That night part 3
I was left dumbstrucked that whole night. I ended up making all the possible scenarios what Elliot did and where he currently was.
"Elliot, did it," I spoke to myself as tears ran down my face.
The afternoon came and I never heard anything from Elliot. He did not even show himself up to our place. I texted him in hope he went home the morning his mother called. But I did not receive any reply. Days came passing and I was getting more and more worried. I was in a cycle of overthinking spree of what had become of Elliot; I could only speculate all possibilities.
I was sitting in the same bench that we first talked, forty years later. I always sit here. It has served as an extension of my home. It is where I once felt home, and learned to be somebody's home. -Elliot have made life somewhere else. Away from the things that shackled him.
"If I could do something I so much wanted, I want to run. Run so fast and long... I will not stop even if my legs will numb... hurt... give in. I will run," He said between one of those silences we had while we were looking at each other's eyes, holding hands --in this very bench.
I had an idea that Elliot was broken as I was. Just differently. He was craving for something. A thirst for his wholeness I can never quench --no one can but himself. And I knew. I always did. We both -wanted to run; him for the identity he has not yet found, and me from the ghost that haunted me. "I was raped," the words I suddenly blurted out one same night on the bench. He was silent for a moment.
"I know. I have an idea," he caressed my forearm. It calmed the building storm inside me. "The bruises and hickeys you try to hide tell me so," he said seriously staring at me.
I always liked to think that we both understand each other. Like we knew things we thought the other did not think of. We communicated in a manner so unfashionably distant from the normalcy of mere human language. We touched without touching, feel without doing anything. I knew we both were complicated, but strangely we were entwined.
Elliot may have traveled ways far away from me, but his smiles is etched forever in my mind, his laughters in my heart. My heart continues to howl for the love and understanding he gave me. It wants the home he alone could make it feel
"Hey, Mr. John. I will not bother to ask why you are here. But it is already late at night... it is also quite chilly..." Eddie, the one who sells night snacks, said. He knew me.
"I hope he comes back real soon," he said sitting next to me. "I am hoping he will... I will keep hoping that he will, Ed."
I grasped tightly on my chest the letter Elliot gave me that night. The letter that contained the promise he made to me. The promise we sealed with a kiss.
"I wish I could relive that night forever," I hopelessly spoken out as I stared into the st arless night sky.
The end...
That Night part 2
"I wish you could see them in my eyes so I do not c need to shudder and stumble trying to find the right words," I thought. "Yeah, I always know that," I uttered, instead.
I do not know why what kept me from not saying a thing to him about my dreams at night and the W ghost that constantly appeared everywhere I were, w otherwise in his touch.
We continued walking in silence while he was ce holding my arm. It was one of the gestures I found so u badly sweet from him. It might seem like nothing to some but to me, it felt like he was holding me and my w world. Like he was assuring me that no matter what sc would happen, I was and will always be safe in his is touch. I doubted he knew that. I doubted he knew Is how powerful his touch affected me. I wanted to tell sa him that. But I did not. I did not have my way with ro words, I knew so little of what and how to make sense wo of them. Needless to say, that night was subtle and beyond perfect. I always relive that very moment we no had in my head.
I was laying down on my bed trying to fall asleep ins that night but my thoughts were so loud. One of the things that I was thinking was him -**Elliot**. I was thinking of how I met him, how the both of us started off.
It was one of the many nights I had at the park near my school. I was sitting in a bench all by myself --as I could still remember.
"Angels come down from the heavens just to help us on our way. Come to teach us, then they leave us. Then they find some other soul to save," I heard somebody softly sang, though hardly audible, I could still make up the words. Maybe I was too absorbed with my own mental processes that I never noticed someone playing a guitar, whilst softly singing my favorite song, beside me. I was ashamed when he caught me looking intently to his face. I was trying to recall if I ever did I saw him on the campus, but failed because I never had an encounter with him, least to say saw him.
"Hi," he smiled saying --and I never had somebody smiled to me so much as sincere as he did. That night, I made my first ever long conversation with somebody. To a complete stranger who I just met for the first time --and just because he sang my favorite song, I submitted easily. A bit of a connection we established seconds after hearing he sang. I was a bit ashamed for myself for talking, though I never regretted.
There was something so homely with how Elliot spoke and act, his presence always calmed me.
