Seniors #1 Journal --In a Good Place
POST BEFORE TUESDAY NOVEMBER 23I'm not always up to date on the most novel vernacular, teen or otherwise. By the time I start using some "new" expression, it's bottomed out to the level of drab cliche. So if you get a "you go, girl" or an "atta boy" from me, try not to gawk in amazement at me as if I'm some ancient mariner.
Within the last year, people my age and in my small circle of very cool friends have begun to use the phrase "in a good place," as in "his boss gave him a raise today, so he's in a good place" or he was able to watch football all Sunday afternoon, so he was "in his good place."
Which leads me to a somewhat personal question: Where's your "good place?"
You SHOULD answer VERY literally and specifically, sparing no expense of travel.
Maybe take me to some sunny exotic island in the Bahamas, send me schussing down the Rockies, or lead me to traverse your favorite hiking spot on the Appalachian Trail.
Or perhaps you're the more "stay at home" type, who like Henry David Thoreau, could make a full day out of bird watching, sitting in his cabin doorway. Then stay at home. Describe what it's like to be playing the guitar or "chewing the fat" with your friends. Take me on an easy five mile jog with your Ipod at full blast and with your eyes (and other senses) wide open.
This journal will be somewhat similar to your next creative writing assignment. You can use this assignment to stretch your writing muscles before running the real race.
However, one requirement of your post at Schoolsville is that your "good place" MUST be a "good place." Please, I want no glimpses into any personal mansions of doom and gloom. As I might have said once or twice in the 70s, "Don't be such a downer, man."
For Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption, listening to the music of the "two Italian ladies" took his soul to heights that not even two weeks of prison lockup could destroy. Can our "good places" do the same?
posted by JTF @ 10:35 AM
45 comments
45 Comments:
I happen to be more of a stay-at-home kind of person, but not at my own house. My "good place" is in Shane's room, looking at his shelves full of tanks with a playlist of Sublime, Michael Franti, and Ballyhoo playing in the back round. His shelves full of tanks contain a variety of reptiles and amphibians that are very intriguing. We would feed the animals their meal of vitamin-coated crickets and fruit flies and talk about which animals are our favorites. The UV lights that are on a timer would go into "sunset" mode and begin slowly dimming. We would be belting-out "Say Hey, I Love You" by Micheal Franti and dancing around as we feed the herps. When the lights get too dim to see in order to feed the animals, we would turn on Discovery Channel and watch LIFE. I'm comfortable and relaxed in this setting. It's a place that I love and makes me happy even when I've had a horrible day. When I need to think of something to cheer me up, I think about this "good place."
I get to be in my good place ever weekend, and sometimes on certain week days when it works out for me to stay in Durham longer. In general its when I'm at home. Not here in the tiny apartment I live in during the week with my mom, but at my home. where i grew up, and where my dog is. Where i walk in the door and my nephew runs up to me saying "BUBBA!" and gives me a huge hug. more specifically, my good place is when I'm home and i am ready to go to bed. when I'm laying in the dark looking up at the ceiling. When I'm being held by a pair of strong, warm, familiar arms. or when I wake up in the morning in those same arms and we just lay there together not wanting to get up. it's the best when my dog is in the room and I'm on my stomach petting him while he lays next to the bed, and i feel a hand rubbing my back. those are the times when i wish time would stop. when I don't ave to worry about how bad it is when i have to come back here, or he pain i feel every day when i have to get up in the morning and face my fears of not being happy. When I'm there in bed, nothing matters, and nothing can touch me. not even the pools of tears I cried previously that week or that i will cry in the coming week.
