest this for some time. His hands wriggle in mine, loosen, and wander over my arms to my shoulders. He rubs them and I don’t want him to stop and he doesn’t, as he’s still at loss for words.

I stretch to give him a light kiss. He chuckles. “And I thought about asking you to come with me tonight …”

“Oh, how scandalous.” I tease back, hands on my hips.

“Yes, it’d be awkward for several reasons.”

I shake my head. “Not tonight, “I say with a sigh, a promise ringing in my voice.

He catches the note and smiles. His palms remain a caressing, welcome presence on my back, and I take the final step to embrace him. He pulls me even closer, bending down to my ear. “I’d say I’m looking forward for another time, Mare,” he mumbles, turning my name into a tender touch. “But whenever I let go of you and say ‘goodbye for now’, you vanish in a flash, fast as lightning.”

“I – ”

He kisses the top of my head. “I want to meet you again. I want to get to know you – for real.”

His eyes burn with intensity, his arms feel like a home. So under an infinite black sky, bells tolling around us in a city of legends, I whisper a time and place into his ear. “I’ll be there, I promise.” My hand rests on his cheek. “It’s my christmas present to you.”

@merrymareshmallow @clarafarleybarrow @inopinion @lilyharvord @elliemarchetti (gosh I just hope I did get Italy mostly right) @eurydicel @sarcasm-and-procrastination @marecalrandomstuff @calmareforever @choosemarecal

[honestgrins]

Do you accept prompts that you didn't come up with, I don't know if you have a list or not. But I just thought up a prompt and I would give my firstborn child to read the story. I know you may not have seen the Originals but Esther tried to body-switch Rebekah and Klaus said 'take me instead.' So the prompt is Esther grants Klaus’s request and body-switches him instead of Rebekah. He’s put into a teenage boy not much older than Caroline, he finds Caroline in Mystic Falls. Chaos ensues.

Ummmm, sorry this took SO long!! I’m slowly working through my lists, I swear. Thanks for your patience, and I really hope you like it! Takes place near the beginning of TVD S6.

Familiarity || Klaroline

“I’m going to fix this.” Rebekah’s voice was steely as she cupped his face, looking for any resemblance to the brother who had selflessly taken her punishment instead. Her thumb traced the new line of his cheek. “I promise, Nik.”

Klaus smirked, the familiar expression almost eerie on his human vessel. “It’s only temporary, Rebekah,” he murmured quietly.

She glanced just behind him to glare at their mother. “I don’t trust her,” Rebekah hissed.

“As if I don’t already have a plan.” Rolling his eyes, Klaus turned to face Esther. “Satisfied, Mother? Here I am, human and non-threatening.”

Esther’s eyes remain cold as her smile spread to something almost like warmth. “It’s for the best,” she nodded sagely. “The mere lifetime ahead of you will be worth more than the millennium you’ve already lived, Niklaus.”

Stepping toward the body he once inhabited, Klaus swallowed back an odd, hollow feeling when faced with his desiccating form. “Rebekah.”

“No!” Esther screamed.

In a second, Rebekah flashed both Klaus and his body away from the compound. Too focused on the body swap, Esther had failed to maintain the barrier spell on the house, allowing her children to escape.

With his too human senses, the sudden speed was disorienting for Klaus. By the time Rebekah stopped at the compound, his chest was heaving, the urge to vomit nearly overwhelming the dizziness. “Now-” He had to pause, focusing on deep breaths to remain steady. “We’re going to need a witch for cloaking spells. Elijah has one of his computer techs working on a false identity I can assume in the meantime, just out of sight of Mother Dearest.”

Nodding, Rebekah had yet to look at him in his new body; she pushed back the hair against his graying skin, instead. All the times he had daggered her, yet she couldn’t take any joy in him forced into submission. They’ve all lost each other too many times, and by their own family. “Where will you go?”

“Once the spells are done and my body is reasonably secured,” Klaus shrugged, “I have an idea where I can lay low, the last place Esther would think to look. There’s even a built-in resistance should she manage to find me.”

She frowned, finally turning to face him. Her eyes looked for any sign of her devious brother among the unfamiliar features. “Tell me you’re not that stupid.”

His smirk fell into a stern glare, the resemblance becoming clear in the violent expression. “Careful, sister. I may be human now, but-”

“Shove it, Nik,” Rebekah snapped, steel in the reminder that she was more powerful than her brother for the first time in her long, long life. “What could you possibly hope to gain by going back there?”

Klaus narrowed his eyes, a cunning smile curving his lips. “It seems the quarterback hasn’t been keeping in touch,” he teased, enjoying her angry hiss in response. “My sources say that Mystic Falls is protected against magic.”

“And Mother can’t get to you,” Rebekah realized. “But you’re magically in a human body.”

Sighing, Klaus ran a hand through his hair and startled at the smooth, dark strands. “I don’t know, Bekah. It’s merely an option should Mother make herself a further nuisance. Plan A is to ingratiate myself nearby.”

Rebekah blinked, irritation rising in her expression. “Oh, you must be joking.”

“Whitmore University Academic Advising Office, Caroline speaking.” Her fake smile stretched like elastic with the standard greeting, voice strained between professionalism and complete irritation with the human condition. The office job seemed like a good bet for work-study hours, even if the endless phone calls panicked over registration made her want to eat everyone who didn’t understand basic instructions. “Yes, you received an email with that information, I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you,” she answered tightly. “Then check your student portal, it’s also listed there.”

Sighing at the barrage of angry explanations for why that was so hard, Caroline mentally reminded herself that murder was bad. Even if she was short on blood and super hungry, hunting down some freshman who got snippy with the wrong vampire was so not worth the effort and resulting guilt.

Not so much about the feeding; since she’d been magically locked out Mystic Falls all summer, Caroline goaded her mom into taking advantage of the relative peace with a long vacation. The beach resort had plenty of booze for her to sublimate, but blood bags were few and far between. Liz managed to grin and bear the glassy-eyed guests on their way to sleep off the blood Caroline gave to heal them, but not without a stern reminder for her daughter to use good judgment once back at school.

“Mystic Falls might be safe from the supernatural, but Whitmore isn’t,” Liz had warned just before crossing the border back into town. “Getting sloppy can get you killed, draw the wrong attention.” What she left unsaid had Caroline nodding back grave tears. The Travelers were finally gone, but not without losing Bonnie to wherever she and Damon ended up when the Other Side collapsed. Stefan fled to grieve his brother, Elena walked a fine line between miserable and losing it on a good day, and Matt seemed to enjoy his exclusively human experience.

Once Caroline made it to campus for her sophomore year, then, all that left her with was-

“Hello, gorgeous.” Enzo appeared before her desk, handing off a coffee cup that didn’t smell like coffee. “Thought you might be needing a pick-me-up.”

“Enzo!” She kept her admonishment to a harsh whisper, glancing around the open office to make sure no one noticed his too sudden entrance. He’d become an unexpectedly reliable companion, though she still wasn’t sure why he stuck around. After a hundred years in a cell, Caroline half wanted to send him on a world tour. But he brought her blood and let her vent about statistics homework, so…only half. “Some discretion would be nice.” His roguish smirk told her exactly what he thought about discretion, but she accepted the cup anyway; her crabbiness would only get worse without blood. “Suspiciously warm,” she noted. “Anyone I know?”

Shrugging, Enzo made himself comfortable in the waiting area next to her, legs kicked up on her bookshelf until she shoved his feet away. “One of the parents passing through, per your request. No one likely to build a lingering grudge over time.”

Caroline sighed in relief. “Thank you.” The scent of blood darkened the veins under her eyes, and the tips of her fangs just grazed her lip when a student knocked at the door. Ducking her head to fake a cough, she took a calming breath to greet him with a more human face. “Hello, can I help you?”

He just stood there, staring at her for a too long moment. “Uh, hello?” Caroline asked again, ignoring Enzo’s amused recline as he watched the show.

“Sorry.” The guy seemed to straighten his leather jacket before folding his hands behind his back. “I wasn’t expecting- Hello. I’m a new transfer from Tulane, and I received an email to confirm my schedule here.”

Enzo perked up in his seat. “New Orleans?” Wincing, Caroline reminded herself to never drink with him again. New friend bonding time had turned into story time, which included a fair amount about the Mikaelsons, the havoc they wrought, and the greener pastures they apparently found down South. “I hear it’s a great town to get in trouble.”