There was something in him that made me feel understood. Maybe it has something to do with how he said things like he knows well what he was saying, understood somehow that I was not very vocal that he chose to be the talker. Or maybe it has something to do with silent intervals between us with time to be aware of each other's nuances. Or maybe we are connected in some way, maybe in our past lives.
That single night stretched to gradual passing of nights that we spent together on the park, on the some bench we first met and talked. It unconsciously and consensually became our spot.
I was in a status of reminiscence when it was abruptly disrupted by a phone call. I wondered who would call me at 17 minutes past two in the morning. Who would call me when I was the least, of all people, known. I could barely count the people know or who knows me with my fingers in one hand. What even got me confused was that the number was unregistered.
My confusion faded off my little soggy consciousness when unregistered caller was.
"Hello? I am very sorry to call this late but I was wondering if Elliot is with you right now she asked sounding with so much worrisome in her voice. "This is his mom if you are thinking how I got your number, I saw it on Elliot's phone. It is the only contact he has soved, so I tried to call you. He left his phone in his room when I checked him there..." she added like she was confused.
"Good moming, ma'am. Elliot is not with me right now," the only words managed to voice out since I was totally panicking inside Elliot was never outside this late. He was always, the one to sleep early.
"That boy never leaves his phone. Oh, that boy sure knows how to get me worried," she said before hanging up.
To be continued...
That night
I could hear my own heartbeat thumping inside my chest along with my surging thoughts as I ran quickly. My body was slowly numb, my lungs unstably heaved to the quick, shallow intake of air.
My thoughts were tangled on the same loop of an unforgettable memory that continued to haunt me. It left me lost, stucked puzzled in a crossroad; and I did not know which path to take. I did not have the slightest idea where I was.
The last and only memory I could vividly make out was that night. I still remembered his black shirt, his reaching arms, and his faint voice. I could even feel his body above mine as he thrust his hips to and fro. His scent still lingered at the back of mind, along with the hoarse sounds of his grunts and moans while he savored pleasure.
It was that night that I was recalling. That last night was the one that set me off to an endless journey.
"Did you hear what I just say?
"Hey, are you with me?"
I was pulled back from my internal reverie, the conundrum that huddled me from the reality, when Elliot held my hand close to his chest. He was curiously assessing me. So, I smiled and tightly grasped his hand.
"Sorry, what were you saying?"
I thought he will be mad but he just smirked and said,
"I said, I do not know why would the universe gave somebody like you to me. You are so precious to be with somebody as broken and tarnished a creature like me. I can never be more thankful having you."
His words always melted me, if not touched my sound. He is the sweetest creature, and I cannot imagine myself being with anybody but him.
"I know you can be secretive of your thoughts sometimes. I hope sooner you would find the courage to share the things that you are not ready enough to tell me. You know how much I am emotionally smitten to you, right?" he said staring intently into my eyes.
"I wish you could see them in my eyes so I do not need to shudder and stumble trying to find the right words," I thought. "Yeah, I always know that." I uttered, instead.
I do not know why what kept me from not staying a thing in him about my dreams at night and the ghost that constantly appeared everywhere I were, otherwise in his touch.
**To be continued...**
You are always there for me
You hear my pain when
everyone else goes deaf
You always put smile on my face
When I think I can't
You listen to my secrets
And make them yours.
You give me hug when
I can't find my voice.
You wipe away my tears that
That the world make me weep.
You are my sunshine
In a gloomy day.
You mean everything to me
That you'll ever know
You are my best friend.
You are my guardian angel.
You are the best person I could have.
You are my Mom!
**Happy Mother's Day** 🌹
World of Fantasy
Whenever I'm depressed and gloomy
I'll sit down under a big yellow tree,
And there, golden birds will sing to me
They'll make me forget life's melancholy
Whenever I want to shout and cry
I'll climb a mountain very high.
Three I'll stay there from morn till night
I'll try to be calm with all my might.
When there's a thing that's bothering me
I'll enter a colorful cave then I'll be free.
Free from life's sorrows and miseries
In a cave really full of mysteries.
Nothing is impossible in my lovely world,
It was really blessed by our dear Lord.
Sadness has ni space in me
When I'm in my world of fantasy.
