Write the tale that scares you
Michaela Coel taught me well.
Since September of last year, most of my mornings have started off in the same way: writing in my journal or another notebook, “Today I am going to create an amazing day!”
I knew I was on the road to mucking up when I stopped writing those words consistently.
Staying the Course
Those morning motivations have become a part of me. As a person who prides themself on being painfully self-aware, I knew that not writing my morning pages was an indication that I was hiding from myself.
It was all a feeble attempt to intentionally stop speaking to myself.
The theme of hiding from myself, or not wanting to talk with myself, is something I explored in BE HERE NOW.
I’d been avoiding talking to myself for a few weeks. It wasn’t even until I began drafting this entry that I realized I’ve had this same conversation with myself before. Moments like this have happened to me a lot lately— I feel myself slipping, falling into a pit of discomfort and familiarity and I think, “Where have I seen this before?”
“Ah,” I say to myself when I finally look in the mirror.
I’ve seen it before because I’ve lived it before. Because I’ve shared this experience with others, of hiding from myself and having to find my way back to myself. Because someone set up a camera in my home office and intentionally hit [record] for my short film.
By the end of July, I’d had enough of hiding. I remembered that relapse of any kind is a part of the process. I accepted that I may fall off and have to re-build from where I am. I accepted that I made a conscious choice to start again and again and again repeat that cycle for as long as I am alive.
Today began like so many of my days since September 2024: hunched over on my couch, blinking crusties out of my eyes, and writing in my journal, “Today I am going to create an amazing day!”
I hope you create an amazing one too.
BE HERE NOW, My First Artist Talkback
In early July, I held the second screening for my short film and my first artist talkback. It was a night wildly different than anything I have ever experienced.
At the premiere in April 2025, I was told rather lovingly (and forcefully by some) that I could never do another event for this film without having a talkback or AMA. It left people feeling, brimming with questions and a desire to learn more behind the meaning.
Instead the neophyte in me left everyone with questions as I ushered them out of the space. It’s much better to leave people with questions. Like a magician, I couldn’t tell them all my secrets. Like Gandalf, I had to keep them.
That’s what I told myself – until more and more people kept asking me for an AMA (ask me anything).
I learned from my experience at the premiere in April, and walked into July’s screening prepared to spill my soul to friends, colleagues, and complete strangers.
I’m grateful I did.
Towards the end of the night, I was asked what I would tell the version of myself who began creating the film back in 2024.
My answer? “Do it scared,” and borrowing a line from Michaela Coel, “write the tale that scares you.” Those words are even at the top of this page as I draft this entry.
“Write the tale that scares you.”
More screenings and artist talkbacks of BE HERE NOW are on the way. I’ll share them here and on my website at kmrobles.com/events.
You’re a Runner Kenny: My First 5k
Earlier this year I set a goal for myself: get more consistent at movement 3 days a week.
Eventually I got there, but without anything specific to hold onto, it was just me going to the gym for hours on end 3 times a week. It didn’t feel connected to anything and eventually, my desire for something new grew.
In April I decided to get even more specific and tie my movement to a bigger goal: run a 5k before the end of June.
Running has always been something I enjoyed, but I have never considered myself a runner. I ran playing pick-up basketball games in middle and high school. I ran during rugby matches in college and in my early 20’s. I ran whenever I needed to clear my head as my 20’s ended and in my (earlier) 30’s. That was my relationship with running – a necessity for a sport, to stay fit, or to relieve stress.
Training for a race longer than a mile, running with others during a timed event, and competing for a medal were completely foreign for me. Then on Sunday, May 4, 2025, weeks after I had told myself I would start running, I saw an Instagram story from a friend who ran on the treadmill.
Without hesitation, I laced up and went outside in the rain.
I got out there and ran what felt like the hardest mile of my life. Lungs burning, hair dripping, lungs tight. When it was finally over, I forced myself to take a photo. To document what I would hope would become a fun habit.
That first run felt like shit. But I was proud I did something different than what I was used to.
After that first run, I began my training consistently. I found training guides online, followed runners and physiotherapists on Tik Tok to motivate me, and signed up for a 5k an hour away from my home.
I trained for 2 months, completed 26 runs, and had several breakdowns and breakthroughs before race day.
The day of my 5k was also a day unlike any other. It was so much fun to do a Christmas in July themed run, complete with Mr & Mrs Clause, an inflatable snowman that I high-fived during the run, and children, teens, and adults running for fun.
I told myself I would give running 3 months. Here I am at month 4, still going strong and still enjoying running. Mostly anyways - not every run is fun, but I try to always have some fun.
My training has changed now that I no longer have a 5k in my near future, but that will change soon.
Running taught me that I can do hard things.
I hope you know that you can do hard things too.
Forging on With Pitching Essays & Articles
This summer I was fortunate enough to take part in a Summer Writing Workshop with The Forge, a magazine on organizing strategy and practice built by and for organizers. The workshop was facilitated by Akin Olla (check him out on Substack). The purpose of the workshop was to give participants the tools to pitch stronger political articles and personal essays.
It was the workshop I needed to build my confidence as a writer and provide me with the space to explore topics I keep burying in my Notion Notebook out of fear.
During our last session, I found myself in a small group where we decided to share our insecurities. To my surprise, the others in my group named their fear of being seen. It was something the three of us could all relate to, and support each other through. It was the end of the class that I needed.
To know I’m not alone, and to make an active choice to push against my fears.
Next week I aim to pitch my article. Even if it doesn’t get picked up by my first choice, I’ll be pitching it to other outlets.
If the workshop has taught me anything, it’s to keep going. To keep writing. To keep growing.
Thanks for being along for the ride and subscribing to my digital archive and public journal, Curiously Human. If this entry resonated with you or helped you to feel a little less alone, please share my Substack by re-posting it on your feed or sending it to someone you know. This allows me to grow Curiously Human, which in turn allows my art to blossom.
Kenyatta ✨
This has me in tears. I felt so much of this, so deeply because I do better when I'm journaling and writing to myself when I wake up, but that terror of talking to myself, of seeing myself (being seen at all, despite my also overwhelming desire to be seen)... I pride myself on the same self-awareness, and I hate that I've been so disconnected and scared to look at myself again. Thank you for this. Idk yet how it will change what I do tomorrow, or the day after, but I know I needed it.