"My Lesson to You" by Valerie C

      When we are all very young we are taught to always impress a person with our manners. To make them feel respected constantly and always listen, never look distracted if a person is speaking, especially an elder! Always use formal language my parents constantly reminded me when I would forgot to say “Usted” , which is a way of establishing a formal relationship in the Spanish language. As I grew with manners embedded into my brain, my parents knew I would always be respectful to any person. So they unfortunately gave me a new lesson to learn, it was unfortunate for two reasons: 1. I had to listen to my parents 2. I learned this lesson sooner than I wanted to. My parents said to me, “Every person you meet will remember you one way or another, so always be the happy you, always be the positive you, always be the you you want people to remember when you are gone.” and since that moment I constantly wondered what they were trying to say. So I happily went about my life with my family, friends, and occasional strangers trying to always make them happy and laugh. It wasn’t until after summer 2017 that I realized being the happiest you and the best version of you is not only for people to remember you when you are gone, but it’s to remember the way you made others smile and glisten with happiness when they're no longer on this earth. See, the summer of 2017 my family of 20 plus and I went on a vacation to beautiful Cancun. Of course I was being the happiest version of myself because I had not seen half of my 20 plus family members in a while, it wasn’t until after this trip I would be entirely grateful to have gotten to be the best version of myself in front of some of the best people. It is inevitable to lose people in this world, as a matter of fact death is the moment in which people realize they have come full circle in life, death is the moment in which people ask themselves “Did I love this person enough?Did I ever disregard or disrespect something this person was saying? Was I the absolute best version of myself? Will they remember all the magical moments we all spent together? Did I truly make a difference in this person’s life?”. As I came home after an amazing family vacation I learned that two of the most vibrant men on that vacation had died no less than 24 hours of leaving our hotel. As hours and tears went by I began to remember moments in which life was great, moments in which I would see the two amazing uncles laughing at my smart remarks and resembling me to my father as they called me Valentina (a nickname I truly do hate and love). This is when I finally understood my parents lesson and it was really to make my mark in a person’s life. To make sure they knew they were dear to me, to make sure they knew I loved them, to make a statement in their life, and to be able to remember whenever it is necessary. After coming around to the lesson my parents had taught me I never had trouble remembering the great times I spent with with my family that summer. Of course one is angry when God or life, whatever you believe, takes people away for an unknown reason; but anger was no longer present in my life after this summer only memories. All that was left was the mark they had left in my life, the influence that was scattered in my life  because of them, the laughter given off and the images of happiness I was lucky enough to inflict in their lives as well. I was lucky enough to have them in my family and I am eternally grateful to have spent their last days with them. That being said, I am forever grateful that my parents taught me such a valuable lesson that reminds me to always try and put a smile on others faces because as subtle as a smile is the memory that comes with it is priceless. So, I pass this lesson on as a way of telling you to be the absolute best version of yourself while with others, as hard as things get the memories and the feeling of being apart of someone’s smile, someone’s laugh, and someone’s life is indescribable.

“The Words Unspoken” by Marilyn V

    Each day holds challenges. Some fight for their lives, imprisoned within their own world. It was years ago, I distinctly remember when the sadness of a child’s eyes could not escape. A precious, innocent boy filled with potential fought but could not overcome the barriers. His soft voice forever engraved in my memory.

“Hold my hand tonight.” so I did.

“When can I come home?” unanswered.

“Will I ever be okay?” no reply.

Never imagined that one day his lifeless hand will no longer intertwine with mine. The questions asked remained without answers. Life continued and his challenge had ended. Anger and sadness streamed down my face as I was not able to endure such pain,  nothing made sense, yet I did not ask why. I knew that the questions would be ignored as well.

These memories never spoken, I cling to. For comfort, for faith, they formed a story of which created my character. From the beginning of my understanding all I can recall was the aura of a cold hospital; with unforgiving floors that would grasp your ankles and try to weigh down those who dared walk in. These floors did not scare me, I was all too familiar with the weight. Walking in was not the issue, it was the door. This door was a separation of normality and the hell of not only an angelic boy, but of countless other children without a voice. It was a disease to say the least and it manifested into souls.