See with your Heart
One of the fascinating things about the English language is that common words can be used with other words to mean something completely different. These special phrases are called idiomatic expressions or idioms.
You probably use these idioms everyday. Probably you have told someone that you made something from scratch. The expression from scratch is an idiomatic expression which means beginning from nothing or beginning without an advantage.
In My most unforgettable Character, what does the father mean when he say An artist must see with his heart? Does he mean that the heart is equipped with faculties for seeing? Of course, not. The heart is commonly believed to be the center of humane feelings like love and sympathy. Therefore, to see with the heart simply means to view or think of something with love. The father in My most unforgettable Character means that an artist loves the things that he sees and that is why he or she can find beauty in them.
Many expressions have the word heart in them. One example is have a heart. Can you think of others?
Southbound on the Superhighway
A tourist flew in from faraway Mars,
Parked way up in Earth's thin air
And sighting down with a laserscope.
Reported these data with exact care.
The creatures of this world as big as ours
Are made of metal plate and glass.
Through crystal parts I see their guts
From out their backs they shoot out gas.
Flair feet are round and roll on tapes.
Long measuring tapes - dark with white
Lines marked with paint or shining balls
These creatures possess both power and might.
Each has four eyes; two in the back
Are red. But now and then appears.
A five-eyed one, with red eye burning
On the top of his head. And all go slow
And let him rush, his red up learning.
Columns of them glide down the tapes;
Others take the opposite lanes
Those shapes within-shadowy soft-
Are they the guts?
Are they the brains?
PS: To my resting coffee face 3
Those happened nearly three months ago. And now, here I am again in this coffee shop. Yes I waited until today, but now I'll wait more. I know that this day, I had prepared myself immensely for it. I paid my bill, bade Travis goodbye and he smiled at me. I made my way into my car, with my bouquet of rose in hand, dodging all the curious stares.
For moment I hesitated to turn the key of my car, I knew that there was no turning back now. Cold beads of sweat were again dripping from my forehead as I finally reached for the key and revved the car. I glanced at the passenger seat while a pile of books were scattered. Books Erin had once read, and I had read myself, in a futile effort to impress her. The drive seemed to take forever, and I felt that the closer I get to her, the more I felt my heart pound against my chest. I had never been nervous in my entire life!
I was finally here. This is really it. I got out of the car and still clutched the flowers. I heard the sound of dry leaves crackle underneath my feet as I took every step. I didn't know if I was ecstatic or just plain nervous, but I was just glad that I could finally say a few words to her after agonizing months of silence. I took one deep breath and gathered my thoughts, I could feel the sweat on my palms a I rubbed them together.
"Hi." I told her, quivering.
And again there was silence. But it was an unusual silence, because now I could hear the birds sing and rustling of the trees. The only thing silent now was my heart that felt like it just dropped.
"Hi. I'm Clint." I repeated, louder this time.
It was then I realized how much time I had wasted by not talking to her in the past. Everything now was silent. No more rustling, no more chirping and most especially no more beating of my heart. For all I know, it must have already stopped.
There, at the foot of her grave, I laid down the roses I had carefully picked out for her. Maybe if I had given her the flowers a bit earlier, she would have felt like one of the heroines, in her romance novels.
Yeah, maybe. I felt warm tears streaming down my cheeks, as I talked to her about Paulo Coelho, the coffee shop and how much I adored her. I want to tell her anything and everything that I could think about.
This was my chance of a lifetime, because now, tomorrow would be far too late.
PS: To my Resting Coffee Face 2
"Her name is Erin."
Suddenly I was pulled out from my momentary trance as the waiter out down my streaming cup of coffee and winked at me
"What are you talking about, dude?" I abruptly replied, putting together my best I-don't -know-what-you're-talking-about look.
"Oh come on! You were ogling the girl for crying out loud. She is pretty, I'd go talk to her if it wasn't against company policy."
Erin. That was pretty name.
"Well does she come around often?"
The waiter scratched his head.
"Yeah. Almost everyday for a week now."
I thought for a while and looked at her. How I wished that I could just muster up the guts to sit beside her, act casual and start up conversation, maybe, even but her a cup of coffee.
My clothes were still soaked and now clung to bare my skin. But none of that mattered anymore, even the constant cajoling of the extremely loud group of students didn't bother me at all. Erin. I repeated myself as I took a sip from my cup and felt the coffee warm me.
