johnro

Tag: love

  • What I Admire Most: Not the Loudest Voice, But the True Leader

    What I Admire Most: Not the Loudest Voice, But the True Leader

    Daily writing prompt
    What is something others do that sparks your admiration?
    View all responses

    If you had asked me this question twenty years ago, my answer would have been immediate, and, looking back, a little superficial.

    When I was young and perhaps a bit naive, I admired performers. I looked up to the people who could stand in front of a crowded room and command attention. I admired the speakers who could think on their feet, the debaters who could win any argument, and the “strong” personalities who never seemed to back down.

    To my younger self, that was leadership. It was about the spotlight. It was about volume. It was about winning.

    But as I’ve gotten older, my definition of “admirable” has shifted entirely. I’ve realized that what I was admiring wasn’t leadership; it was just charisma.

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  • More Than Quiet

    More Than Quiet

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s something most people don’t know about you?
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    Most people see me as the quiet one. When I’m in a large group, there are usually people who do most of the talking. In that situation, I usually keep quiet and like to listen. When I’m in a smaller group, or perhaps in a one on one situation, I like to participate in a balanced conversation.

    It’s not that I like being quiet, quiet the opposite. Like everyone else I have my opinions and thoughts. It’s just that I really dislike being interrupted I talk, so I try not to do that to others. These days, I find that people love to talk. They talk fast, and move from topic to topic. Sometimes I feel like if I want to contribute, I’d have to interrupt, but I try to avoid that.

    I can be talkative if I want, but I find myself not needing to as much. Maybe it’s age, but I find more value in listening now. Then there are those who love to dominate conversations, taking up most of the time. I find myself losing motivation to talk to those folks.

    People often misunderstand quiet people. Quiet people are usually seen as shy, even nice, or maybe dull. But quiet doesn’t mean we’re just sitting back. We think before we speak. We listen. And then we choose to talk.

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  • Trying Something New: Doing Things Alone in Public

    Trying Something New: Doing Things Alone in Public

    Daily writing prompt
    What could you try for the first time?
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    I had to think hard before I could remember the last time I did something fun by myself — not errands, not a workout, just something for me. The best I could come up with was shooting hoops or maybe window shopping. It’s funny: for someone who enjoys being alone, I rarely go out alone.

    Maybe it’s because doing things solo costs money. When I’m with others, spending feels justified — events, movies, trips — but when it’s just me, I’d rather save the money. It feels selfish somehow, like I should save that money for something “real.”

    At home, I’m comfortable alone. I work out, watch sports, read, and stream shows — things that keep my mind busy. But being alone in the world feels different. It’s not just quiet; it’s exposure. I envy people who can eat out or watch a movie solo without caring who notices. They seem confident in their own company.

    If I were to start, I’d keep it simple — go see a movie alone. It’s low effort and doesn’t require small talk. Still, I know I’d regret it and think about how I could’ve just watched something at home. But there’s something appealing about the freedom — no coordinating, no compromises, no worrying about anyone else’s preferences. Just all me, doing what I want.

    That freedom is what draws me to it. But there’s also a small fear: that people might see me sitting alone and think it’s sad. Maybe that comes from childhood — the instinct to not look “left out.”

    Maybe the trick is to focus on the moment — the movie, the meal, the game — and stop caring about others. Comfort probably starts there: when you stop needing your solitude to be hidden.

    Doing things solo doesn’t have to mean isolation; it can mean discovery. Maybe there are parts of me I haven’t met yet — interests, capabilities — waiting for me to start.

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  • Learning to Live with Feeling Out of Place

    Learning to Live with Feeling Out of Place

    Daily writing prompt
    Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.
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    If I look back on my life, one theme that pops up again and again is the feeling of being out of place. It’s shown up in different ways over the years—sometimes subtle, sometimes painfully obvious—but it’s always been there in one form or another.

    When I was a kid, I moved from my place of birth Paraguay to the U.S., and then later from a city to another city. Both were big shifts, and both left me scrambling to fit in. It’s not easy as a child to navigate a new culture, new classmates, and a different way of doing things. You learn quickly that little differences—what you eat, how you talk, what you know or don’t know—can make you stand out. And when you’re young, standing out doesn’t always feel like a good thing.

    That feeling carried into my work years, too. There’s a certain comfort in working with the same people for a long time, building rhythms and shared understandings. But when you suddenly join a new team, that comfort disappears, and you feel like the odd one out. Post-COVID, it hit me in a new way: walking back into an office after years of remote work felt strange and foreign. Even something as simple as going to a team outing made me aware that I’m now much older than many of my coworkers. That’s not something I used to notice before, but suddenly it stood out.

    And then there’s my personal life. My wife is great at connecting with other parents through our kids’ school activities. I usually leave that to her, and she thrives in those social circles. But when I tag along to a parent gathering, I can feel that familiar awkwardness creep in. She knows people, and I don’t. She’s at ease, and I’m not. It’s not a terrible feeling, but it’s there—the sense that I don’t quite belong.

    Over time, though, I’ve learned not to fight it so much. Being out of place isn’t something you can always fix, and honestly, you don’t always need to. Sometimes I take the awkwardness in stride. Other times, I just avoid the situations where I know I’ll feel that way, and that’s fine too. What I’ve come to realize is that feeling out of place is simply part of life. Everyone experiences it. And once you accept that, it doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

    It’s not about eliminating the discomfort—it’s about recognizing it, and living with it.

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  • Staying Professional When It’s Easier Not To

    Staying Professional When It’s Easier Not To

    Early in my career, I worked closely with a colleague who, for reasons I’ll never fully understand, decided I was “their person.” Whenever something came up — a bug to chase down, a query to run, data to pull — they’d come straight to me. At first, it felt flattering. Being needed always carries a certain weight, especially when you’re new. But over time, the relationship started to drift into something a little more complicated.

    This colleague grew comfortable enough with me to share their unfiltered thoughts about others on the team. They would complain when people spoke up too much in meetings or grumble about how slowly someone worked. One day, they sent me a message complaining about a teammate taking too long to finish a task. And for the first time, I pushed back.

    I said: “She does take time, but she does complete her work.”

    Not exactly a bold speech, but it was enough to draw a line. The response I got back was a crunchy face emoji — one of those moments where you know instantly you’ve embarrassed someone. From that point on, they stopped venting to me about other people. But they also went cold. Conversations turned short. The easy rapport we’d built evaporated.

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