Growing up too fast was pushed to the sideline. Enjoying youth meant understand how life was going to play out no matter if it was fair or not. There I was at such a young age watching helplessly at the children in pain. Forcing myself to comprehend how their footsteps must feel. They must feel tortured. They do not deserve torture. Holding my tongue from sorrowful comments because we all know there would only be sympathetic shrugs to give instead of needed reassurance.

“Let’s watch a movie please? I’ll feel better if we do” I knew he would ask when I walked in. I slipped in the dvd to start a Disney marathon and there we laid in silence, without a word enjoying each other’s company while it lasted. Flashbacks like this are frequent, at times I tell myself it’s okay to remember them. Other times I restrain the memories because though sadness builds up, I know he ached. Calloused hands, peeled skin, thin strands of hair left behind we all knew would eventually fall due to radiation. The children there only had their mind to imagine a world beyond.

The night he reached heaven's gate was a dream. A literal dream as well, untold but appreciated nonetheless. I find myself in the hospital roaming as I’ve done millions of laps before and there he is. The precious boy awaits but for some odd reason it is completely quiet. There is no need for speaking so he waves to me. By his side, we smile and hug and my dream ends abruptly. My last memory with him.

Morning had arrived and the dream informed me that it was a day to keep in my heart. Lots of prayer contributed to the beginning of that day as well as the positivity I managed to have. The dream itself  was all I needed to go off of to give me strength for that day. I was getting ready for another day of freezing hell and somehow I sensed that it wouldn’t be so bad. But what I saw when entering I was not prepared for.

A room full of tears, an unresponsive monitor, and the sweet face of a boy with his eyes closed.

Words were unnecessary so everyone was quiet. The hardships faced in life were no comparison to the suffering of his battle. Their battle. The many children are not heard. The many do not have a hand to hold. The many are in silence fighting for an unfair world. Their strength is all what fill what words can not. It is the faith in hell which keep the children alive. They hold onto the pages of their stories hoping they’ll flip and not crumble. It is the words unspoken that are replaced with hope. Hope of escaping the barricades and go beyond, to paradise.

Mark Viveros

2000-2012

http://obits.dignitymemorial.com/dignity-memorial/obituary-print.aspx?n=Mark-Viveros&lc=2393&pid=157501207&mid=5095409

“How To Sing In Front Of An Audience” by Elizabeth R.

      The size of a crowd, whether small or large, watching your performance can make you very nervous. I have had much experience singing in front of people by myself or with a band and I want to help those who suffer from the same problems I did and still do from time to time. 

 

Step 1: Memorize your lyrics!

Knowing a song inside and out eliminates one of the fears that might race through your head before a performance. Start off small by memorizing every three lines and repeating them until it is stuck in your brain, then move on. Also, give yourself enough time before a show to memorize it because learning it in a day or a couple of hours can be incredibly stressful.

*Helpful tip: Even if you do forget a line during your performance, do not panic or drop the mic and run off stage. You can mumble along with the melody or simply repeat the same verse until you can remember the words. 

Step 2: Know what the song means and how you connect to it!

Dissect the song and draw meaning out of it so you know what you are singing about. Making a personal connection to a song will help make your performance more emotional and genuine. Interpreting the song will help you so you can sing it as if you are telling a story which will keep your audience entranced and captivated. 

Step 3: Practice in front of a mirror!

Watching how you move and what facial expressions you make allows you to fix any problems that you may not notice unless someone tells you. During a sad song, you should not be smiling and during a happy song, you should not be frowning. Unmatched expressions with a certain type of song can make your audience confused or uncomfortable. While practicing in front of a mirror, you should be aware of any distracting habits like constantly playing with your hair (which I am very guilty of) or with your clothes. The audience can read these habits as nerves or carelessness. Watching a singer that simply stands with his hand in his pocket makes him look like he does not want to be there or that he is bored. Movements and the expressions you make are an important part of performing because, even if you are singing in another language that hardly anyone knows, everyone will know what you intend to communicate. However, facial expressions are not about how beautiful you can look while singing because the most authentic performances are not about appearance but about how your emotions show through your face.

Step 4: Practice in front of your family and friends or sing at an open mic night!

In order to get yourself more comfortable with singing in front of people, you need to actually go out and do it. It is best to start off small and with people you trust. Have your parents sit down and watch you or you can even go to a coffee shop or other dining place that offers an open mic night. Even doing small shows like these can get you used to the feeling of performing in front of others and make you less nervous. 