I found myself returning to the coffee shop the day after that. I had thought that maybe she was not there anymore, but my heart leapt when I found her there still. She was still in the same corner, clad in a green dress holding up another book. I was beside myself with unexplainable joy.
I had countless times tried to think up of conversation starters; from "Hey, I am such a fan of Paulo Coelho." to the simpler "Hey, is this seat taken?" cliche. But none of them seemed to fit, and none of them felt quite right at that moment. I will never know why I passed up the chance to talk to her that day, but what I do know is that I found myself over and over that I'd talk to her and conjuring up excuses not yo afterwards.
I think basically ordered everything there was on the menu, from cheap brews to the pricier "pani is" just so I could stay there, look at her, and maybe finally muster up enough courage to even just say a simple "Hi!" This kept up for two months and the waiter whose name is Travis was always there to see me in my failed trials and pick at my self-esteem.
I also started to think that Erin was getting freaked that I was there staring at her and pretending to be busy with whatever, when the truth is that I wasted all my time picturing out how we would go about with our conversation. But one day, it happened, She didn't return.
"Did I scare her? Did she finally notice that I was there in every freaking day, staring at her? Did she that I was some ranging stalker who would jump at any chance to corner her in a dark alley? Or maybe it was because she had known that I secretly kept track of all the bloke she read in the coffee shop, from the uber thin ones to the ones resembled almanacs? Oh my god, was she going to sue me for all those things?!"
At first I convinced myself that maybe she was busy now, that one day she will return. But I waited for her still, and I saw not even a shadow of her. Although she stopped coming over to the coffee shop, I still waited for her every single day. I started to hate myself for not talking to her when I had all the chances to. I promised myself the moment she returns, I wouldn't put off 'till tomorrow that chance to talk to her.
I may freak her out if I told her that I knew all the novels she read by heart now. Or maybe she's make a beeline for the exit I'd told her that I watched her here everyday and had studied her facial expressions and I found it cute how she sometimes crinkles her nose when she read something she doesn't like. Maybe she'd even laugh at my face when I told her that I loved her; when the only things I knew about her novels and her first name. But I didn't care anymore if she would freak out, run or even laugh at me. I just needed to talk to her because everyday I pass up the chance to talk to her feels like torture.
To be continued...
PS : To my resting coffee face
I cannot believe that here I am, sitting in a coffee shop armed with a bouquet of fresh roses. I know I look silly. And that I conclude not from merely my own intuition, but from the countless number of stares that random passerby's have been throwing my way.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee beans wafted in the air, but it proved no comfort to me as I felt cold beads of sweat forming on my forehead. This was it. I told myself. This was the day I had prepared myself for. I took a sip from my already tepid cup of coffee. It had been sitting there for a quite a while now but I had just stared at it. As if oblivious to the fact that coffee was intended to be hot in tasted better if I had drank it earlier on. One sip was all it took to bring back all the memories I had created in the four walls, of thus quaint little coffee shop across my pad. I remember that this was the same kind of coffee (tall Espresso Americano), and this was the same table (a two-seater with a small table at the far right of the room) on that day that I had first laid my eyes on her.
It was raining hard that day, roughly six months ago. I was walking home from the office when the weather took a turn for the worse. I had tuned in to the weather report the night before the neglected warning depression in the area, but I neglected the warning, firmly believing that weather reports were wrong seventy-percent of the time, anyway. Yeah, maybe on the other days, and that day was definitely not part of that seventy-percent. I just fucked-up the day at work, and now here I am, soaking wet to my underwear! I had no choice but to run for cover at this coffee shop since it was the nearest place I could run to a the moment lest I brave the rain that poured like crazy. The warmed interior of the coffee shop and the familiar smell of brewing coffee was a welcoming invitation.