My good place is my room. Some would characterize that as being weird or loser-ish, I characterize it as being a “homey person.” I’d curl up in my bed, with all my blankets, my four or plus pillows and my Hannah Montana blanket. I always have things in my bed; like remotes, my iPod, and my cell phone. When I walk in my room, it smells like a typical girl; scents of sweet bakery scents and Ed Hardy perfume permeate my room. I ALWAYS have food in my room. No matter what, there is always a type of candy and/or something else. My night table is always open with food bags of any sort flowing out of it and onto numerous water bottles that are finished at different levels. I’d like to say that I hibernate in my room. Most things that you could think of to need are in my room. If I had to detach my room and live out of it; I could probably survive a few days in it; realistically. I always have my TV; usually on mute… which really defeats all purposes but I always fall asleep with it on. I have movies so movie marathons could be held in my room. But, if you’re the more sophisticated type I have books and magazines scattered throughout. Also, you want to reach your inner child? I have plenty of coloring books and all types of utensils to use in them. My room is basically my little life escape. I always get cozy in my bed and do something that I think is productive. They say home is where the heart is; in this case my room is my little home and my heart is fully engrossed in it.
I have been in my favorite place only a few times, but this is hands down my "good place". My good place is in the Caribbean on St. John Island on Cinnamon Bay beach. There's no feeling like it in the world to me. The peacefulness when floating on your back in the water soaking up the sun. Or the feeling of sand beneath your toes. Or going snorkeling and seeing really cool fish through the crystal clear blue water. Not a having a single worry in the whole world. Just the total feeling of happiness. Listening to birds and watching the other kids around having a blast. While on Cinnamon Bay it's as if a smile is permanently pressed into my face because there isn't a second that goes by when I'm not smiling. Time flies bye faster than ever on Cinnamon Bay. When late evening hits and there's more birds than people, I love to sit and relax and have some cheese and crackers on the beach. It just doesn't get much better than that. Some people say I'm really spoiled for being able to take these trips so often at such a young age. And those people are probably right, however having enjoyed this place so much it motivates me to want to be able to come back to my "good place" as often as possible. It motivates me to work as hard as possible so I'm able to enjoy these trips one day on my own pay check.
My happy place would undoubtedly be Dewey Beach, Delaware. Being as though I have never left the country, or experienced pearl white grains of sand or aqua blue water where you can see the fishes swimming near your feet, this is as good as it gets for me. I am not downing Dewey though, I love it there. I love to roam the streets all night with friends, going to various different houses catching up with people you haven’t seen all summer. A late night meal at Momma Celeste’s Pizza shop is a must. Once you’ve had enough you can return to your respective sleeping spot at a ridiculously late time, but its okay, because it’s the norm here. The best part is sleeping as late as you please. Then waking up, grabbing a bite to eat, and heading to the beach where I will probably lay on a towel and sleep some more; possibly applying some tanning oil in hopes of attaining a respectable tan. Once you have caught up on your sleep on the beach, friends are always close by to go swimming in the ocean with. Or perhaps you just would like to walk down the beach running in to many people you know, for what I like to call, “stop and chats”. This is my happy place. This is a perfect scenario for me, surrounding myself with my closest family and friends. Whether you’re down for a whole week repeating this process several times in a row, or just down for the weekend. In my eyes, it doesn’t get much better than that.
My happy place is in my imagination. When I get lost in my own little world of creativity, I can completely forget a bad day or a bad place. I don’t have to just stick with the same old place over and over; even if it’s rather beautiful. I can change it however I want. I can take myself to Hogwarts to play Quitage with Harry Potter. We can fly around on our broomsticks on a chilly fall day and fight over the golden snitch. I can take myself to the upside down, topsy-turvy land of Wonderland. I can riddle with TweedleDee and TweedleDum over who ate all the oysters or chase the white rabbit that always seems to be late for an important date. I can sing with all the dandelions and tiger lilies, even though they tend to growl at one another. I can even take myself to my own made up world; a world filled to the brim with fields on sunflowers I can lounge in. I can create a world where the nymphs dance gracefully on the red mushrooms speckled with white spots. Lastly, I could make a world of just white. There, I would have a paint brush and a pallet covered in every possible color known to man (and some only known to aliens). The world would be my canvas to create whatever and however my little mind could dream up. It was Albert Einstein who once said “Logic will get you from A to B, but imagination will take you everywhere.”