Step 5: Take care of yourself!

Before any show you should always get a good night’s rest and drink plenty of water to prevent your throat from becoming dry. Maintaining a healthy regimen can eliminate the fear of being inhibited from singing by being too sick, stuffy, or dry. Drinking warm tea (that is not caffeinated) also helps because it soothes and hydrates your throat. Do not drink any cold drinks before a show because it causes your vocal chords to tense up. 

*Helpful tip: Even if you are sick (depending on how badly), you can still sing and sound good! In the days leading up to your performance avoid dairy, caffeine, and even almonds because it creates excess mucus and phlegm. Also, avoid eating late at night before a performance because it can cause acid reflux, which causes our stomach acids to flow back up to our throats, and makes singing painful and irritable. 

Step 6: Be warmed up!

Make sure you have warmed up by doing vocal exercises! You can find many warm-up videos on YouTube. Some beneficial warm-ups are lip trills, sirens, and massaging your jaw to release any built up tension.

Step 7: Take deep breaths!

It is the day of the show and you are extremely nervous. Before your call time, take deep breaths. This will calm you down and relax that rapid heartbeat.

Step 8: Do NOT fall victim to any of your fears!

The hardest part for me to get over was thinking about what people thought of me while I was singing. If someone had a stern face I thought that they didn’t like me or my voice and I would slowly coil into a quivering wreck. Telling myself that I will never see these people ever again made me stop caring about their reactions and made me stop dwelling on if I messed up. In most cases, it is true that you will never see those audience members ever again so you can take comfort in that and perform to the best of your ability.

      I used to care so much about what people thought of me but I have been singing for so long that people’s hate or mean comments do not even phase me anymore. You need to remember that confidence does not build overnight. I have been performing since I was ten and I feel like I just developed this mentality. For some, it might have come even faster but I accept myself and my weaknesses, strengths, and progress. If you do not, you can fall prey to someone else’s harsh words. Singing on stage or singing to a group of strangers takes a lot of courage and you worked hard to prepare and put yourself out there for everyone to spectate. If people hate you for it, do not give them an ounce of your attention. You are doing something you love and are passionate about. Believe in yourself and own your performance.

