Postal (Chapter 1)

It's seems like I've gained a few more readers for this blog. Special shoutout to my fellow 2013 Scholars, you're kind comments have completely rekindled my love of writing and I can't wait to get to know you guys more for the next few years :)

Here's a short story I've written ages ago (completely different from the ones already posted -- my mind is just filled to the brim with half-baked ideas) so instead of letting it gather dust on my desktop, I decided to share with you all. Also because a certain someone insisted I continue with my short stories (yes, Julius, this means you).

So enjoy! :)

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Postal



The soft jingle of the bicycle’s bell echoed in the still, early morning. Speeding off like a bullet, the little boy mounted on top of the bike stopped pedaling as he reached the slope and went downwards, letting gravity supply the momentum.

He had always loved the hill-like roads of Ashenshire. The feeling of going up and down, against and with gravity, made his heart pound. Sometimes if he rode fast enough the tires of his bicycle would float a few inches off the ground as he glided over the top of the incline and for those few seconds before they came back down, it felt like he was flying.

An old canvas satchel was swung around his left shoulder, a slightly bulkier and rectangular one seated on the basket of the bike. He wore the clothes of any young boy — a pair of jeans, a fitting tee, and to cope with the cold rainy season, a pair of Wellington boots and a jacket. A grey denim beret rested at a slant on his head, tufts of wild, curly, chocolate brown hair peeking underneath.

He pulled back on the bike’s brakes and screeched to a stop in front of a small one-story house. He set up its stand and walked to the front porch, rummaging through his satchel.

Most people would think he was one of the newspaper boys, doing his rounds but the fact was, he was not. In his own eyes especially, the boy saw what he did every morning as a matter of grand importance. He didn’t have the responsibility of delivering news of the world to people’s doorsteps, most of which had nothing to do with him or attracted his concern. His duty was to help people sustain their connections and relationships with each other, be a bridge that relayed communication. He delivered their mail.

He pulled out a small bundle of letters, some thin, some thick, some small, some wide, but all of which were addressed to a Mrs. Hansten. The lad walked cheerfully up the steps and bent down onto his knees in front of a white, flower-patterned door so that his eyes became level with a metal, gold-painted slot. He began to slide the post through it when the door suddenly swung back, the appearance of a slim figure sending him tumbling backwards, landing on his bottom.

Mrs. Hansten in her blue cotton bathrobe was equally surprised and called out, "Alfie! I thought I heard someone coming. Heavens, dear, you scared me out of my wits!"

"Sorry, Mrs. Hansten," Alfie replied politely. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to deliver your mail!" Alfie held out the letters for her to take.

The old woman gave a small laugh. "Of course you are, dear. Why else would you be here?" Mrs. Hansten undid the rubber band and quickly glanced at the letters taking on a slight look of distaste. Bills, Alfie reckoned. Her expression suddenly turned to one of pure delight once she got to the bottom of the pile and Alfie personally knew it was the letter she waiting for. A letter from her son.

Alfie smiled inwardly. "Well, then, I must get going! Post to be delivered and such." He turned on his heel and began to set off.

"What's the rush, Alfie? Come inside and have a nice cup of tea, it's almost freezing out here. You're awfully early as it is."

"Couldn't sleep last night, I'm afraid," Alfie shared. "Not to worry, I'm perfectly fine! Early morning's the best time to deliver the mail, before anyone's awake. Imagine someone waking up and seeing they have no mail!"

"Oh, that would be tragic!" Mrs. Hansten joined in with slightly exaggerated shock.

"Maybe some other time then." Alfie had kicked back the stand and settled down on its leather seat, checking the next address on his delivery route. "Good day, Mrs. Hansten!" he greeted over his shoulder as he pedalled away.

"Good day, Alfie!" Mrs. Hansten smiled fondly. The boy was always a breath of fresh air during his stops. And such a kind heart he was, delivering the mail without asking for a single penny as payment.

She gently squeezed the yellow-enveloped letter in her hand. It was postmarked yesterday and without the local mail-boy's help it surely would've reached her much later.

In all honesty, his visits made her rusty soul feel less lonely, not that she was the kind to ever admit she was. Now impatient with anticipation she crudely ripped the envelope and unfolded the letter.

I'm coming home soon, read the first line.

And maybe Mrs. Hansten would not be so lonely anymore.

Both Ends of the Same Spectrum

Recently, I read a really insightful book called Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking written by Susan Cain.

(Coincidentally, the only reason I know about the book was because she was the first person I watched on TED, a conference where people discuss ideas. It's pretty cool, so if you feel like being inspired visit the TED website here).

The book is psychological non-fiction, based on Susan's intensive research about human temperament, mostly focusing on the terms introvert and extrovert. Susan has observed that there's a phenomenon she's called the Extrovert Ideal where the outgoing, loud, gregarious types are more favored over the cautious and contemplating.

In this modern age of media and competitiveness, there's sort of this need to 'self-promote'. You need to show off all your good qualities, so people can see them. People won't really take the time to find out what's lying underneathe, you know? And I get why that is. But the "Extrovert Ideal" as Susan explains can also be a double-edged sword.

Now, just to be clear, this book does not glorify introverts and belittle extroverts in anyway. In fact, Susan discusses the pros and cons of each side of the spectrum, and adresses the fact that there is a sense of favoritism leaning towards extrovertism, making the benefits of introvertism feel overlooked, challenging us to rethink our paradigms and shift them into a more open-minded direction.