“And then some, mate.” He glanced between the two of them, though, his fond smile turning into something darker.

Her eyes narrowed, some wave of suspicion dawning upon her. “Name? I’ll need it to find your advisor.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t waver from her gaze, instead meeting it with a challenge of his own. “Nicholas Mills. Call me Nic.”

He had forgotten what it was like to truly be in the presence of Caroline Forbes, the whirlwind that she was. For a whole month, Klaus had been able to chat, flirt, and even befriend her in his new body. She invited him to movie nights, caught up with him at the library, it was the utterly human life he had wanted her to leave behind.

As much as he hated his own humanity at times, he could admit that this glimpse of another life was…tempting.

Klaus knew he would have to tell her the truth at some point; the excuse for protection would only hold her attention - and her patience - for so long. He would have to explain when the time was right. Unable to contact Rebekah without drawing their mother’s attention, though, Klaus could not begin to guess when the right time would be.

Until then, he simply tried to enjoy the time she spent with him as Nic Mills. Dreadfully bored from the rest of his college experience, Klaus couldn’t help but allow bits of himself bleed through the mask. He spent his days in art classes, rolling his eyes through poor interpretations and misinformed history lessons. Often, he would duck into the music wing to while away at the piano. Whitmore had more to offer than he’d expected, but too much longer in this game would surely drive him insane.

But watching Caroline dance, smile bright among the party lights of the frat house, was a different sort of hell entirely. A red Solo cup of cheap beer was shoved into his hand, and he glanced over to find Enzo smirking at him. “Thanks,” he bit out, taking a sip. The strange vampire had been an unpleasant surprise, to say the least. It had only taken Klaus a day to catch onto his supernatural status, what with the unsubtle jokes about going for a bite and bloody t-shirts. Finding him so close to Caroline was even worse. Those nicknames. She had brooked no such casual friendship with Damon; why she put up with this fellow, Klaus didn’t understand.

“Following our girl again, huh?” Enzo drank from a flask instead, his eyes darting around the room. “Gorgeous has a tendency of collecting hangers-on.”

“Apparently so,” Klaus noted, none too generously. “Where’d she get you, then?”

Shrugging, Enzo waved back to Caroline who’d noticed both of them in the corner. “Would you believe that I was held captive for a hundred years, only to be abandoned by the closest thing I had to family, with just a gorgeous blonde to pester me back to fighting shape? Of course not, that’d be impossible.”

Klaus blinked, suddenly wanting much more of that story. But with Caroline approaching, he had to quash his instincts to threaten Enzo for information. “Hello.”

“Just in time, Gorgeous,” Enzo teased. “I was telling Nic here all about how we met. See, she pretended to hate me for a bit, but I grew on her. I hear it’s a habit with her, actually.”

Rolling her eyes, Caroline stole his flask before turning to Klaus. “Don’t believe a word he says. You don’t strike me as the frat party type.”

“You’re here,” he answered simply, much to Enzo’s amusement.

With a hoarse laugh, Enzo barely dodged an elbow jab from Caroline. “Careful, you’re a bit more breakable than her usual boyfriend. Don’t have fur, do you?”

Her hand pushed him away until she could slip between them like a barrier. Klaus wanted to push on that, wondering if he was included in that usual. Her smile turned placating, a reminder of all the times she acted as the distraction for him. “Seriously, ignore him. He’s already drunk. Do you want to da- Hold on.” Caroline reached into her pocket, frowning at the display as it buzzed. “This is…weird. I should take this.”

Lifting the phone to her ear, Klaus tried to decipher the sudden pinch in Caroline’s expression, only for the reason to become all too clear. “Rebekah?”

Klaus froze and wished he had his supernatural hearing. He didn’t want to show his hand too soon, both his safety and Caroline’s good favor depended upon him play his cards right. Worse, Rebekah might be in trouble when he was in no position to help. As his brain ran wild with the possibilities, he forced his face to remain passive. After all, he was just a human with no clue as to the Original family’s existence.

Thoroughly concerned with her conversation, Caroline didn’t seem to pay him much mind. Her eyes went wide; Klaus assumed Rebekah told her of Esther’s return and his own sacrifice. “No, Bonnie’s-” She choked up a bit, likely taken off guard. He hadn’t been pleased to discover the joy of Damon’s death cost a Bennett witch as well, though he knew Caroline was impacted on a more emotional front. “She’s gone. Where did Klaus go? Is he okay?”

Warmed at the note of worry in her voice, Klaus figured he had best be the one to come forward with the truth. Holding out his hand, he let himself fall back into his natural accent. “I’m fine, love. Give me the phone.”

Caroline hesitated only a moment until her eyes slid shut. He could practically feel the frustration rolling off her as she pressed the phone into his hand. “Unbelievable,” she muttered seconds before flashing them both out of the party. When they arrived in her off-campus apartment, Klaus took deep breaths to prevent vomiting. She scoffed at the utterly human reaction. “Seriously? Start talking, Nic.”

“You wanker,” Rebekah’s tinny voice yelled through the phone. “Is it really you, Nik?”

Sighing, Klaus held the phone up to his ear. “Yes, Rebekah. It’s been a dull few weeks. I assume you’ve been trying to reach me.”

“Your voicemail is full.”

“Phone’s locked in my studio at the compound,” Klaus answered. “I didn’t want to give Esther’s minions a means to track me.” He watched as Caroline crossed her arms, clearly unsettled.

Rebekah mumbled some obscenities at the holes in that plan, not that they’d had much time to develop it. “Well, I have you now. Elijah and Marcel have brokered a truce with Mother, I was going to bring your body up to Whitmore to avoid any interference with the spell.”

“What truce?” He certainly didn’t approve any such agreement, especially given their mother’s ill will toward their very being.

“We have Finn, it’s a trade. His life for your freedom. If the Bennett can’t do the spell, however, I want Caroline to escort you back to New Orleans. Davina will have to be the one to return you.” With a click, Rebekah hung up before either of them could protest.

Playing idly with the phone, Klaus struggled to meet Caroline’s eyes. “Sweetheart-”

“Please, don’t.” She sounded tired. “This is just…weird. Why would you do this? You made me a promise.”

I will walk away, and I’ll never come back.

Klaus opened his mouth, only to close it again. Dragging his tongue across his bottom lip, he bowed his head. “Where else would you have me go?” He glanced up to see the indecision on her face. “I wanted to tell you. Several times.”

“And yet, you didn’t. Several times.” She combed her hands through her hair, and Klaus watched forlornly as paced the room. “Well, it looks like you finally got me to New Orleans. Let’s go, we can make it there by lunch.”

“Caroline-”

Pressing her hands to her mouth, Caroline shook her head. “We’ll be trapped in a car for hours, I swear, we’ll talk about boundaries and honesty and common courtesy, I just…need a little time to process for myself. Okay?” She stared expectantly until he nodded in answer. “Okay. And I get to pick the music, it’s my car and I haven’t been lying for weeks.”

“No arguments here, love.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Stop that. I need to pack.” Flashing around her apartment, she came to a sudden stop with a suitcase in her hand.

A flare of hope clenched his stomach, though he wisely stayed quiet; still, a suitcase seemed more appropriate for an extended visit than a mere delivery. Soon, curiosity overwhelmed him. “Did you like him? Nic?”

Caroline, half buried in her pantry looking for road trip snacks, turned to face him in speculation. “I wanted to,” she finally said. “It’s been a while since…” The woods. “Plus, dating a human is such a recipe for disaster. I always kind of knew it would only be a temporary thing, which is fine. But I don’t like being temporary.”

Immortal. Fearless. “For what it’s worth,” he breathed, almost scared to invite her derision once more, “temporary is the last thing I want from you.”

“I know.” She didn’t sound sad or resigned as he’d expected. Rather, Caroline stated it as a matter of fact - that what they might be, would be forever. Shrugging, she managed a small smile. “Not yet.”

Klaus blinked, all too human heart pounding in his chest. He was about to have Caroline all to himself for hours, then in New Orleans, in his own body. She wasn’t ready for forever.

Not yet.

Read on: AO3 and FFnet

[onlinemarketingcourses]

10 Tips to Transform an Elusive Goal into a Doable Project

When you work with clients, their projects become your projects.

And when you’re consumed with helping others achieve their big goals, you don’t have much time and energy to accomplish your own.

