The Year-End Reflection: Writing, Consistency, and Leaving a Legacy Through Writing

What does it really take to leave a mark—not just through big, bold achievements, but through the small, steady actions that quietly shape who we become?

As the year winds down, it feels like the right time for reflection—not just on where I’ve been, but on who I want to become.

I’ve started publishing blog posts again after a long hiatus, and with the year ending, I find myself thinking a lot about self-improvement. These small acts of consistency—like writing—fit into a much bigger picture of who I want to be. 

My last run of posts was in late August, and while I’m proud to be back, I can’t shake the frustration of my inconsistency. I want to be the type of person who maintains a steady rhythm, but for now, I’ll take pride in the simple fact that I’m showing up at all. 

There’s a certain thrill in finishing something that’s for me. I write to document my thoughts and find clarity, and I secretly hope others find value in it as I’m figuring out my style.

The Struggle to Stay Consistent: Writing as a Form of Showing Up for Myself

Lately, I’ve been wondering: Could I become a prolific writer? 

I think of comedians like Jerry Seinfeld, who writes every day, and Seth Godin, who has published daily blog posts for years. I remind myself of Seinfeld’s honesty—'Most of what I write is garbage,' as he says. ‘It’s the golden nuggets that count.’ Could I do that? Could I dedicate 18 minutes a day to writing my own golden nuggets?

I first came across the idea of dedicating just 18 minutes a day to a craft in a previous blog post, Comfort Zones: A Casual Comment’s Call to Action, where I discuss how this small but consistent effort can lead to significant skill-building over time. You can read more about it by clicking the blog title. 

Today is one of those “maintenance writing” days—not particularly inspired, but necessary to keep the habit alive. Maybe these seemingly mundane sessions are the fuel for bigger ideas, like exploring Athens and finding stories to tell. 

I sit here imagining how I should explore Athens every weekend, documenting my experiences, taking photos, and sharing it all. But then the doubts creep in. Will it be worth my time? Will those photos just sit on my phone? Will I have enough material to post? And why does posting even matter to me?

Social media feels like a tug-of-war. I want to share more personal moments, but I’ve tried so hard to keep my professional page focused on work. Writing has always been about self-expression, so it feels strange to compartmentalize my online presence, to separate what’s personal from what’s professional. 

The truth is, that doesn’t feel like me anymore. I want to share whatever I want, whenever I want. Yet, I don’t. Why not? Who am I trying to please? 

This year I’ll stop overthinking it and just document my life for myself—no algorithm needed.

Learning from Creative Icons About Resilience and Self-Expression

Perhaps my first adventure could be a visit to the Maria Callas museum. Her story has me thinking about how creativity and legacy intertwine, and it brings me back to my own reflections on what it means to leave a mark. 

I’ve become so curious about her life. It was extraordinary, but also tragically marked. 

As part of this curiosity, I took myself on a solo date, which you can read about in my post 'A Solo Date in the Making: Walking, People-Watching, and the Anticipation of a Movie.'

Despite her unparalleled talent, she endured relentless cruelty—not just from her peers and tabloids, but also from her mother, who treated her harshly, while her father remained distant and indifferent. 

Her sister, who was equally as mean and jealous as her mother, forced Maria to find solace in her music. She was taken advantage of throughout her life, exploited for money and fame, and yet, I question: How does someone survive such pain and rise above it to dominate the opera world? 

Callas achieved greatness but at an immense personal cost. She seemed to have won the lottery in talent but lost everything else: love, connection, and even peace of mind.

Did she die from heartache, from a life too full of loneliness and sacrifice?

I wonder if I’ll ever dominate anything the way she did. What will I be known for? In what field? How do I build a name and reputation so strong that my presence is felt the moment I walk into a room? 

That’s who I want to be… or so I say. I’m not sure I believe it yet.

It leaves me questioning whether the immense personal cost is an inevitable part of achieving such heights.

Where I Go From Here: Leaving A Legacy Through Writing?

As the year ends, these are the questions I’m grappling with. They tie back to everything I’ve been thinking about: the discipline of writing, the push and pull of social media, and the desire to explore Athens. 

Each thread feels like a piece of the bigger puzzle—figuring out who I am and who I want to be in the year ahead. I’m learning to sit with the uncertainty, to let it fuel my curiosity instead of my self-doubt. 

I don’t need to know exactly who I want to be yet. I just know that I want to dominate somewhere, and for now, I’ll keep showing up—18 minutes a day—and see where this writing habit leads me.