I am more of the stay at home type, but my "good place" isn't at my home. My favorite place is the DuPont Theater where I have my dance recitals every year and since I am always on that stage, it feels like home. The warmth from the stage lights, though annoying when I'm dancing, are comforting. The theater has that new furniture smell mixed with the smell of hairspray since our hair has to be plastered to our heads. Also, the area under the stage where we have our dressing rooms has lots of good memories of the ridiculous costumes we had to wear, the best routines and the craziest ones we had to learn, and best of all, the people I got to do all of it with. Just the scenery with it's big, fancy red curtains and blinding lights make me feel like a professional dancer. It is definately something I am going to miss once I've graduated.
As I fly down the mountain, feeling the ice cold wind bite at my face, I realize just how fast I’m going. It doesn’t scare me though, it’s too exhilarating. I lean forward and urge my skis to go faster and faster, leaving all my troubles in a cloud of snow behind me. This is my absolute favorite feeling in the world, and there is no place I would rather be than on the ski slopes. My first time skiing was just two years ago and it didn’t start off very well. I decided to skip taking the class because majority of the group of friends I was going with had already been several times and I didn’t want to be alone. This was a terrible decision on my part because I ended up spending the entire first half of the day by myself anyways. Every few feet I would fall on purpose because I had no idea how to slow down, turn, or stop and I was terrified I was going to run into someone or something. I didn’t give up though and eventually after being told to “pizza” and “french fries” all day, it clicked. The rest of the day I refused to get off the slopes and began to really get the hang of it, falling less and less each time I went down the mountain. By the time we boarded the bus at the end of the day, I was already planning our next trip, determined to come back as soon as possible. That cold February day, I fell in love with skiing. Since then I’ve been numerous times and even gone away to the Poconos for a long weekend (which was the best time of my life). I’m so glad I decided to go to Blue Mountain that day two years ago and discover what would become my favorite thing.
Some people have their good place in their bedrooms, or in some place far away where they vacationed some time before. My good place is right outside my classroom window, overlooking the football field of St. Mark’s. The spring smells, the birds chirping, and the cool air breeze are the first things to let me know it’s finally the right season. My clothes are the same uniforms as they have been for the past four years, green skirt, black socks, white jersey. Number eighteen is printed proudly on my chest. I look at my field and rerun memories of games and plays from practice in my head. When I step onto this field, I truly am in the moment. I see the triangular net at the end of the field, picturing how many goals will be scored by the Spartans this time. I don’t see any school work or any family events, any worries and drama. My mind is clear and focused. I step onto the field, knowing that I will play my game as hard as I can. A million emotions flood my heart, and my head is in the zone. Nothing and no one will touch me at this moment. I am confident. I am ready. I am prepared. I know I’m at my good place with green grass all around me and my lacrosse stick in my hand, legs ready to run, and my mind set to succeed. No other place can make me feel this way, and I know that as soon as I step onto that field, my mind is free and my body is loose. I could stay on that field for hours and still remain happy. I am at school on my lacrosse field with the bleachers and nets surrounding me. I am home.
My good place is very simple. Yes I would love to travel the world and see all that there is to possibly see but I am confident that the one place I would always go back to Dewey beach. It is hands down my favorite place in the entire world. Before I can even remember my mom has been taking me down there and all my childhood memories revolve around that house. There is something so naturally freeing about the beach that captivates me every time I’m there, it’s the only place where I can completely let myself go and not worry about anything. If I could I would spend everyday there I don’t think I could ever get tired of it. There is something that’s so familiar, yet so different every time I comeback. My absolute favorite is taking naps on the beach. It’s so easy to fall asleep to the sound of the rolling waves with the warm sun on your back. And when you wake up your welcomed to the sun setting and the afterglow of the day is cast everywhere making everything golden. Seagulls are my favorite animals. Most people think they are obnoxious and annoying but I think that they are perfect. I wouldn’t feel like I’m at the beach if there wasn’t a seagull squawking in the distance. Dewey beach has been a second home to me for my entire life, I know that I can always go there when everything is wrong and it helps me center myself.