"The World’s 506th Coolest Dad" by Ma Kyla N

Ever since I was a kid, I always thought my dad was pretty cool. I mean, he isn’t the coolest person on this earth. He’s more like the 506th coolest dad. To me, he’s almost like a superhero that doesn’t have powers. He encouraged me to try a lot of things as a kid, such as play different types of instruments and play different types of sports. He always suggests to me, “Hey Kyla! You should try playing the piano!” or “I saw this little girl play soccer, do you wanna try it?” I always saw the hope in his eyes and the big smile he always had on his face whenever he asked. Of course, I would always agree to try it, but nothing really stuck. I never really understood why he made me go through all those things when in the end, I ended up not having any passion for the things he made me try. Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful that I had the opportunity to try all those things, but I just didn’t know why he was trying so hard to get me to do these activities.
            One day, he sat me down and started talking about his life, starting off with his childhood. Unlike mine, he didn’t have the things I had as a kid, like those Tickle-Me Elmo toys that I used once and never used again, or those small cars I would always lose the day after I bought them. Actually, he didn’t have anything. He lived in poverty with my grandparents and my uncle. He used to play with bottle caps from the beer bottles and used soda cans as soccer balls. He would spend his time after school playing with or bullying the other kids in his neighborhood. My grandma had a little fruit stand at a marketplace, whereas my grandpa worked at an electrical company. My grandparents worked hard to provide for their children and hope that their future was a lot better than theirs. My dad also never really mentioned how my uncle was, but all I know is that their relationship isn’t really great. They lived in a rundown apartment-like complex, but the apartment room was literally a room. That one room was where they slept, ate and cooked. I should also mention that the walls of this apartment were so thin, my dad said, “You can hear people cursing at each other and breaking things all the way from a room at the other side of the complex.”    
            My dad was one of those neighborhood bullies that threw rocks at kids’ heads and fought people just because he felt like it. He was basically those kids who didn’t really care about school, and he is what people would consider a “hooligan” or a “bad influence” to other kids. Despite those names people called him, he was actually a disciplined kid compared to others. At age seven, he was already fetching thirty to forty pounds water from a mile or two away and coming back with it. He hand-washed his family’s clothes, helped my grandma sell fruits at her market and just did the most he could do to help out his family.  Though his family wasn’t well off, they still put him and his brother in a private school due to public schools not being as good as private. He didn’t do very well at school but started getting more serious as high school came along. I mean, he wasn’t top in the top twenty or didn’t have the best grades, but he still managed to graduate but ended up going to a monastery to practice priesthood.
            He stayed at a monastery for 5 years, until they had a retreat to my mom’s hometown: Infanta, Quezon. Due to the circumstance of his future wife being in the same vicinity as him, you already know where this is going. When my dad first met my mom, he said, “She radiated like the sun and I knew I wanted to marry her when I first saw her.” My dad was always a hopeful guy, so he prayed to God, hoping my mom would be the one. Cheesy? I know, kind of cute though. After the Lord answered his prayers, he left the monastery to be with, as he says, “The one and only sunshine in my life that I will always love and cherish.” My mom moved to my dad’s city, where she studied to be a nurse at a university. My dad worked at a company that sold textbooks to colleges across the city as well as three other jobs. They already knew they were going to marry each other, so they saved up money to moved to America. With the jobs my dad was taking on and my mom working at a bank, everything was going as they planned. All of a sudden, my mom became pregnant with yours truly.
            I was born 5 months after my parents’ wedding. My dad described me as a crybaby who always preferred my mom over him. I would always cry whenever he held me and said, “That was the only time I was jealous of your mom.” He definitely put effort as a parent since the day I was born and it touches my heart that he did all of this to show his love to me. Even for my first birthday party, he invited everyone he knew in my mom’s hometown and his family to go. He cooked for hours the night before and made sure everything was perfect. He even made party favors for the kids and hired a photographer. I was too young to thank him, but I definitely would have if I knew how to talk.
            Remember when I said everything was going smoothly? Well, a couple months after my first birthday party, my parents moved to California without me. They wanted to build a foundation for me before I actually moved there with them. As a baby, if my mom wasn’t there, I would know, so I would cry every night looking for my mom for the next two months. Meanwhile, in America, my mom was still training to be a nurse, while my dad worked as a caregiver for a couple of years. My mom also worked with him to earn more money. Two years later, they sent me and my grandma to America and that’s when my dad started suggesting me to do this or doing that. At this point of the story, I knew why he was doing all of this.
            My dad didn’t have a lot of things growing up. He never got the opportunity to do things kids usually do. He didn’t have a house as nice as the one we currently live in or had money to buy the things he wanted. He basically sugarcoated all the things he told me and made it seem like it was okay, but for the 45 years he’s lived on this earth, it’s been hard for him. A smile is always plastered on his face whenever he’s with his family and it hits me hard that he went through a lot to make that smile possible. I realized that him pushing these activities was a way for him to prove that he did it; that he’s giving his child a life that he never had.

Right now, he’s back in the Philippines, building an apartment in a city where poverty is pretty high. He’s also planning to bring me there as well, so I can experience life the Philippines, minus the poverty part. He’s been going back and forth from the Philippines for the past 4 years and whenever he leaves, it feels empty. My mom and I get all sad, whereas my brother hasn’t realized how hard he’s working. He’s even sacrificing things up to this day and I think that’s pretty cool. Like I said, my dad’s like a superhero to me and I hope he knows I love him as much as he loves me.

"Worthless" by Kevin F

“You don’t really mean that do you?” He said, stung by the harsh remarks made by his
friend.

“Of course I do. You’re nothing, but a worthless piece of garbage! Do you really believe
that your life is ACTUALLY valuable. Please, don’t flatter yourself.”

The friend’s words cut deep into the man, tearing away at the very little self-esteem he
had left. He’s right, I am just a complete waste. Why do I even bother to try to convince myself that I’m not ...no... He’s wrong. 

“What? Nothing left to say? Psshh- That’s what I thought. Sit there and loathe at your patheticness-” 

“No! You’re wrong! Everything you say about me isn’t true. Dr. Quinn told me not to listen to you! She told me that my life is actually meaningful. That I was put here for a reason.” He desperately remembered what Dr. Quinn told him. 

