My name is Niah. I am more than the words I write on this blog, but sometimes I am these words. These words are representations of my interests, my dislikes, troubles, tales, aspirations, and thoughts. The only reason we feel so distant is because you can’t fully envision the storage unit in which these words are harnessed; you can’t envision me. Many of my readers will skim through my lengthy, on going pieces and forget about what it is they read or why they even read it at all, but I want to have an impact, an imprint, a purpose to taking 5 minutes of your day. I want to be successful; my version of success is not being rich, so stay tuned for the uncovered truth.
I’m not strategically following some get-rich-quick scheme to lead me on the road to success. But before I tell you what I am doing, let me briefly expand on what I mean by success.
To be accomplished, I want to develop content that I’m monumentally proud of; I don’t just want to shovel out loads of crap. To be complete, I wish to be genuinely content with who I am as a person and satisfied with the causes I’m supporting and the ones I’m attacking with guerilla warfare tactics. If I know what I’m doing, saying, promoting and repudiating is just, then I know I’m being the best version of myself, and that’s really all success means to me.
So back to that road I’m “following”…. For starters, I’m trying to be recognized for what I love to do in my small circle of friends, family, and acquaintances. If the ones I adore can visualize my appreciation for the particular subject I admire most, they may just see it necessary to subsequently share my content with others they see fit to share it with. Be known.
I know my advice may sound extremely vulgar and childish in much of its entirety and that’s because it is. I shouldn’t have to be a published, middle aged, male author to be well known, relatable and respected. I should have to be human, which I am. I’m going to be 15 on December the 6th. I feel like I’m going to be 37,bald, and a victim of arthritis. Life has thrown some extreme hardships my way, believe it or not, but I fought for what I felt was the side of the oppressed, and I struggled to become accepting of who I am. I feel somewhat successful.
I’m also being a bit too open with the inter web and applying for blogging/writing positions like I’m an experienced young adult with the potential to impact the lives of many given the few resources of a high speed internet connection, caffeine preferably in the form of a caramel macchiato and a fairly mute,cozy precinct. In reality, I’m not quite yet a young adult and I have yet to impact a life. This paragraph is a pretty discreet overview of my future, because I know minds change, thoughts shift, hearts become misshapen and ideas grow old. I do however use LinkedIn to find volunteer opportunities to enhance my experience in the fields of journalism, creative writing, poetry, research and whatever forms of locutions/writings I encounter along the course of my ‘career’.
Aside from my attempt at exposure and experience, I try and involve myself in both tedious and revolutionary events that occur within a bird’s eye view and amongst the dimensions of my reach. I used to be, and still kind of am, a homebody. My circle of advocates and close relatives continuously encourage me to join new groups, clubs, activities, adventurous journeys and undiscovered routes. Their consistent and stable encouragement has allowed me to become a more modern and developed example of a human being, as oppose to an ingrown hair within the extravagant and abused body of Mother Earth.
I practice. They [everybody with an idealistic approach to life] parades this claim that practice makes perfect; this implies there is such is a thing as perfect. I don’t think there is such a thing here on Earth, except for Earth itself, but I can say practice does improve one’s skill a majority of the time. This is a claim I could easily support with stiff evidence, including personal examples of my own if necessary. I won’t bother to open a healing wound with this matter. My point is a clean one.; I write everyday on whatever picks at my thoughts in that moment. My undeviating devotion is a major contributor to the advancement of my art.
These mediocre steps are the ones that are slowly, yet efficiently dragging me to the safe haven I’ve dreamt of residing in. Though my ethnicity, gender, religion, and age may result in some mishaps and downfalls, my constant improvement and love for writing will always allow me to continue doing what it is I love most, and this should be a normal phenomenon for all.