Of course, it’s natural for your paid work to take priority. After all, there is rent to pay and mouths to feed.

But often when we put off the things we really want to accomplish (and accomplish well), the lack of progress toward our goals leaves us feeling sad and disappointed. Like we’re wasting time by not doing something we really want to do.

Basically, it sucks when you don’t feel like you’re progressing how you planned.

But rather than let another year go by — where your important goals and personal projects get pushed aside — let’s take a look at 10 tried-and-tested techniques for making significant progress.

1. Give yourself permission to start before you feel ready

Prioritizing our own projects can be challenging.

There’s always something else we could be doing. Or “one more thing” we might need before we start. Not to mention the fear that we’ll make the wrong moves and end up failing.

But, predictably, these perfectionist tendencies can only be conquered with one thing: action.

So deliberate, consistent practice (and the permission to be imperfect) is what will produce real progress toward your goals.

Allow yourself to start before you feel ready — making sure you stay flexible and willing to adjust your action plan as needed.

2. Shift your perspective: “Have to” vs. “Get to”

“You can build a work life around deadlines. You can procrastinate, pay the late fines and push through the last minute emergencies because you need all of that in order to get to ‘have to’ mode.

“Or, you can follow the path of the most productive and happy people you know. By redefining the work you’ve chosen to do as something you get to do.” – Seth Godin

If you’ve been struggling to start a new project (or make a decision about what to do next), consider reframing it as something you “get to do” rather than “have to do.”

This mindset shift can transform the way you see your work and propel you from a state of procrastination into one of focused action.

3. Use a simple system to move past the “idea phase”

The overwhelm involved with starting a new project can be paralyzing — and it’s often a result of the endless stream of other “amazing” ideas that bombard our thoughts when we’re trying to decide what to do next.

This is where a system for capturing your ideas becomes invaluable.

Simple systems improve the way you work and are essential for making consistent progress toward your goals.

If you’re getting stuck with idea overload, Sonia has some fantastic practical advice for capturing your creative ideas (and clearing your head in the process).

4. Embrace smaller (more effective) steps

“When making plans, think big. When making progress, think small.” – James Clear

Ever stalled on a new project because it felt too big to achieve? I have (many times).

Usually it’s because I’m so focused on how long something will take or how much more there’s still to do, and I give up before I even begin.

Big projects need to be broken into small parts in order to feel doable.

I’m now in the habit of “drilling down” into each task I set for myself. My goal is to make it as small as possible so it becomes remarkably easier to start and finish.

I also avoid giving myself large chunks of time to “focus” on my project, because I’ve found that restriction — not freedom — with my time frames works better for me.

Shorter time frames + smaller tasks = faster progress.

Try it!

5. Don’t start with “why” … start with “why not”

“We have more ability than willpower, and it is often an excuse to ourselves that we imagine that things are impossible.” – François de La Rochefoucauld

When it comes to self-management, a little self-awareness goes a long way.

So before I begin a new project, I like to list out all of the things I might use as excuses for not getting started (or being able to finish). By identifying and acknowledging them, they lose a little bit of their power.

Diving deeper into your excuses can reveal the real reasons you aren’t making your project a priority or achieving the progress you want.

Plus, once your excuses are exposed, you can work out how to eliminate them.

Arming yourself against these potentially crippling roadblocks will ensure an easier time pushing past them when they do inevitably pop up throughout your project.

6. Visualize your finished project

A well-designed project has an effective action plan. Something that can provide clear direction and prompt your next steps.

One of the easiest ways to create a project plan is to work backwards from your end goal.

You have to know what you want to accomplish before you can figure out how you’re going to accomplish it.

Having this visible end goal doesn’t mean your strategy or approach can’t change along the way. But it does mean you will always have a destination to aim for.

7. Focus on the first step, first

I’m a sucker for the planning stage of any project. I love thinking through all of the things that need to get done and putting them in their correct order of operations.

For me, that’s the easy part.

But sometimes, once I have my big, fancy plan, I get to the “taking action” part and I freeze. All I can think about is how much there is to do and how I’m not quite ready to tackle that last task on the list.

This kind of mental overload is why it’s so important to only focus on what the next step is.

Your project plan is important to have because it keeps you on track and provides your course of action. But if you allow yourself to get lost in the enormity of your to-do list, procrastination is bound to set in.

When you want to make progress, focus on the first step, first. Ignore the rest.

8. Answer these four questions to pinpoint your priority

“You are either consciously saying no to the things that don’t matter or you are unconsciously saying no to the things that do.” – Rory Vaden

If you can’t decide what to do first, consider running your tasks through a “focus funnel.”

I learned this technique from Rory Vaden, author of the book Procrastinate on Purpose.

A focus funnel is a tool to help ensure that — as much as possible — you’re always spending time on your next most significant thing.

Pick a task on your project list (perhaps one you’ve been putting off) and work your way through these four questions:

Is this task something I can live without? This stage of the funnel is about elimination and giving yourself permission to ignore certain tasks.

Can I systematize this task? This stage is about automation and giving yourself permission to invest in a system that can help get this done more efficiently.

Can someone else perform this task? Here is where you can consider delegation and giving yourself permission to be imperfect.

Can this wait until later? This is the stage where you can choose (yes, choose) to procrastinate and give yourself permission to put something off — until you’re actually ready to do it.

If you’ve gotten to the end of the funnel and answered “no” to all of the questions, then you have established a priority. It is the next most significant thing on your list.

Concentrate completely on that task until you accomplish it. Treat everything else as a distraction.

9. Practice “just in time” learning

I don’t know about you, but the projects I truly want to work on are usually ones that require a new skill set or some additional knowledge.

And while I used to try to learn everything all at once (a wonderful way to dive head first into procrastination), I have since started matching what I learn to the task at hand.

It’s called “just in time” learning. In a nutshell, you align your knowledge and skill development with your next most significant task, so you can use what you learn immediately in your work.

The goal is to give priority to the thing you need to learn now, not something that might be helpful a month or even a week later.

10. Hold yourself accountable

Building in some accountability is a super effective way to start and stay on track with a new project.

But it’s important to note that the type of accountability you choose can make all of the difference.

Do you thrive off of peer-to-peer accountability? Is it easier for you to connect and problem-solve with someone who is in the trenches with you?

Do you respond better to paid accountability? Is it more effective for you to have some skin in the game and hire a coach?

Do you crave specific guidance from someone who’s already done what you want to do? Can you find a mentor who can help shed some light and evaluate your ideas?

Do you need to use your family members to hold you to your word? Will tying it to your personal life make it more meaningful?

I know I need a “higher line” for accountability to really work, so finding a mentor or coach has always yielded the best results for me. But you could be different.

Think about what’s worked for you in the past (and more importantly, what hasn’t). Then consider what style of accountability will benefit you the most as you work through your next project.

It’s time for your first step

When starting (and finishing) projects, you’ve probably noticed that we struggle with a lot of mental barriers like indecision, procrastination, and a failure to prioritize.

But as I discussed today, some well-designed self-management systems and some simple self-awareness can usually help you push past those not-so-obvious obstacles.

If you’ve been struggling to figure out your next move or unable to muster the motivation to start something new, try a few of the tips from this list.

Have you got a project you’ve been putting off? Is it something you’d like to get done this year?

I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

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[richmeganews]

The Death of America’s Frontier Vision

Katherine Lam

Lost Children Archive opens as a family prepares for a transnational journey. The man is a sound artist; the woman’s a radio documentarian; the boy is 10; the girl, 5. The man has announced that he has to go to Arizona on a recording quest, and whether he intends to come home again is not clear. The woman is opposed but eventually agrees: They will all drive west until they find what the man is looking for, and decide later whether they’re returning home together.

If the broad details of the plot feel vaguely familiar, it’s because Valeria Luiselli, a Mexican novelist and essayist now living in the United States, has taken up the American pioneer myth: A family (here named, as is traditional, “Ma” and “Pa,” “the boy” and “the girl”) sets out from the relative safety of the East Coast in a wagon (here, a station wagon) in wary but hopeful search of a new home. Theirs is a pilgrimage to a kind of western Zion, fraught with peril, undertaken because it is the only solution to an existential threat. But the migration in Lost Children Archive is constructed as an inversion of the American frontier fable—its anti-myth, its interrogator.

