LilyOfTheArctic

Friendly neighbourhood thought slinger.

Category: Uncategorized

How To Be Successful – For Dummies

Success can be defined a hundred million different ways. It’s one of those things that is completely subjective to a single individual opinion. We all want to lead successful lives. We all want some sort of recognition for our efforts. We all want comfort and security. We are at the age now where we are starting to plan and prepare for our future but we have no idea where to start or what to do to get us there. I’d like to share some simple yet crucial tips that will help you on your journey to success.

1.)Lose the ego

Confidence is a desirable trait in business. However, do not trot into the world with a know-it-all attitude. You must learn to surround yourself with people who are more successful and experienced than you are, instead of only surrounding yourself with those who admire you. The benefits are never-ending. Ask questions and listen intently. You’ll thank yourself for it later.

2.) Eye contact

The power of eye contact is exponential. It’s a huge factor in successful relationships, whether it’s business or personal. Ever wonder why babies can put you under their spell so easily? It’s not just because they’re cute. It’s because they force eye contact with you. As we develop into adults, we lose the ability to hold a stare. The reason for this is most likely our aversion to intimidation or confrontation. Most of us struggle with this particular aspect of communication. Fortunately, this is something that can be taught to us once again. It is a crucial component to business as it shows confidence and genuineness. Make sure that your eye contact is genuine and not forced. People can tell the difference.

3.) Give a shit

People can tell when you don’t care, or if you’re just after their money. This kind of unpredictable behavior is what makes a business go from “thanks”, to “no thanks.” If I was a store owner, I would make it my business to give a shit. IN MY HUMBLE OPINION – Retail stores would sell 10X the amount of clothing if they hired employees who paid a little bit more attention to the needs of their customers. For example, knowing what kind of clothing looks good on different body shapes! As a business, this kind of training is worth it’s weight in gold. It’s like giving your customers their own personal shopper. Jean Machine and French Connection are the only 2 stores that I can think of that take the ‘personal shopper’ approach to normal consumers on a daily basis. Thanks guys! It doesn’t go unnoticed! BUSINESS – YOU’RE DOING IT RIGHT!

4.) Network! Network! Network!

The currency of the future is not all dollars and cents. There is so much value in personal networks. Be social. Reach out to communities and other like-minded start-ups like yourself. Get yourself out there and have fun. If you go out with the expectation of expanding your network for the sake of quick-and-fast connections, your desperation will be transparent. Be genuine and your connections will gel together.

5.) Pick A Mentor

I think that this one is pretty straight forward. A mentor is someone who you admire or look up to in business who can guide you and prep you for your journey to success. Your mentor does not have to be someone whom you see every day or someone that you’ve even met before, as long as they are able to inspire you and push you forward with your goals.

Or… just bag yourself a rich one. ( Kidding of course, you lazy shmuck! )

I hope that these 5 tips are helpful on your journey to success. If you’d like to hear more, please let me know!

Good luck to you!

Emalee/Lily Of The Arctic

Holy Sunday After Dark

…And as the grey orbs skulked about in the forefront of my vision, I couldn’t help but be swept away into the madness of this paranormal occurance. My core was struck with utter fear as my courage dove back into the dark pockets of my soul; abandoning me in my time of need. My shoulders shook uncontrollably while the rest of my limbs remained paralyzed for what felt like an eternity. And while I lay there completely helpless, alone, and unable to defend myself, I felt a tiny drop of liquid splash onto my forehead. Another drop followed soon after. And another after that. I freed my hand from this self-induced telepathic paralysis, and put my wrist to my head; it was dry. Another drop of liquid poured lightly onto my forehead. My reflexes were sharp and efficient but by the time I reached for my forehead once more, there was no liquid to be found. I looked to the ceiling to see if there was a leak from the upstairs neighbouring apartment; there was not. After moments of confusion, the orbs slowly started to disappear into the night, taking my fear with them, but leaving me with a million questions; none of which could be answered by anyone limited to 5 measly senses. I picked up my legs, and threw them off of the side of the bed. As if being spiritually coerced, I walked to my front door and unlocked it. I left the suite, dragging my feet down the hallway. “Someone at the end of this dim-lit hallway will help me. Right?”

To be continued…

Emalee F
Lily Of The Arctic

Coffee, Anyone?

Sunday is like that first sip of hot morning coffee after a week of rotting in a cell. Allow me to guide you through my week-long journey from the warden’s shackles, to bliss.

Hot Coffee

(Monday-Wednesday) It only takes a few moments for the entire urn to fill, but I find myself savouring the therapeutic aroma of ground coffee beans, for what feels like, an eternity. Awaiting that first sip is agonizing torture like sitting in the hole for weeks at a time.

(Thursday) As I pour the liquid gold into a very large rounded mug, I notice the intensity of the aroma becoming greater and greater. It’s just within my grasp but it is not yet mine. Luckily my restraints are starting to feel a little more loose with each passing day.

(Friday) As I sit and watch from my cell, the steam dances from the belly of the liquid to my nostrils and it is aromatic bliss. It’s almost at my fingertips!

(Saturday)  The rounded white mug has met with a small portion of milk and granulated sugar. A perfect combination to satisfy even the most pernicious beasts that the sun drags over the horizon each morning.

 (Sunday) As I slowly press my lips against the mug and tilt both my head and my wrist back slightly, the gold slowly ventures onto my tongue, rendering me paralyzed and blind for half of a minute.  Once I realize that I still have an entire mug of coffee to drink, I giggle to myself as I lock up the warden for a day and hide the key.

“This is my day warden. I’ll see you on Monday.”