I ordered tall cup of Espresso American. And gave a hundred peso bill and took my seat here, in this same table. I looked around to see if there were any familiar faces that could possibly talk to and lament about the day's mishaps; maybe even a bum a cigarette because mine were obviously soaked. There weren't a lot of people there, and none of them were the least bit familiar to me. Crammed in the center room occupying the longest table, were the bunch of five students obviously cramming for their exams. I could see that they had only ordered one soda, maybe only to have the right sit in the coffee shop and stuff whatever knowledge they could in their brains at the time. They were a rowdy bunch and their antics filled the entire room, even competing with the sound of rain pouring on the roof. I started to feel annoyed, I had the shortest temper that day, I could have went home if it wasn't for a stupid rain. But it was then I saw her. Sitting just two tables from the group of students sat the woman who practically changed my life. I must have stared at her for the longest time, but in that moment I didn't hear the rain, I didn't noticed the frantic noise of exam-crazed students. I only noticed her. She was beautiful. She had the eyes of Hazel, a bit petite, and had a short, dark pixie cut hair. She crossed her legs and occasionally tapped on the floor with her left foot as she flipped through the pages of the novel she was so engrossed in. I squinted to see the title of the book she held in her hand, Veronica Decides to Die was written on the cover of the blue paperback novel. I had read that book myself, I had read almost book of Paulo Coelho to be exact and thought that It would make an interesting conversation starter. We could talk about anything from the Alchemist to the Valkyries.
"Her name is Erin"
Suddenly I was pulled out from my momentary trance as the waiter put down my streaming cup of coffee and winked at me.
To be continued....
Children learn what they love
**If children live with,**
**Criticism they learn to condemn.**
**If children live with,**
**Hostility they learn to fight.**
**If children live with,**
**Ridicule they learn to be shy.**
**If children live with,**
**Shame they learn to feel guilty.**
**If children live with,**
**Tolerance they learn to be patience.**
**If children live with,**
**Encouragement they learn confidence.**
**If children live with,**
**Praise they learn to appreciate.**
**If children live with,**
**Fairness they learn justice.**
**If children live with,**
**Security they learn to have faith.**
**If children live with,**
**Approval they learn to like themselves.**
**If children live with,**
**Acceptance and friendship they learn to**
**find love in the world**.
I wonder why?
I wonder why there is so much
That I can see and I can touch
But cannot ever understand
I catch a raindrop in my hand.
I know it came drown from the sky.
It disappears. I wonder why?
I sit upon the sea shore sand,
Where I am sitting it is land.
My toes are dipping in the sea,
And yet the sea won't come to me.
There seems to be magic line,
I can't see it, it is so fine.
And yet the ocean seems to know,
I can't come farther than my toe.
Another thing I do not know,
Is where the ends of rainbows go.
I always see the middle part
Why can't I be there at the start.
To see it roll across the sky,
I wonder why?
I wonder why?
How Tiktok is changing the World?
The world is evolving and change is definitely we need to adapt. **Tiktok is now the most used app in the world,** with exception of those countries that banned it. This social media platform was launched in 2016 in China, where it was called Douyin".
In 2017, it went internationally known as "Tiktok" that most of smartphone users utilise for entertainment or on making contents. Furthermore, the name, apparently, is a play on tick-tick an onomatopoeia for the sound of the clock and a tern for countdowns and minute by minute action.
The generation Z, millenials, and boomers find the app convenient because of its non-age discriminatory feature. Tiktok has a minimum user age of 13 years old. In Ireland, the digital age of consent has been set at 16 years old. Otherwise children under the required age, should be consented by their parent or guardian
The existence and formulation of term, "Tiktoker" or "Tiktokerist" was coined after those people who are on great fondness of utilising the app. Tiktok is a personalized video feed based on what viewer watches, likes, and shares. It offers real, interesting, and fun videos that will make one's day more exciting. One can watch all varieties of videos ranging from:
Comedy
Gaming
DIY ideas
Food
Sports
Memes
Pets
To oddly satisfying contents
And ASMR
Freedom of speech and expression, among others, are given importance in the social medium. And we cannot deny that this is a fun app that will allow us to create and share videos with our friends, family, special someone or even for ourselves in expressing what we feel.
This app can be really creative way, fun way for us to express ourselves and create own social content even at home, work and wherever.
The credibility of this app highlights a message that informs us that having the best life comes only from being contented with what one have and living a life in the present. It is surreal but taunting to think that we can be happy but not happier. Needless to say, we must strive in considering what is in front of us instead of thinking the value of the moment others are experiencing. It is a thought to that one needs to remember.
***"The sun and the moon shines when it is their time".***
I love myself
I love myself the way I am,
There's nothing I need to change.