“Remember the three things I told you to do during your episodes Mr. Freigner,” said Dr. Quinn.
“Yes I do, stay calm, think positive, and...-”
“And most importantly, breathe,” replied Dr. Quinn

Mr. Freigner sat down and began to take in slow breaths, inhaling through the nose and
exhaling through the mouth. Think positive! Think positive! However, with every single breath he took in he felt his lungs becoming tighter and tighter. It felt as if his chest was being crushed by an enormous amount of pressure. He felt that his chest was going to give out and collapse, yet he took in even larger breaths in hopes that it’ll somehow take away the weight. 

“Do you really believe what Dr. Quinn says is true! Please, all she cares about is getting paid just like the rest of us. She actually doesn’t care about you, she just sits there and listens to your whining because she knows that in the end she’ll be able to go home and get away from your complaints. Think positive my ass!” 

His words were like a boa constrictor, tightening around Mr. Freigner. He felt like a helpless animal caught in the clasp of their predator, facing the final moments of their life as he’s preyed upon.
The gun he thought to himself. No I shouldn’t! I was specifically told to ignore it no matter what!
Mr. Freigner slowly opened his eyes and began to relax his breathing. His eyes motioned to that forbidden tool, he just couldn’t resist it. He slowly got up and began motioning towards the weapon.
“Finally, you stopped breathing! To be completely honest you were just getting flat out annoying! Then again, when are you not? Wait? What are you doing with that gun-” 

“SHUT UP! FOR GOD’S SAKE SHUT UP! I’M SICK AND TIRED OF EVERYTHING YOU SAY TO ME!” 

The friend began to sweat profusely and his face became pale as the surrounding walls of the room. He stuttered, “N-Now wait a second! Why are you holding that?! T-They specifically told us to never grab that!” 

“I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU TELL ME! I’M NOT GOING TO JUST STAND HERE IDLE ANY LONGER! I WON’T LET YOU INSULT ME WITH YOUR BITING REMARKS ANYMORE! I’M DONE WITH IT! DONE!” 

Mr. Freigner then instinctively placed the gun at the side of his friend’s head, pressing deeply against his temple and rhythmically shoving the gun with every spitted word. His head began to throb with an immense pain, as if his head was being brutally crushed by his own skull and he felt the room begin to enclose on him. 

“Do you think pointing that gun at my head is going to scare me into respecting you?! Don’t flatter yourself. I want you to understand that I am the ONLY person that’ll ever show a glimpse of care for you! No one cares about you Freigner!” 

“SHUT UP OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL PULL THE TRIGGER! I’LL PULL THIS GOD DAMN TRIGGER RIGHT NOW,” exclaimed Mr. Freigner as his face burned red with searing tears endlessly streaming down his face. “Out of all people, why are you saying this to me? WHY YOU?!”
“How many times do I have to spell it out for you, you’re worthless!” “Don’t say that! You don’t mean it!”

“YES I DO! YOU’RE WORTHLESS! WORTHLESS! WORTHL-” “ SHUT UP!” 

A loud bang fills the empty noise of the room. Then, the sound of a gun and Mr. Freigner’s lone corpse thudding against the floor echoes throughout the testing room. 

Suddenly, the sound of an intercom buzzes through the room as a voice speaks through it saying, “Subject C-13 is now inoperative. Test is complete. Proceed cleanup.” Three strange men enter the room wearing perfectly clean, pearly white lab coats carrying a stretcher. Two of the men grab Mr. Freigner’s lone, dead body and place it upon the stretcher while the other cleans up the crimson stains. 

“Wow, the tests are getting done much quicker now. How many days do you guess the next one will last?” 

“I don’t know, about 4? Honestly, at this rate we’ll be able to complete these tests in less than a day. Dr. Quinn is going to purify this world!” 

The sounds of footsteps outside the door echo in the hallway. They're getting louder with every approaching step. Knock, knock. 

“Come in,” replies Dr. Quinn 

An unfamiliar man walks in and says, “Uhhh... I'm here for the clinical trial. You help people suffering from schizophrenia, right?” 

A slight chuckle bellows from Dr. Quinn as she replies, “ Yes. Please, come in.”