Luiselli’s pioneer family departs from the Bronx. Unlike the old trope, in which the Anglo-Saxon family confronts a wilderness populated by “hostile” native tribes, this family is threatened by the “white supremacist something” playing over the speakers in a Virginia gas station. They clench their teeth through an encounter with a policeman who scolds them about getting the girl a booster seat. (Luiselli never directly states the family’s racial identity, but the woman’s fluent Spanish is a clue.)

Knopf

The threat forcing this migration is relational rather than physical—emotional estrangement, broken communication, divorce. It’s a blended family—the son is the man’s by birth, the daughter the woman’s—but one that has entirely bonded, until now. The woman, who narrates most of the book, senses that she and her husband will part ways at the end of this road trip and that the children, who have been siblings as long as they can remember, will be separated. “Inside the car, although we all sit at arm’s length from one another, we are four unconnected dots,” she thinks, “each in our seat, with our private thoughts, each dealing with our varying moods and unspoken fears.” In leaving home, they have lost the “small but luminous space where we had become a family,” and without a “center of gravity,” they seem unlikely to survive as the family they once were.

The man’s sound project, which inspired the road trip, is an “inventory of echoes,” an archive of the sounds of the Chiricahua Mountains, in southeastern Arizona, the heart of Chiricahua Apache country, where, he tells the children, “the last free peoples on the entire American continent lived before they had to surrender to the white-eyes.” (The Chiricahua, represented by Geronimo, were in fact the last of the free tribes to surrender to U.S. government troops, in 1886; many of the ambient events of this book are fact-checkably nonfictional.) He is out to record “the ghosts.”

The woman, meanwhile, is working on an audio documentary about migrant children arriving at the southern border from Central and South America and going missing—at the hands of smugglers (known as “coyotes”) or the U.S. government. A friend from New York calls to say that her two daughters, who were migrating alone under the supervision of a coyote and had made it into the custody of Immigration and Customs Enforcement, have suddenly vanished. Hearing reports on the car radio of missing minors, the boy and the girl start to call them “the lost children,” so the man and the woman do too.

What they’re driving toward isn’t so much a Zion as an absent monument, not the pioneer’s “freedom” or “land of possibility” but the site of the final stroke of the genocide and enslavement those myths excused. At first it’s the man who wants to reach the place where Geronimo surrendered, but the children soon take an interest, imagining other outcomes. “They come up with possible endings and counterfactual histories,” Luiselli writes. “What if Geronimo had never surrendered to the white-eyes … The lost children would be the rulers of Apacheria!” The woman privately comes to think of their destination (which is, in the end, a real corner of Chiricahua National Monument called Echo Canyon) as the place where the family will discover which of its own possible trajectories will come to pass: stay together, or part.

I am to see to it that I do not lose you, promises the final line of a Walt Whitman poem that the man and the woman recited to each other at the beginning of their romance. This mandate haunts the book. What happens when a person is lost to loved ones, to herself, to history? Can such loss be prevented? Can we be retrieved?

Both mother and son—who also narrates part of the book—are curious about the documentary impulse, and anxious about whether documentation can shore up the world against loss. The boy received a Polaroid camera for his birthday just before they set out on their journey, and he spends the first part of the drive learning how to use it. His immediate questions aren’t so much technical as ontological, maybe prompted by his curiosity about what his parents do. “So what does it mean, Ma, to document stuff?” Before the woman replies, she reflects:

Perhaps I should say that documenting is when you add thing plus light, light minus thing, photograph after photograph; or when you add sound, plus silence, minus sound, minus silence. What you have, in the end, are all the moments that didn’t form part of the actual experience. A sequence of interruptions, holes, missing parts, cut out from the moment in which the experience took place … The strange thing is this: if, in the future one day, you add all those documents together again, what you have, all over again, is the experience. Or at least a version of the experience that replaces the lived experience, even if what you originally documented were the moments cut out from it.

What should I focus on? the boy insists.

This is a bit heady, but the book itself is attempting to solve a heady problem: how to account for the past and the present at once, how to hear the people who remain undocumented, how to rescue what is lost and also make sense of what and who are still here. By combining archivist protagonists interested in border politics and indigenous people’s history, Luiselli invites a closer look at the word undocumented. Being undocumented also means having no proof of self to carry forward into the future.

The woman seems dizzied by history, as if now is the time when all eras and their energies collide—when the past is the present and the future is impenetrable and uncertain. She’s struck, she says, by a change in the world.

Perhaps it’s just that we sense an absence of future, because the present has become too overwhelming, so the future has become unimaginable. And without future, time feels like only an accumulation. An accumulation of months, days, natural disasters, television series, terrorist attacks, divorces, mass migrations, birthdays, photographs, sunrises.

The boy’s question about where to point his camera, the woman concludes, suggests the real problem: “Our ways of documenting the world have fallen short.”

Lost Children Archive attempts its own new form as if in answer to that challenge. The family’s story is interspersed with archival lists cataloging the contents of each of the seven boxes they have brought along. Luiselli inserts photographs, migrant-mortality reports, maps, newspaper clippings, reading lists, and an annotated photocopy of a poem by Anne Carson, as well as sequences of notes on “stranger echoes,” “car echoes,” “insect echoes,” “leaves echoes.” There is even a second book within this one—the woman reads a novel about migrant children to the boy and the girl, and it appears chapter by chapter, as a counterpoint to their own journey. One of Lost Children Archive’s pleasures is its resemblance to the kind of collection that emerges when a dedicated mind is at work on the same problem over the course of years. Luiselli gives us the text and the metatext, and instead of being a contrived poststructuralist irritation, the approach feels elegant and generous. She has left us the paper trail.

Luiselli has created an extraordinary allegory of this country’s current crisis of self-concept: What do America’s borders mean now? Why are some migration (or pioneer) stories celebrated in the nation’s history, while others are framed as intrusions to be erased from the record? The same political and existential questions animate the historian Greg Grandin’s new book, The End of the Myth: From the Frontier to the Border Wall in the Mind of America. In his account, lust for the frontier has been the driving force in American history, starting with Christopher Columbus and sweeping westward to the Pacific, then imperially across the world, and now back home to the contested U.S.-Mexico border. Only now, he argues, are the fallacies of America’s self-mythology of “endless becoming and ceaseless unfurling” clearly revealed, along with their consequences.

Metropolitan

“This ideal of freedom as infinity,” Grandin points out, rested on domination—first of Native Americans, African Americans, Mexican Americans, and Mexicans, and then of whatever countries U.S. forces decided to occupy. The society created through this expansionism was inevitably plagued by injustice: economic inequality, racism, nationalism, political sectarianism, and violence. But the ever-receding frontier provided a safety valve for the pressures it caused. “A constant fleeing forward allowed the United States to avoid a true reckoning with its social problems.”

The logical flaw is obvious: At some point the system is going to implode. “In a nation like the United States,” Grandin writes,

founded on a mythical belief in a kind of species immunity—less an American exceptionalism than exemptionism, an insistence that the nation was exempt from nature, society, history, even death—the realization that it can’t go on forever is bound to be traumatic.

He suggests that the moment of implosion has crystallized in Trumpism’s rhetoric of division and isolationism. “Expansion, in any form, can no longer satisfy the interests, reconcile the contradictions, dilute the factions, or redirect the anger.”

“Something changed in the world,” Luiselli’s woman says. “Not too long ago, it changed, and we know it … somewhere deep in our gut or in our brain circuits.” Americans no longer enjoy the illusion of a limitless world. Now we are nose to nose with a wall. Grandin, like Luiselli, is a fan of Anne Carson, whom he also cites: “To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.” If we have lived past ours, what (or whose) mythos will take its place?

Both Grandin and Luiselli decline to imagine forward into the beckoning horizon of a new national story. Instead, they reach back to retrieve the narratives of those who were dominated or eclipsed in history. Grandin’s book pays careful attention to the various peoples who were subjugated, enslaved, or exterminated in the name of the American project. If Luiselli’s narrator asks whether the undocumented can be retrieved, Grandin’s answer is yes, partly—at least for the historical record.

Luiselli’s focus is narrower: the thousands of children who have vanished trying to cross into the United States (the littlest, most vulnerable pioneers). Their saga has captured the American imagination as much as frontiersman stories did two centuries ago, and yet their stories explicitly frame the United States as a site of terrifying erasure rather than self-authorship. In adopting the novel as her format, she suggests that their voices in particular are reachable only with the help of imagination. Some children, she admits, are simply lost. Their absence, their horrible silence, is what’s left to record.