 

Emalee F

Lily Of The Arctic

Once Upon A Nightmare

A snippet from an old dream of mine. I wrote this when I was 18!

 

A narrow alley snakes through a dark neighbourhood , and a tall, gangly figure stands at the end of it. It frightens her, but she continues to walk forward.  She can feel her pulse in her throat, and her hands are quivering and drenched in sweat. She tries to persuade her legs to stop walking but they continue to slowly march forward towards the figure at the end of the alley.

She can feel that a mural of fear is painted across her face. What is at the end of the alley? Why must she go forth and discover it? Her neck melts deep into her shoulders as she bows her head down. She must keep her eyes on the pavement so she can grasp onto her sanity. She has just taken her 40th step towards the figure at the end of the alley. Her eyes are glued to her shoes, and she begins to walk  faster. Faster. Faster. 43. 49. 52. She understands that the end is near but her neck will not reappear and her head will not sit upright. She can’t see what is in front of her and she becomes rigid with fear of the unknown. 56. 58. 60.

She drops to her knees and starts to crawl forward. She feels no pain as her knee caps smash against the rocky pavement. She wants to turn around and run away but her body drags her along the alley. Her palms rip open from the rocks and broken glass on the ground. There is blood everywhere. She can see it streaming through the crevices of her fingers and dripping down onto the ground. She can’t feel the wound so she ignores it, and continues to crawl. Why can’t she lift her head up? She created this world in her subconscious where nothing makes any sense, but she’s almost there.

She slowly regains the strength in her neck and she brings her chin up to her shoulders. There is a pair of spindly legs standing directly in front of her. She slowly starts to stand up. She brings her right leg up first, maintaining balance with her hands still on the pavement. She is still terrified. She stands up to look at the figure but the figure is faceless. Her mouth is dry and she can’t speak, although she tries. She reaches out to touch the figure by caressing its cheek. Her hand is moving in slow motion as her fingertips quiver slightly from fear and intrigue. The faceless angel is dirty, but has skin that is cashmere soft. She feels a sense of calm wash over her.  She is safe.The figure reaches out to touch her arm and its touch was cool, and damp. After a few very short seconds of intrigue and intense emotions from her discovery, she finds herself at the beginning of the winding alley again. Everything turns to black and white and the alley melts back into blackness. The figure disappears, and her wounds heal instantly. Everything is dark, and forver dark it shall remain, until the sun rises once again.

 

The Serpent Inside

—-

  Our words, when spoken in anger, are the tormented spirits of our being. They skulk around our tongues, escape through the ridges of our teeth, across our lips and disperse aggressively into the atmosphere. And just as easily as those hateful words escape our grasp, they can return to haunt us with a vengeance.

           Thoughts have the ability to manifest themselves into bacteria and spike from our lips like daggers; slashing away at the fleshy vulnerability that is human emotion. Although I insist that words spoken in haste will unleash an evil most unforgiving, it is my unrelenting ego that insists that the birth of language (of any kind) also brought forth the birth of regret; thus revealing the humiliating, yet very liberating shackels of human benevolence. We understand this, and so we must be patient with our thoughts and choose our words carefully, or suffer the spiritual consequences. If we must speak and give birth to regret, then we must not give power to our regrets, for regret is a beast so foul, not even time itself can slay it. 

It is crucial that we understand the power behind our words and our voices. We must utilize this dangerous and beautiful gift of communication for the better of mankind. Let us collectively push our oars together against the thrashing waves of the storm and come out on the other side more inspired and grateful than ever before. Strive to inspire and be inspired by the thoughts and words of others, but most importantly, by the thoughts and words of yourself.

Emalee Fromstein/Lily Of The Arctic

Seduction Of Ink

   I don’t understand how authors can string together a novel so seemingly effortlessly. Authors are like snake charmers; making their words shimmy gracefully around your mind. It’s as if they have put you into a trance, creating a sultry rhythm between their words and your thoughts. I am forever searching for this treasure chest full of literary charisma that they seem to have stumbled upon. There is an agony to writing that not many people can understand. It is pure lustful torture and I am its’ begging mistress!

 

Emalee Fromstein/ Lily Of The Arctic

 

 

 

 

 

My Cheet Coades Tu Wryting Goodley

Here it is guys. The moment you’ve never waited for. You will have little to no use for this information, but you will probably go ahead and read it anyway, won’t you? Wimps.

I want to share a secret with you. This will hopefully inspire young writers who are struggling with their ideas. It’s helped me with my writers block on many different occasions. It is simple & silly – and I swear by it.

When reading novels by other authors, I often imagine that I am the one who has written the book. This method allows me to read with the greatest care. Writers unfortunately have an ego, and will read their own work over and over again, criticizing every word in every sentence until they feel that it’s perfect. In fact, writers are so critical of their own work that they often can’t conjure new and inspiring thoughts, for fear of becoming discouraged by their own tormented criticisms. The problem with this is that they’re only reading and criticizing one specific writing style; their own!  

By reading someone else’s work as if it is your own writing, you can start to appreciate and learn from different writing styles, and learn to respect and criticize good and bad writing. Once you have a better understanding of what good and bad writing is, you can apply that understanding to your own writing. You know which pieces of “your” writing you enjoyed and which pieces you did not.

Some novels are so badly written that I’ll take it personally, and as a result I will strive to become a better writer.We need good and evil in order to differentiate between the two, just like we need good and bad writing. Keep it coming! I’m just getting started.

MOAR BAD NOVEL PLEES. I NEED MOAR LERNING POWUR.

Okay, bye.

Emalee/Lily Of The Arctic

 

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