I've always been the perfect me,
There's nothing to rearrange.
I'm beautiful and capable of being the best me I can.
I love my self just the way I am.
I love you just the way you are.
There's nothing you need to do.
When I feel the love inside myself,
It's easy to love you.
Behind your fears, your rage and tears
I see your shining star
And I love you just the way you are.
I love the world the way it is,
As I can clearly see
That all the things I judge are done
By people just like me.
So 'till the birth of peace on earth
That only love can bring.
I'll help it grow by loving me within.
I love myself the way I am
And still want to grow.the change outside can only come
When deep inside I know
I'm beautiful and capable
Of being the best me I can.
And I love myself just the way I am,
I love myself just the way I am.
Entreaties
The present year has done so many,
Until now the virus is in our country.
It gets in to people unforseeably,
Affects various nations and the humanity.
People cry and scream for aid,
But why do you think their voices fade?
The cases rise and people die,
They can't resist and some say "goodbye".
How can we go back to our normal lives?
For the lethal foe is worse than knives.
We need money to survive and food to eat.
People are hovering between life and death.
We need to stop the argument and dispute,
For only love will save our compatriot.
We don't need your rants and insubordination,
Assist the government with their foremost action.
What is really happening right now?
We want to be healed, we don't know how.
Thank you, front liners for doing your best,
But take care yourself and have some rest.
My dear countrymen, we need to work jointly
For our enemy can't be seen and it is so nasty.
We need to be strong until it's totally gone.
Let us all collaborate and unite as one.
Keep going
Life is but an ocean of demoralising waves, wild tides and strong current. They may seem compellingly appalling at times, frightening at most. They may crush and destabilise one's stance, one may feel demotivated and down casted but it should not be the reasons to cease trying and move forward.
The vastness of life does not present any secret formula as to how to face all the oddities it brings. It hold all those unbeknown from our knowledge. It flows and ebb in various degrees. It if full of uncertainties.
Yet, one thing remains most certain. All the complexities life has to give are nothing but hurdles to go over with.
They are what spice up a stagnant existence, they are the benchmarks of personal growth.
Man has voyaged life in pursuit of a higher purpose. And as we sail our ship. May we find the reason to keep going. Anchor vision and enliven the prime reason why we started to aspire. No biggest wave can ever crush a soul that thrive and perserveres.
***Amidst every wave, tide and current. Keep going!***
Dance with my Demon
I danced with my demons
Out of a lost song
We crafted every step
Deep, deeper and slow.
I drew nearer
I kissed his lips
A foolish thought
That our hearts met.
It wasn't a moment or a memort
Just a fragment of an image
I tied with threads,
'Till I couldn't even breathe.
A hollow creature came to life
Wandered and eventually got lost
Among the wilderness of your lies.
No You
Maybe in another life
The vibrations of all manifestations
Would cause movement
And allow us to respond
And maybe there you'd forget
How to hurt and make bruises
But to touch me
As an open curtain of peace.
And maybe you'd be more careful
With words that damage
My soul, and would keep
Me still... In silence
And maybe I wouldn't have to run
And discover another activity
Just to forget that I'd miss you
'cause I couldn't able to heal
So maybe there was another life
That I used wishing for;
' cause if there was,
There's be no **YOU**.
Maybe this is the other life.
White crayon
In the tranquil times of life,
The farthest reach of my mind,
A tone of thoughts and ideas appear unbidden.
A motionless bliss of disenchanted scenes
Made me stop all of a sudden
Wondering of what place
And what purpose in life might have I been.
Am I a white crayon?
Unorthodox, unknown to many.
People neglected me,
Useless if may see,
But I have my own purpose:
Make things better, livelier, and brighter;
That a brave a true artist can see.
I am a piece of Art.
I am valuable, superseding other colors.
I show authority like no one else could.
I am my own masterpiece that this world
Needs to be seen.
Cycling is Trending
The culture of cycling had its peak in 2016, until the Covid19 pandemic took the scene. Every outdoor activities were affected and abruptly halted as for the order of the government, for health precaution.
People came up with different indoor activities to stay sane out of doldrums during the whole Enhance Community Quarantine (ECQ) period. When the quarantine period was lifted, whilst with the strict health and social being precautions being enforced, people started making necessary changes on their lifestyle. People went out for short walk, jogs, and others rode their bikes. It was then that cycling was enliven.