This silence is accented by the two tender, rowdy children journeying in the narrator’s back seat. With an ethnographer’s curiosity, she records their moods, their games, their funny and poignant judgments on the country out the window, their various assertions of selfhood. The boy and the girl are the bright, almost painful joy of the book—and the starkest indictment of a country at whose hands children can be erased. Near the end of their journey, the boy and the girl stand alone at the edge of a canyon in Apacheria, surveying the landscape. They begin to play a hide-and-seek game of their own invention—hollering “Geronimo” when they spot each other—and the girl shouts so forcefully that the name comes back to them: “eronimo, onimo, onimo.” They have arrived at Echo Canyon. Excited, they shout Geronimo’s name again, and then their own names, and eventually their names mix with the lost name, until the boy is “full of thunder-feelings, my stomach, and full of lightning, my head.” He calls into the void and his voice rings forward and backward, all around him, like an arrival of ghosts.

This article appears in the May 2019 print edition with the headline “The Death of the Pioneer Myth.”

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[sualkmedeiors]

Increase Productivity in Your Workday (Without Losing Your Mind)

Ever get the feeling that you’re swamped by an avalanche of emails? Me too. On an average, we receive about 121 emails a day—and this number is set to rise to 140 this year. Now I don’t know about you, but in my book, that’s a lot! And these are just emails from people we work with. It can tank your productivity before you’ve even begun your day.

As marketers, not only do we have to manage those 140 emails a day, we also have to look at emails sent by automated systems—social media spikes, alerts about a potential PR crisis, or even an email that tells you about low open rates about your latest email marketing campaign (ironic, I know). So, in the end, you probably end up with close to 250 emails in your inbox when you get to work every morning.

Oh and let’s not forget the constant pings on Slack. From your team. Or your boss.

At this point, you do one of two things. Give up and grab a giant mug of coffee or spend the rest of your morning tackling your inbox—which may or may not mean you’re ticking off items off of your to-do list. (More often than not, my to-do list is intact and I get maybe three hours—if I’m lucky—to tackle that before my inbox gets flooded again).

So how do you ensure that you’re not overwhelmed and frazzled by 3 pm? How do you stay on top of your game despite the deluge of emails in your inbox?

Here are three things you can do as soon as you get into work to increase productivity.

1. Use an Alert System

We all know how hard it is to contain an endless stream of complaints on social media or a viral blog post that doesn’t necessarily paint the best picture of your brand. You’re likely to leave a bunch of complaints unanswered—at least for a few hours. And nobody wants to do that. But you’re still human right?

The workaround for this is to anticipate a PR crisis before it grows into your worst nightmare. At Talkwalker, we use Talkwalker Alerts, our in-house alert system to keep track of our brand or latest campaign. This not only helps us take prompt action if we notice a potential crisis in the works, it also helps us understand what our customers think of our products or campaigns. It just takes a few seconds to set up an alert and then, it’s a matter of checking them as soon as we get in. There are both paid and free products for brand tracking—it really depends on your needs which will be right for you and your brand.

Why Check Your Brand Mentions?

It’s important to check your alerts regularly is because it helps you prioritize your actions for the rest of the day. Remember the deluge of social messages we just referred to? If you know within the first few minutes of entering the office that you have to tackle them, you can plan your day better, shift a few meetings around and dedicate your energy to sorting it out without wasting anyone’s time.

Be sure to also track your competition. You can use this information to develop strategy, create new campaigns to reach new audiences, and above all, know what you’re up against.

2. Optimize Your Calendar

Your calendar is your best friend when it comes to productivity. It tells your coworkers when they can and can’t reach out to you. Checking your calendar as soon as you get to work means that you can again figure out how you’ll use the time you have during the day to make sure you make every minute count. Too many meetings mean that you’re going to lose focus and end up being unproductive for the few hours you do have to get through your list of things.

How To Say No Without Actually Saying it

So how do you handle something like this? If you have to excuse yourself from a meeting, you might end up in a sticky situation—how do you politely tell your coworkers that your workload needs more attention and you can’t make it to a meeting for the annual ski trip without looking like a spoil-sport?

Block time for yourself in your calendar to focus on tasks that cannot wait. Maybe book a two-hour slot a few mornings a week to ensure that no one schedules meetings you have to attend at that time and you can take care of writing that blog post you’ve been meaning to do forever or working on the content for your latest webinar. You don’t always have to put in extra hours to meet your deadlines within the 9-5  window. A little bit of planning can ensure that you stay on top of your game.

And last but not least—try and follow your calendar to the best of your ability.

3. Make KPIs Your Priority

This may seem like it’s obvious but it’s easier to get distracted by side projects than you’d think. In the end, your KPIs are what count. For instance, if you’re responsible for PR in your organization and if your goal is to get coverage in three major publications a month, you should check in on where you are first thing in the morning. If it’s the 15th of the month and you’ve not hit even a single publication, you know how to prioritize the rest of your days.

Or, if you’re in charge of bringing in a certain number of leads every month, it’s important to check your numbers on a daily basis. This will help you plan the rest of your marketing activities for the month and help you hit that number. It’s important to know where you’re at in order to plan what to prioritize more efficiently and which projects you would need to put on the backburner or say no to.

It also goes without saying that being more productive includes blocking out tabs and notifications from sites like Facebook. For instance, do you really need to check your News Feed every hour? It really isn’t that important, unless you’re on your company account.

Now that you’re up to speed about what needs to be done and have a good idea of where you’re at, you can go and grab that cup of coffee without any doubts or without being overwhelmed.

Bonus Tip

Use headphones without listening to music. Studies show that if you’re in an open space office design, you’re more likely to be distracted by what your colleagues are doing. And none of that is your fault really—it’s pretty normal. A pretty good hack for this is to use headphones without any music on, which could, to a certain extent make your coworkers think twice about approaching you for a post-lunch cup of coffee.

What are your productivity hacks? How do you organize your work day to keep ahead? Tell me about your best practices in the comments.

The post Increase Productivity in Your Workday (Without Losing Your Mind) appeared first on Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership.

from http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/modernb2bmarketing/~3/zKS-iQeJT54/increase-productivity-in-your-workday-without-losing-your-mind.html

[maxslogic25]

Increase Productivity in Your Workday (Without Losing Your Mind)

Ever get the feeling that you’re swamped by an avalanche of emails? Me too. On an average, we receive about 121 emails a day—and this number is set to rise to 140 this year. Now I don’t know about you, but in my book, that’s a lot! And these are just emails from people we work with. It can tank your productivity before you’ve even begun your day.

As marketers, not only do we have to manage those 140 emails a day, we also have to look at emails sent by automated systems—social media spikes, alerts about a potential PR crisis, or even an email that tells you about low open rates about your latest email marketing campaign (ironic, I know). So, in the end, you probably end up with close to 250 emails in your inbox when you get to work every morning.

Oh and let’s not forget the constant pings on Slack. From your team. Or your boss.

At this point, you do one of two things. Give up and grab a giant mug of coffee or spend the rest of your morning tackling your inbox—which may or may not mean you’re ticking off items off of your to-do list. (More often than not, my to-do list is intact and I get maybe three hours—if I’m lucky—to tackle that before my inbox gets flooded again).

So how do you ensure that you’re not overwhelmed and frazzled by 3 pm? How do you stay on top of your game despite the deluge of emails in your inbox?

Here are three things you can do as soon as you get into work to increase productivity.

1. Use an Alert System

We all know how hard it is to contain an endless stream of complaints on social media or a viral blog post that doesn’t necessarily paint the best picture of your brand. You’re likely to leave a bunch of complaints unanswered—at least for a few hours. And nobody wants to do that. But you’re still human right?

The workaround for this is to anticipate a PR crisis before it grows into your worst nightmare. At Talkwalker, we use Talkwalker Alerts, our in-house alert system to keep track of our brand or latest campaign. This not only helps us take prompt action if we notice a potential crisis in the works, it also helps us understand what our customers think of our products or campaigns. It just takes a few seconds to set up an alert and then, it’s a matter of checking them as soon as we get in. There are both paid and free products for brand tracking—it really depends on your needs which will be right for you and your brand.

Why Check Your Brand Mentions?