This isn't really a book review. I'm not going into detail about what Susan Cain wrote, I just want to share my own thoughts on the subject, focusing on the introvert side. (I do think it's a really good book, so satisfy your curiosity and read it for yourself!)

Labels can be a bit of a scary thing, especially when there are negative connotations attached to them. So as I read Quiet I was excited and apprehensive at the same time. I felt like I could relate to the book. Susan shares so many experiences, stories she gathered from other people, some she experienced herself, about people just like me (quiet, reserved, the-always-stuck-in-their-heads type). And in each of those experiences there's this feeling that being that way (which for us is simply being ourselves naturally) is something that's discouraged, frowned upon.

There were times in the book when I smiled and thought Hey, I'm just like that! and times when I frowned and wondered Is that how people see me?

The problem is, that statistically one half to one third of the world's population are introverts. Like that quiet, smart kid that's sitting in you class ace-ing tests? They're probably an introvert. And you know what? They're probably getting bullied and made fun of too.

And that's really heartbreaking. Sure, they may be quiet, but being quiet doesn't mean someone isn't brilliant. They might have a hard time getting their ideas out there, or making sure their voice is heard, but that might be because there's never anyone around who's willing to listen.

People like that usually think before they speak. They have inhibitions which may seem like a disadvantage, but sometimes that cautiousness comes in handy in avoiding possible mishaps. But it is also does quiet thinkers who have a lot to contribute in the world. Think Vincent van Gogh and Albert Einstein. They didn't have their Eureka! moments at a pool party, hanging with the gang and socializing. They retreated into their minds and simply thought about things. You may not hear much during the process, but once introverts are sure with what they have, you can bet that the product of their thoughts is pretty damn amazing.

  

One aspect of the book that unnerved me was the fact that temperament is almost something genetic. The way you were born (like how sensitive you brain system is) can deeply influence how your basic instincts and personality is. I suppose some people can call that a relief. I am the way I am because of genetics. But it also seems to chuck our whole 'free will' philosophy out of the window. Like what if I don't want to be an introvert? Why can't I be peppy and loud and outgoing like others are? Because of genetics?

The book clearly underlined that though there is a acknowledgable scientific foundation to the formation of temperament, a lot of other variables such as the way you grew up, your environment, and yes, your choices will add up to who you are.

Lesson: No matter what anyone says, you can change yourself for the better.

Another heart-breaking point was seeing how people who were introverts at heart, had to become pseudo-extroverts, just to fall into the mold of the Extrovert Ideal. I do realize that being quiet all the time, doesn't do you any more good than talking too much does. There are times when you need to stand up and speak your mind, so others can hear what your thinking. There are also times when you need to step back and think, because charging ahead might cause you to crash.

But if you constantly have to go out and do something which doesn't come naturally to you, without letting anyone see your other side than isn't that the same as pretending? Lying to yourself, not being who you really are?

The problem is that introverts are being shamed into acting like extroverts. Some people feel like being quiet, means that there's something wrong with you, so does who naturally are, question themselves, try too hard to change. Some are even see as depressed or retarded, in need of therapy or medication.

Typical for human beings to see the different and outside-of-the-norm as mental illness, huh?

Some people think I'm quiet. Okay, I won't deny that because that's true. But when people use that against me and label me as 'anti-social' or 'arrogant' by jumping to conclusions it... It doesn't feel great. I feel like I'm being judged before I'm even presenting myself, and my instinct to that is to pull back, shy away...

And that's just really frustrating. Because I know that I'm not always what people make me out to be. I am so much more than they think or see. I can be loud, I can be weird, and I can be soooo lively around other people. But only if I feel comfortable with them, which might take a while.

It's sad to think that most people don't bother to look past those first impressions.

Which one was I then? Introvert or extrovert? Of course, noone can be a pure introvert or extrovert.

I can honestly admit I've been having a bit of an identity crisis lately for the past few years. It's like everytime I wake up I have an idea of who I want to be today. The cheery up-beat me that's gonna enjoy school and learning like she used to. Then there are the days I can't help but be the quiet, thoughtful me who over analyzes everything and can never seem to feel good about herself.

I think of myself as a walking mass of contradictions. There are a lot times when I confuse myself. I'm not really sure which of those sides are the real me. Sometimes I convince myself "All of those sides are you" and just confuse myself even more. But can a person really be so optimistic and brooding at the same time? Can a person really be so impulsive and cautious?

I've come to realize that I don't really feel the need to pick a side. I am sometimes one or the other and sometimes I can be both ends of the spectrum.

So here's what I think. Labels like introverts and extroverts, can be useful. They can help us understand who we are a little bit better so we can live our lives in way that's compliments that. But if you jump to conclusions and just tack them on so carelessly, then that my friends, is called prejudice.

So don't assume you know everything about someone. We are very, very complicated and cannot be summed up by a few trivial words. People are complex, so much bigger on the inside.

Even though you might be one over the other, just remember that basically we all exist on that same spectrum. Deep down, we are all the same.

Right now, I can't think of any other word that best describes collectively who I am other than this: me.

I. Am. Me.

One of a kind. And so are you.

So no matter how alienated you feel, no matter how different the world perceive you just remind yourself: I am me and noone else. Noone else can be me.

And believe me when I say, you can be so damn brilliant.

Thanks for reading!

-- Karin Novelia, Being the Best Me I Can Be