People turned into cycling, even some motorcycle enthusiast shifted their interests into it too. Every morning there will be always at least several cyclist peddling around the city. There are some young and adult cyclist organising a group for a long ride biking activity. The once motorcycle-filled sidewalks were replaced by bicycles.
This tough circumstances we are in taught us the importance of maintaining our physical and mental health into a stable state. The revival of cycling played a significant role in helping alleviate the situation as it makes the person function while going into places to unwind, wandering through series of tours for quenching the doldrums that are thirsty for human experience.
***Cycling is an active agent that contributes in stabilising the humanistic state of continuous functioning.*** As the journey of cycling negates the world from being totally shackled by the unseen enemy, may biking be a mode to empower humanity.
VLOGGING: The Artistic Form of Creating Videos
**"Welcome back to my channel!".**
We often hear that from people we now called as "vloggers". Those are content creators which provide us a lot of ideas and usually can be viewed on YouTube, where most people believed a place to earn good money for a living.
**Vlog stand for "video blog", or video log.** This refers to a type of blog where most or all of the content is in a video format. Vlog posts consist of creating a video or yourself or something. It can be a product review, an informative content, or a personal narrative covering a certain experience.
In our country, there has been a lot of famous vloggers who inspire people through their contents. It is one of the factors why some chose this platform as a career in life.
In vlogging, people use cameras to capture or record their content for the moment. Filming videos for contents seem to be fun but it is beyond the knowledge of viewers that there are much complex work happening behind the camera.
What to feature?
How to market contents
Is the content be hit to the viewers?
These are some of the few factors that are critical for a successful Vlog. It is not beyond the thinking capacity of everybody that not all vloggers are successful in their path to vlogging. Some are struggling to increase their subscribers to get monetize, some could not market their videos before the public audience.
Preparing before becoming a vlogger can really help one in becoming a successful YouTube. **One best tip is to watch a vlogger, and be keen of the steps they are talking. It is also significant to mix and match ideas before starting to Vlog.**
As Vlogging became one of the best paying jobs. Aside from the enjoyment one can get from being part of the platform, it can be a way towards achieving what caters personal creativity in the form of video creation.
This form of art will always be remembered because it is not just spending a night talking to a camera, uploading and having a million subscribers. It is but **how one's unique contents spark creativity, artistry and innovation, how one can connect to people and showing them the authenticity and beauty in being passionate.**
Uncountable casualties
The world we live today
Totally different from the word we had yesterday
We've gone through series of triumphs
Normally, we had trials in return
Unseen enemy is what we are facing
It has changed our way of living
Something that is tiny
Something that gives death and worry
A lot of people died
You and I cannot deny
The whole world suffered
Everything has altered
As we diminish the casualties
As we rebuild our country
Let us put our efforts collectively
And sooner have the calming peace individually.
Cloud Castle
I always believe in the power of a dream,
Studied so hard with a goal to brim.
Never hesitant; never puzzled,
But in the end, my heart is crumpled.
Set a goal ans hit the mark,
Fight so hard even though it's dark.
I constantly ask myself,
"Do I need to quit or should I ask for help?"
I truly admire the fire burning within me,
But lowliness didn't give me a chance to see.
A dream that remained a dream,
Where fortunate people can't feel the dim.
Effort wasted truly it is,
Got another track and content with this.
Pursued a path which is meant for me,
I'm still thankful and always will be.
My plans has changed but it is okay,
Accepted the fact and come what may.
It is truly yo break a puzzle,
Most especially if it is your cloud castle.
Shade
The kindliest thing God ever made,
His hand of very healing laid
Upon a fevered world, is shade.
Hid glorious company of trees
Throw ou their mantles, and on the se
The dust-stained wanderer finds ease.
Green temples, closed against the beat
Of noontide's blinding glare and heat,
Open to any pilgrim's feet.
The white road blister in the sun,
Now, half the weary journey done,
Enter the rest, O weary one!
And feel the dew of dawn still wet
Beneath thy feet, and so forget
The burning highway' s ache and fret.
This is God's hospitality,
And who so rests beneath a tree
Hath cause to thank Him gratefully.
What shall I be?
Growing up
I was thinking what shall I be?