It’s important to check your alerts regularly is because it helps you prioritize your actions for the rest of the day. Remember the deluge of social messages we just referred to? If you know within the first few minutes of entering the office that you have to tackle them, you can plan your day better, shift a few meetings around and dedicate your energy to sorting it out without wasting anyone’s time.

Be sure to also track your competition. You can use this information to develop strategy, create new campaigns to reach new audiences, and above all, know what you’re up against.

2. Optimize Your Calendar

Your calendar is your best friend when it comes to productivity. It tells your coworkers when they can and can’t reach out to you. Checking your calendar as soon as you get to work means that you can again figure out how you’ll use the time you have during the day to make sure you make every minute count. Too many meetings mean that you’re going to lose focus and end up being unproductive for the few hours you do have to get through your list of things.

How To Say No Without Actually Saying it

So how do you handle something like this? If you have to excuse yourself from a meeting, you might end up in a sticky situation—how do you politely tell your coworkers that your workload needs more attention and you can’t make it to a meeting for the annual ski trip without looking like a spoil-sport?

Block time for yourself in your calendar to focus on tasks that cannot wait. Maybe book a two-hour slot a few mornings a week to ensure that no one schedules meetings you have to attend at that time and you can take care of writing that blog post you’ve been meaning to do forever or working on the content for your latest webinar. You don’t always have to put in extra hours to meet your deadlines within the 9-5  window. A little bit of planning can ensure that you stay on top of your game.

And last but not least—try and follow your calendar to the best of your ability.

3. Make KPIs Your Priority

This may seem like it’s obvious but it’s easier to get distracted by side projects than you’d think. In the end, your KPIs are what count. For instance, if you’re responsible for PR in your organization and if your goal is to get coverage in three major publications a month, you should check in on where you are first thing in the morning. If it’s the 15th of the month and you’ve not hit even a single publication, you know how to prioritize the rest of your days.

Or, if you’re in charge of bringing in a certain number of leads every month, it’s important to check your numbers on a daily basis. This will help you plan the rest of your marketing activities for the month and help you hit that number. It’s important to know where you’re at in order to plan what to prioritize more efficiently and which projects you would need to put on the backburner or say no to.

It also goes without saying that being more productive includes blocking out tabs and notifications from sites like Facebook. For instance, do you really need to check your News Feed every hour? It really isn’t that important, unless you’re on your company account.

Now that you’re up to speed about what needs to be done and have a good idea of where you’re at, you can go and grab that cup of coffee without any doubts or without being overwhelmed.

Bonus Tip

Use headphones without listening to music. Studies show that if you’re in an open space office design, you’re more likely to be distracted by what your colleagues are doing. And none of that is your fault really—it’s pretty normal. A pretty good hack for this is to use headphones without any music on, which could, to a certain extent make your coworkers think twice about approaching you for a post-lunch cup of coffee.

What are your productivity hacks? How do you organize your work day to keep ahead? Tell me about your best practices in the comments.

The post Increase Productivity in Your Workday (Without Losing Your Mind) appeared first on Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 8217493 https://blog.marketo.com/2018/03/increase-productivity-in-your-workday-without-losing-your-mind.html

[sarahburness]

5 Ways Journaling Can Help You Get Through the Hard Stuff

“In the journal I do not just express myself more openly than I could to any person; I create myself. The journal is a vehicle for my sense of selfhood. It represents me as emotionally and spiritually independent. Therefore (alas) it does not simply record my actual, daily life but rather—in many cases—offers an alternative to it.” ~Susan Sontag

My first journal was born into existence when I was twelve. I remember carefully choosing my favorite comics, pictures from magazines, and the odd scribble I’d drawn. Tongue stuck out in concentration, gluing them strategically on an unused exercise book. Wrangling with the clear sticky contact mum used to cover my schoolbooks, I encased the precious creation in it, preserving it forevermore: Nicole’s Diary.

Needless to say it’s an extremely embarrassing collection of teenage angst, weird bits and pieces like lists of potential names for a child I didn’t and still don’t want; pages of dialogue between myself and other people with in-depth analysis of these conversations beyond anything reasonable; and daydreaming about the life I wished I had or complaining about the life I did have.

Whenever I happen upon this old journal, It takes strength not to throw it away, just in case some invisible person were ever to discover it and think this was actually me.

The journals since then have gone through phases. Phases where I wrote every day, or just once every few months. Where I was obsessed with recording quotes or where I collected everything from movie tickets to foreign sweet wrappers. There are endless lists, ways to improve myself, deep sadness, furious anger, joyful enthusiasm, unbridled hope, and ponderings on love during many a loving or loveless encounter.

Historically journaling has been extremely popular, and if you think about the mountains of YouTubers and bloggers, it still is.

They used to be more of a private affair, but consider the way we write when we really let the pen go. We’ve derived important pieces of the past from people’s journals. Are they genuine portraits of the time, or just endless, worrisome chatter from a mind trying to figure stuff out?

These days it’s popular to have a gratitude journal, and I can see why—the idea being to cultivate gratitude as part of our being, and not give so much weight to the negative and the worrying. Remembering what we are grateful for is supposed to give us perspective on the hard stuff.

But I don’t know. Writing about the hard stuff is actually what helps me get through it. It’s what makes journaling so incredibly powerful.

Here are five reasons why:

1. Journaling is the act of processing the past (and sometimes the future) in the here and now.

For many of us, talking and writing isn’t about performance or the telling of something—it’s actually the processing. Getting it outside of yourself can give it a new shape.

It’s like opening the clothes drier mid-cycle. You interrupt the cyclic thinking and the jumble of ideas fall out, allowing each one to be tossed around and thought about on it’s own. The amount of times solutions have begun to appear while I was actually writing is astounding.

2. Writing is and of itself cathartic.

Try this: Set the timer on your phone for ten minutes, grab a pen, and write about your day until the alarm goes. Give yourself permission to burn it if you find yourself getting held back by the worries of who is going to read it (or delete it if you typed).

Even if nothing at all has happened, you will most certainly have thoughts in your head that are dying to get out. Offloading conscious and subconscious stuff helps the mind become clearer and you calmer.

3. Feelings and experiences become less overwhelming.

A while ago I wrote a blog post about my partner’s beautiful little old dog being killed in a car accident. When I was writing the piece, I found myself crying almost the whole time.

As I described the accident, moved onto what she meant to him, as I remembered my own times with her, it became an incredibly meaningful process. I spent some time looking for photos and wanted to honor her and the humans she had touched in her life.

Writing about the grief helped me immensely. It slowed it down as well as enriched her life. I stopped simply wanting to escape the awful feeling and instead was able to wade through it and just feel. Even if no one read it, I felt like I’d created a full-bodied process—a eulogy—that honored her and helped me hold her light after she’d passed.

4. Reading back helps reveal patterns.

Sure, it can be frustrating to look back at a journal from three years ago and see that you are writing about the same thing in the same ways again, but that can also be empowering. It’s a researcher’s dream: go back and investigate and then spend some time reflecting on what keeps you stuck if you notice patterns.

Similarly, you can celebrate any little (or big) changes you have made. “Wow, I used to worry about what people thought of me so much… it seems now I’m more concerned with what I think of myself and if I’m being a good person. What does that tell me about my journey so far? What do I want to take with me moving forward?”

5. You can use creative journaling to change your story.

We tend to tell our stories in the same way over and over, emphasizing the same points in the same ways, and even adding to a narrative by noticing everything that fits in with the story and ignoring everything that doesn’t.

If that narrative is overwhelmingly negative (i.e.: I’m a people pleaser; I’m a doormat; I’m hopeless; I’m a victim; I’m unlovable; I’m always anxious; I can’t do anything about this; Only jerks like me etc.) then it can lead to a full-on negative identity conclusion based on one pretty shaky theme.

Try injecting some freshness into a tired story. Journal prompts easily found via Google can help you do that, inviting you to answer questions you wouldn’t normally think of in the context of any given experience.

Writing requires you to dig a little deeper into stories, where you may find that the ‘full’ conclusion isn’t based on much: you’ve dated a few jerks and have decided that you only ever attract terrible people. But if you are prompted to consider all the facts, there was a decent person who you just weren’t attracted to, so is there a more truthful nuanced conclusion to be considered in this narrative?

What becomes available when you widen your perspective?

—

I can think of a bunch more reasons why journaling deserves a comeback, but I hope these five have injected some enthusiasm in you as a great starting ground. Just last month I began my own personal project of writing almost daily again, as well as launching a little Facebook group to discuss journal prompts.

