Communication

      

      Each of us is bound to some degree of reprieve. In my case, I could always rely on honest communication. We could cross many lines in one word or we could bridge gaps in just a simple tap on the shoulder. Life is easier that way. Apprehensions could be relieved and stress could go one notch lower. I just wish that actual conversations could exist in a time like ours, when technology kills the art of living and degrades the etiquette of language.

       I am not totally against the haste of rising technology today. It actually made things that we once thought impossible happen. I could site a million instances when technology made life easier for me, but what came along with that is a billion moments when life rushes by with a speed of a jet plane- fast and fleeting. Also, communication is more efficient if done personally. However, too much texting, chatting and emailing could break the personal touch that an actual conversation covers.

       There are two ways to communicate to others. It could be done verbally or non-verbally. written communication, speech and conversations are considered verbal communication, whereas gestures, physical reactions and facial expressions are non-verbal ways of communication. There is much to talk when it comes to communicating with different people, but I'd rather not divulge too much, else this post would be too draggy.

       A simple smile or a light hug could actually ease the tension that one feels, although, I myself hates too much skin contact from the opposite sex. I could still attest to my claim earlier concerning the light actions from people. A hug could lift your spirits, or in my case loosen up my anxiety over an interview. 

       Don't forget to tell or show your love to people around you when you have the time, instead of losing the rest of your day to mindless internet gawking. Believe me, the world looks more picturesque when we laugh and comfort one another.

      

Untitled Piece

Here's the story telling piece I wrote. I'm not so sure if this will  win us the favor of the judges, but I would like an honest opinion from you guys. Thanks for reading, and spending  your time with this crappy or whatever post. Happy reading !

              In a small shaggy apartment, lives a family of two: a mother and a daughter. Day by day, they live with their heads held high in their low ceilinged residence. They wake as the first rays of light penetrate the handmade bed where they lay, cold but comfortable in each other’s warmth.  Meager meals of potatoes or corn fill their bellies after saying their morning prayers.  After that, the daughter, Shiela, would arduously do her daily routines before heading off to the nearest school.

            One foggy morning, Shiela was leaping from rock to rock to avoid the wet muddy ground. The downpour from the previous night created loud noisy steps as she made her way to school. Splash! Splash! She could feel the muddy water seeping into the hole on her shoes. Splash! Splash! Now the murky drops were getting her clothes dirty too. “Oh Lord, please let a familiar car pass by, so I can get a hitch ride to school,” She prayed.

            A few minutes later, their neighbor’s motorcycle passed by, and splashed her more of the brown substance. “Hop in Shiela. I’ll take you to school,” Shiela was disgruntled at the sudden kindness of her neighbor, and thanked the Lord for answering her prayers. It wasn’t a slick and chic car, but it made her trip easier. She accepted the neighbor’s offer and thanked him with a wide toothy grin. “Thank you for the ride, kuya!”

            In the middle of the road, the engine of the motorcycle came to a sputtering stop. Their neighbor shouted a string of curses, which made Shiela wince. Her mother never cursed even when the going gets tough. Shiela thanked the driver again before she started walking once more.

A few more steps brought her to a bakery owned by their rich neighbor. Although she had breakfast earlier, her stomach gave a quiet growl as the smell of freshly baked bread waft throughout the area. “Hmmmm. Lord I hope I can eat delicious bread from that bakery,” she prayed silently as she inhaled the pleasant smell. Suddenly, their middle aged neighbor bumped her from behind which caused her to topple over.

“I’m so sorry Shiela. Here, take this biscuits as a sign of my apology,” the middle-aged man handed her the biscuits. Shiela was bruised, but she silently thanked the Lord for their neighbor’s sweet pity. It wasn’t the bread she hoped for, but it can cover the gnawing hunger she felt. She ate the biscuits and thanked him with a healthy smile. “Thank you for the biscuits manong!”

They ate while walking for a while, when another man rushed past them and bumped their middle-aged neighbor on his shoulder blades. Their neighbor shoved the man, and a brawl ensued after their tempers ran out. Shiela’s mother never spanked her even if she sometimes crossed the lines. Shiela hurriedly backed away from the slowly gathering crowd, and made her way to school alone.

A few more blocks, and she would finally reach the school gates, when her hand stitched bag gave way and spilled the contents of her bag- tattered books, broken pencils and scratch papers- on the ground. “Oh Lord! Please help me get through this day,” she prayed silently, while she busily picked her things. Her eyes suddenly blurred with tears from all the misfortune she encountered even before the day fully started.

A hand tapped her shoulders as she stood up. It was their old neighbor this time, holding a sturdy bag in one hand, and a cane on the other hand. Shiela looked up as their old neighbor placed the bag in her hands. “I’m supposed to give that to my daughter, but she already owns a collection of bags. This would help your cause more,” the old man smiled a sad smile. Shiela, feeling ashamed of her poverty, silently received the bag with nothing but a sniff. Her words of thank you were stuck on her throat. Out of sheer happiness, she hugged the old man and helped him cross the street.

“Thank you lolo. I will never lose this bag, and I will take care of it as much as I can,” she muttered the words, when she finally calmed down. “It is nothing child. Just pray to the Lord, keep your faith and dreams close to your heart, and never give up on your education. That’s the only treasure that will never be taken from you,” the old man patted her head lightly as they made their way through the busy streets.

Suppression

            

             The world could go on better off without this word: Suppression. The world seems to deal with this issue since forever. People have to contend with the meager lifestyle that suppression offers them. It’s such a pitiful state to see so much innovation, and yet, the world still remains with a caveman’s mentality: their baser and wilder instinct still provokes them to win the race in ways that would step on other people’s dignity. Sad? Disgusting? Unbelievable? Yes, but simply open your eyes to reality, and you will see the real world.

Everyone has a thing or two to say to someone. At some point in a relationship, one party would snap. That’s where suppression begins- with a little burst of emotion. Emotion will fuel the negativity of a person, and would eventually lead to suppression. Hidden feelings, unheard voices, unacknowledged efforts, unchanged habits-all of these contribute to the growing suppression within society. For those who’ve never known peace all their lives- like the people in warring countries or average children unnoticed by society- suppression becomes the trigger and the clutch that they hold on to for survival. They live their daily doctrines with the thought of suppression hanging over their heads. Although, one may not think of being suppressed consciously, one’s actions and expressions are still obviously under the confines of suppression.

Despite a person’s attempts to enjoy life, the threat of being kicked to the dirt lingers like a pungent smell. Young children could never voice their longing for attention, teens could never voice their need for acknowledgement, adults could never voice their cry for change. All of these hidden underneath layers of routines, work, parties and all other things that a person does to erase the word suppression written on their skins. But it’s still there. When alone and thinking, one would realize the unbecoming of their dreams, all because of suppressed emotions and dignity.

We couldn’t help everybody else, but we could start with a simple, happy conversation. Words that could encourage and heal instead of probing ones that could instigate anxiety are enough to ease the restrains. Accepting and understanding one another without giving in to emotional barriers can gradually move mountains. Don’t be afraid to make friends, and don’t ever suppress a smile.

My next post will be a storytelling piece I am writing for a competition. I hope it will be good enough to win our college an award. God Bless us all.