A captain on a ship at sea?
But it seems lonely
to be far from your love ones.
A barber who cuts hair all day?
It seems fun styling hair.
A pianist with sweet tunes to play?
Making harmonious sounds
A gardener who digs and rakesp
Where plants could grow.
A Baker who bakes breads and cakes
It could satisfy your sweet tooth.
A grocer who has food to sell?
It could help the community.
A doctor who makes children well?
Our front liners.
But when I grow up
I wanted to be
A mother with a girl like me.
Clouds
Clouds are like silver lambs
On low green hills.
Feeding on blue meadows
Watered by rills.
Clouds are like snowy dawn
Playing with winds
Clouds are small, willful clues
With playful minds.
Clouds are huge butterflies
Radiant with rays
Clouds are beasts of the wilds
On stormy days
Clouds are the sky giany
Their tears are rain.
Dropping on leafy plants
Soaking living and non living things
Down on the plain.
Strangers
What if roses were blue
What if violets were red
Will change the way you feel
Towards me?
Or the world you see?
I hate it when they fake care
Choke on smoke can't breathe
Last time I felt love
Was first grade
On my mother's front seat
Everybody wants to fight with me
Everybody always hated me
Even strangers try to cover it
Always been used to it
In fact I am numb to it.
Changed myself to feel accepted
Two faced stand corrected
Even though I never made it
I am a winner though
In my own way.
Why I always doubt myself?
Why do I have to stress myself?
Why do I always have to find the bad?
In all the good that I have always had
Maybe life is not for all of us
Maybe one day they will refer to us
Maybe then I will be the woman
That I have always wished to be
No strings attached.
Self respect
What I never asked for,
You couldn't give me
What I asked for,
I could never accept
Love bestowed upon asking
Is without meaning,
Proximity, when begged
For loses its meaning
Life, if bestowed upon by someone,
Is not mine then
Moments if bestowed,
Are nothing but a charade
Wishes stand belied,
If servilely begged
Hopes are dishonored, I asked for,
If I get you by asking, then it is better otherwise
Dying seems like a better recourse, than begging.
Life of a teacher
Everybody wants to be a teacher. Every beggar wants to make a gift of million dollars. Just as these beggars are ridiculous so are these teachers.
Teachers are nation builders. A teacher has to perform a very pious duty. He has to lead a very virtuous life. A light mistake on his part may cause a perfect ruin of the students he teaches. He is expected to abandon all evils. He is supposed to be an embodiments of virtues. A true teacher emits the fragrance of knowledge all around him. He is the source of light and proper guidance.
A Teacher rises early in the morning and makes his preparations for going to the school. A good teacher prepared his lessons for the day. He reaches the school in time. He tries to maintain discipline at every step. All the students stand up when the teacher enters in the class. It is just to show respect to the teacher and also to make themselves alert for teaching the lesson.
A teacher teaches the students with love and care. He never minds the trouble. Sometimes he has to because tact is more important than talent for success in life.
And a teacher feels great of accomplishment whenever they see their students achieve their dreams and become a good person in the society. That's how teacher as a profession is such noble.
My Sunday
Everytime I close my eyes,
Sunday afternoon comes to mind.
Sometimes when I close my eyes,
there is only white noises.
The Sunday in my head is always sunny;
rarely it rains.
When it rains on Sunday,
I am reminded of school uniform;
sweaty and sticky,
but it is still Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I can smell Sunday.
The smell of Sunday in my head—
consists of jasmine, pandan, and milk.
The Sunday in my head rarely rains.
When it rains, it smells like acid and soil.
The sunny side of my Sunday is not always bright—
and my wet Sunday is not always gloomy.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself tracing Sunday.
I run my fingers through the odds of—
possibilities and the ambience of the present.
You see, I cannot imagine anyone but myself—
in my Sunday.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see no one.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see silhoutte of myself.
Everytime I close my eyes,
I see myself leaving trails.
Everytime I close my eyes,
It was all in my head all along.
Blessed with the odds,
my Sunday goes by very slowly;
so slow sometimes I caught myself in turbulence.
From violent shower to the still lake,
I avoid meeting myself on the foreground.
If I ever crossed path in the middle,
I would be non-existent;
none of this would matter,
and there will never be my Sunday.
@Ching13