Sharing some of your writing has an added benefit of being seen—becoming visible in the ways you want and feel safe to. To acknowledge your struggles as well as find humor in them, and be able to see beauty in who you are no matter what, is more than worthy of the little effort it takes to pick up a pen (or use a voice machine) and pour ourselves onto the page.

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About Nicole Hind

Nicole Hind is an Australian online counselor who fiercely believes that we all have stories that deserve to be wrenched out of the shadows, increase a sense of hope, of self-worth, and provide clarity on how to approach challenges for the rest of our lives. If you're curious go and scroll through her website, she’s open to new inquiries: http://unveiledstories.com/.

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[yearinthejournal-blog]

January 7th

2008

Life is glorious! This past week has been one of the best in my life simply because of the changes that have occurred in me.

I went to the Rexburg Temple open house on Tuesday. It was so wonderful. The temple is beautiful and  big and I feel such a peace being there. I am so excited to one day go through to get my endowments. I do have to say that my favorite part was the sealing room - a couple kneels across from each other on an altar and are sealed together for time and all eternity. Oh I just can’t fathom the intense joy I will have when I get to kneel across from the man I love to marry him. The only sad part was as I looked around, I realized I was the only one there without a family. I was all by myself. But I am proud to be a member of this church of Jesus Christ and I hope I can be “a light on the hill” for my family to see. I hope the changes in me testify of the truthfulness of this Gospel. I know that if my dad were to soften his heart and be willing to act upon whatever answer he received, if he prayed to know what the truth is, he would find it. Our Father in Heaven loves us so much and wants desperately to have us with Him again one day. Through the Atonement of Christ, we can come to have the great purpose and happiness in our life that God intends for us.

The rest of the week, not much happened. I helped Jamie around the house and with Lyla. I moved in on Saturday. The first step I took into my new home bought feelings I can barely describe. I really feel like this is a home - a home I can take care of, take refuge in, feel safe. A place I love coming back to. I had the greatest time just putting all my kitchen stuff away and decorating my room. One of my new roommates, Heather, is so sweet and nice. She seems like such a faithful innocent girl and I’m so thankful to be living with her. The other one, Megan, I haven’t met yet.

Church on Sunday was fantastic - I learned so much and my ward is excellent! The bishopric is amazing and the people seem so nice. I had dinner with Charlene, and I got to video chat with Ron, which was so nice. We had scripture study together and discussed what we learned. I miss him so much. He is doing okay. He had to take a break from talking to me for a while, but I think our friendship will last.

Today was Charlene’s birthday! Jackie and I made breakfast for her and to get her over here, Jackie called her and told her there was a fire! Which wasn’t a lie because we had lit a candle. Charlene came bounding over and when she got inside, we started singing happy birthday! Oh it was so great. Charlene and I ran some errands then made cookies and popcorn balls for our relief society and some apartments in somerset. Then we pulled an FHE together which ended with a surprise party for Charlene and Oliver and we played games.

I have learned so much and changed so much already. From reading about Emma Smith, I desire to be valiant like she was. I checked out some books about her - the one I’m reading right now is called “Emma’s Glory and Sacrifice.” It is so good. That woman went through so much and never did it grudgingly, never complained, never got angry. She was “never found wanting.” I have received so much strength from her story that I find myself much the same way - after all, my life is no where near what hers was. But I have stopped complaining and have not allowed myself to think my life is difficult. I feel more inclined to impart of my substance.

But I have learned two wonderful things. I did not eat much this past week because I felt bad at Jamie’s eating her food. So by the time fast Sunday rolled around, I simply was too weak to fast. I learned that fasting is not enough; I need to prepare to fast.

Also, Jackie taught an amazing lesson in RS that helped me a lot. And I know this is because she had the Spirit so strong with her. It just struck me how important it is to always have the Spirit with us, not just for ourselves, but because we can change lives, just like Jackie’s lesson changed. It’s another one of the many reasons that have the Spirit with me is so strong.

2012

The week After I wrote last, Things were amazing. I was so happy and “on track”. But then I started slipping again, and drinking and waking up day after day feeling empty and painfully uncomfortable about each previous night. We got a new roommate. Mary, who I don’t remember if I wrote about, moved out. Mary was an incredible person. Honest and genuine and down to earth as they come. But someone named Noah moved into her room and he is equally as amazing. Intelligent and calm and impressive in his ability with words. I made cards and candy and gave them out. Christmas came and  by this time, I was exhausted from the endless drinking and Cameron’s insufferable drunkenness. My time with his family over xmas was horrible and I was cold and selfish the whole time. I missed Noah. I have feelings for Noah, but I know he is way out of my league and he is leaving in a few months. It will be, yet again, unbearable.

NYE, Rachel and Carter came over and we got wasted in the bathroom and ugh...I feel so gross about it. I’m not sure why. I hate being drunk. NYD was possibly the worst day of my life. Worse than the cocaine weekend that prompted me to start going back to church again. Cameron left that morning, drunk, to go hang out  with some random guy he didn’t even know that called his phone on accident. He was gone all day into the late night and I hated him and as far as I was concerned, we are now broken up. I SWORE not to drink again and last night, Rachel and Carter came over and we went to Mars Bar, then came home and had a dance party and I can’t believe it, but I didn’t drink! And I feel amazing. I kind of felt like Noah was flirting with me, and that maybe there’s something between us, but I also know Noah is kind of just desperate for sex and maybe just wants to fuck. And I’m not sure I would just fuck him, I like him too much. Cameron didn’t drink all week, and now I don’t hate him anymore. He’s been really pleasant and sweet and not stupid and annoying. I made an account on OK Cupid, a dating site, to find lovers in the Anchorage area and I’ve messaged a couple but no responses, which is maddening. It’s so hard to meet people, and relate to the ones I do meet and I wonder if I’m just that socially inept; or if it’s because of my situation. I saw the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo which was amazing and the lead, Lisbeth, has become my new obsession. She gets brutally raped by this guy, but then she goes back, brutally sodomizes him, then tattoos “I am a rapist pig” on his  chest and is really sadistic towards him. It was delicious. I can’t believe this was in a movie. 

About Mormonism - I am going to stop going to church for a while. I think I realized I don’t need the church - as long as I stick to certain things, like not drinking, being consistent in my daily habits, working, keeping my room clean, following a budget, being fair to others, etc. I’d never been able to do these things without the structure of the Church before, but I think I can now. I’ve even stopped praying and reading my scriptures and I feel happy still.

Andrew hung out with us a couple of times which was awesome! He’s going to sell me his computer. I’m thinking about buying a smart phone. Subway is going well - I might be promoted to supervisor. I feel good, I can’t believe I feel good.

I have so much to be grateful for, and I am grateful, but I find it hard to be grateful without having a God to be grateful towards - who do I thank for what I have? I don’t want to slip into feelings of entitlement, or worse, apathy, but how does one do that without believing in God? I still feel less conflicted than before though - agnosticism is what makes the most sense to me.

2015

I’m drunk journaling, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever done before. I’ve been feeling low lately, like I’m going into a depressive period even though I’ve been motivated and planning and getting stuff done. I feel hopeless and bored and sad no matter what I do. But Ii’m going to try and list what I’m grateful for in hopes that it will energize me.

I’m grateful for my two jobs. I wanted to be a barista for so long and it’s given me the opportunity to do that while accentuating my strengths: efficiency with routine, confidence, by necessity, cleanliness, organization - and working on my many weaknesses. I love and would die for my coworkers. EDI was my road into Anchorage and making the best friendship I have, with Miranda. These jobs have shaped me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I’m grateful for Kylie for being patient with me in times of extreme weakness and loving me in spite of my flaws, all of which affect her, and I’m not sure why she puts up with me.

I’ve been feeling a lot of low self-esteem and self-doubt lately - I’ve been focusing on my flaws. And I don’t know how to stop. 

2017

I completely forgot I said I’d cover a shift and I didn’t show up for an open on Monday! So I bought a new planner and I LOVE it. I got to help Maria make a budget on Monday and it was so fun and being around Maria is always uplifting. I saw the movie “Jackie” with Kylie that night.

I pray almost every morning that God will send someone for me to help and almost every day it happens. Tues Morgan had a breakdown so I took over her mid. I did step 1- and am trying to do spot checks - when I feel fear, dishonesty, resentment, or selfishness, I 1. Ask for God  to remove it 2. Talk it out 3. Make amends and 4. Turn my thoughts to someone I can help. Talking it out has been tripping me up - I don’t want others to know how often I feel these things, and I don’t want to overwhelm Ashley. I just feel resentment so often at work. But I’m doing my best.

Thurs I went to a mtg - DOR and they need a secretary so I volunteered! I’m so excited/grateful!

I read step 11. First of all, I’ve still been agonizing about LDS, but I realized I’ve only been thinking about myself. Much of step 11 is about focusing on others, how to be useful. “In thinking about our day we may face indecision. We may not be able to determine which course to take. Here we ask God for inspiration, an intuitive thought or a decision. We relax and take it easy. We don’t struggle.” I don’t really know what to do - it seems as if I just can’t take it easy even - I really don’t want to go to church. And maybe it’s my decision. But why did I get that intense feeling of comfort about it? I realized all the things I put on the list of things I love about LDS - AA now fits these. AA is becoming my church. I think I’m going to leave LDS (AGAIN!!!!!) and not jump into things so fast in the future, especially because my actions affect others.

Parts of step 11 make me uncomfortable: “We are careful to make no request for ourselves only...we are careful never to pray for our own selfish ends, it doesn’t work...Why can’t we take a specific and troubling dilemma straight to God, and in prayer secure from him sure and definite answers to our requests? Quite often the thoughts that seem to come from God are well-intentioned unconscious rationalizations.” I don’t really understand how this is different from how we’re supposed to pray: “Knowledge of his will for us and the power to carry that out. We simply ask that throughout the day God place us in the best understanding of his will that we can have for that day and that we be given the grace by which to carry it out. We pause and renew the simple request: Thy will, not mine, be done.” I feel like a loving God wouldn’t pettily just not answer prayers that aren’t said the “right” way. I feel like I can’t be intimate with God if I can’t say whatever I want.

I went to a new mtg tonight that I liked but I sulked and felt worse after. I talked to Ashley, did a 4th step on step 11, wrote a list of God attributes, and read “Acceptance was the answer” which had a TON of goodies:

- If I could just control the external environment, the internal environment would then become comfortable. Take care of the internal via the 12 steps and the external takes care of itself.

- Not taking a drink is by far the most important thing I do each day.

- When I stopped living in the problem and began living in the answer, the problem went away.

- Acceptance is the answer - when I am disturbed, it is because I find something unacceptable and I can find no serenity until I accept that it is exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing happens in God’s world by mistake.

- When I complain about me or you, I am complaining about God’s handiwork.

- I don’t know what’s good for me or you.

- AA has given me a new pair of glasses.

- Focus not on defects but on what I can add to something, what’s good about it.

- I can watch my serenity level rise when I discard my expectations.

- I never just sit and do nothing while waiting for God to tell me what to do. Rather, I do whatever is in front of me to be done, and I leave the results up to God.

So I still don’t get it, but I’ll go over it with Ashley and I had a revelation tonight. Of course I am doing all this for me, too - but the way to feel good is to focus on others. What is “giving it away to keep it” if not “seeking first the kingdom of God” which thing I decided to focus on a year ago?

[sualkmedeiors]

Increase Productivity in Your Workday (Without Losing Your Mind)

Ever get the feeling that you’re swamped by an avalanche of emails? Me too. On an average, we receive about 121 emails a day—and this number is set to rise to 140 this year. Now I don’t know about you, but in my book, that’s a lot! And these are just emails from people we work with. It can tank your productivity before you’ve even begun your day.

As marketers, not only do we have to manage those 140 emails a day, we also have to look at emails sent by automated systems—social media spikes, alerts about a potential PR crisis, or even an email that tells you about low open rates about your latest email marketing campaign (ironic, I know). So, in the end, you probably end up with close to 250 emails in your inbox when you get to work every morning.

Oh and let’s not forget the constant pings on Slack. From your team. Or your boss.

At this point, you do one of two things. Give up and grab a giant mug of coffee or spend the rest of your morning tackling your inbox—which may or may not mean you’re ticking off items off of your to-do list. (More often than not, my to-do list is intact and I get maybe three hours—if I’m lucky—to tackle that before my inbox gets flooded again).

So how do you ensure that you’re not overwhelmed and frazzled by 3 pm? How do you stay on top of your game despite the deluge of emails in your inbox?

Here are three things you can do as soon as you get into work to increase productivity.

1. Use an Alert System

We all know how hard it is to contain an endless stream of complaints on social media or a viral blog post that doesn’t necessarily paint the best picture of your brand. You’re likely to leave a bunch of complaints unanswered—at least for a few hours. And nobody wants to do that. But you’re still human right?

The workaround for this is to anticipate a PR crisis before it grows into your worst nightmare. At Talkwalker, we use Talkwalker Alerts, our in-house alert system to keep track of our brand or latest campaign. This not only helps us take prompt action if we notice a potential crisis in the works, it also helps us understand what our customers think of our products or campaigns. It just takes a few seconds to set up an alert and then, it’s a matter of checking them as soon as we get in. There are both paid and free products for brand tracking—it really depends on your needs which will be right for you and your brand.

Why Check Your Brand Mentions?

It’s important to check your alerts regularly is because it helps you prioritize your actions for the rest of the day. Remember the deluge of social messages we just referred to? If you know within the first few minutes of entering the office that you have to tackle them, you can plan your day better, shift a few meetings around and dedicate your energy to sorting it out without wasting anyone’s time.

Be sure to also track your competition. You can use this information to develop strategy, create new campaigns to reach new audiences, and above all, know what you’re up against.

2. Optimize Your Calendar

Your calendar is your best friend when it comes to productivity. It tells your coworkers when they can and can’t reach out to you. Checking your calendar as soon as you get to work means that you can again figure out how you’ll use the time you have during the day to make sure you make every minute count. Too many meetings mean that you’re going to lose focus and end up being unproductive for the few hours you do have to get through your list of things.

How To Say No Without Actually Saying it

So how do you handle something like this? If you have to excuse yourself from a meeting, you might end up in a sticky situation—how do you politely tell your coworkers that your workload needs more attention and you can’t make it to a meeting for the annual ski trip without looking like a spoil-sport?

Block time for yourself in your calendar to focus on tasks that cannot wait. Maybe book a two-hour slot a few mornings a week to ensure that no one schedules meetings you have to attend at that time and you can take care of writing that blog post you’ve been meaning to do forever or working on the content for your latest webinar. You don’t always have to put in extra hours to meet your deadlines within the 9-5  window. A little bit of planning can ensure that you stay on top of your game.

And last but not least—try and follow your calendar to the best of your ability.

3. Make KPIs Your Priority

This may seem like it’s obvious but it’s easier to get distracted by side projects than you’d think. In the end, your KPIs are what count. For instance, if you’re responsible for PR in your organization and if your goal is to get coverage in three major publications a month, you should check in on where you are first thing in the morning. If it’s the 15th of the month and you’ve not hit even a single publication, you know how to prioritize the rest of your days.

Or, if you’re in charge of bringing in a certain number of leads every month, it’s important to check your numbers on a daily basis. This will help you plan the rest of your marketing activities for the month and help you hit that number. It’s important to know where you’re at in order to plan what to prioritize more efficiently and which projects you would need to put on the backburner or say no to.

It also goes without saying that being more productive includes blocking out tabs and notifications from sites like Facebook. For instance, do you really need to check your News Feed every hour? It really isn’t that important, unless you’re on your company account.

Now that you’re up to speed about what needs to be done and have a good idea of where you’re at, you can go and grab that cup of coffee without any doubts or without being overwhelmed.

Bonus Tip

Use headphones without listening to music. Studies show that if you’re in an open space office design, you’re more likely to be distracted by what your colleagues are doing. And none of that is your fault really—it’s pretty normal. A pretty good hack for this is to use headphones without any music on, which could, to a certain extent make your coworkers think twice about approaching you for a post-lunch cup of coffee.

What are your productivity hacks? How do you organize your work day to keep ahead? Tell me about your best practices in the comments.

The post Increase Productivity in Your Workday (Without Losing Your Mind) appeared first on Marketo Marketing Blog - Best Practices and Thought Leadership.

from https://blog.marketo.com/2018/03/increase-productivity-in-your-workday-without-losing-your-mind.html