I don't consider myself a stay-at-home sort of person, but my own "good place" is my room. It's where I run straight to after I get inside the house, I close my door and I'm in my getaway. It's your typical teenage girl room, with the pink from floor-to-ceiling painted walls, pictures of me and my friends lining my closet, clothes strewn across the floor, and tons of mirrors. I can lay right on my bed and cozy up with tons of stuffed animals under a couple heavy blankets, and forget the rest of the world. Or if I want to interact with the rest of the rest of the world, I have my laptop on the desk always ready to be carried onto the bed, and my cell phone at my side, with the TV on all the time, usually muted so I can listen to music instead. I can fall asleep to the sound of my guinea pigs squeaking and purring in their cage on the other side of my room, and on a night where I can't fall asleep, they're always there to play with and keep me busy. But of course in the early morning, because my room faces the East, the sunrise wakes me up and I listen to all the birds chirping or the geese gawking in the woods behind my house. It hasn’t even been a nuisance though, the sounds have gotten pretty calming, especially on a cool summer morning. My parents have told me that I hibernate in my room, which I think is true, it does seem to be like my own little cave where I keep all things close to me, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. My cave is my “good place”, my getaway.
The silky slice of my blade through the crisp ice is exactly what I feel when I enter my good place. As I step onto the ice I go into another realm where reality seems to cease, and my undivided attention is on what’s beneath me. As I step on I don’t have a plan. I don’t have anything but the blank canvas of ice beneath my skates, just waiting to be delved into. This is precisely when I enter my good place. It is the unique glide I feel as my blades carve through the smooth surface. I bend my knees and use the ice to propel me forward. There is the familiar gust of cold air that envelops my face, blowing my hair back as I gain speed. Momentarily I am on top of a mountain in the dead of winter, with nothing but cold air and ice surrounding me. I feel the coldness turning my nose pink, and my face flushes as it feels the bitter bite of the cold air. I then return to the ice, ready to get some air beneath me. This is one of my favorite feelings; being air borne and rapidly spinning for about a second. During this second there is no sense of time, place, or setting. Its just you up there rotating; and its just you that’s going to land on one blade, about 4 millimeters thick, on a sheet of unforgiving ice. My heart races as I gain speed to prepare for lift off. It’s as if I am an airplane now; I spread my wings and thrust myself forward. From here on my body is on autopilot. Now I can sit back and relax, and enjoy the ride my body and skates are about to take me on.
My good place that I have is camping in the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia. As you climb to your destination you reach a place that you never thought was possible and you forget everything that is going on in your personal life and take in the natural beauty of nature which is “priceless”. Wildlife surrounds the very being of your stature and you enter into a world of being one with nature. I awaken in the mornings to below 40 degrees and quickly grab a sweatshirt to keep warm before unzipping the frozen zipper of the tent. As I put one foot outside of the tent I step into a complete serenity of peace. I open my eyes and see a deer by the charcoaled fire ring eating the leftovers from dinner from the night before. I look at the bear bag and see a paw print embedded on the outside and admire the wildlife around me. As I walk around the campsite I gather the fallen limbs of trees to create a fire to cook an omelet for breakfast. The small kindling is set in the middle of the tee pee fire and the match reacts to the case to make a spark of fire. I throw it into the fire and watch as the flame becomes my outdoor stove. Throughout the day I hike the trails down into the untouched falling water, otherwise known as the pristine waterfalls that are naturally carved into the side of the mountain. In the distance you see a black bear playing with her baby cubs through the heavily populated trees. You realize that you have to keep your distance to not challenge the flow of nature’s everyday life. As the visit comes to an end you realize how much you are missing out on and realize what you have witnessed as a “once in a lifetime opportunity”.
I have always been sort of nocturnal. If I could have it my way the day would not begin until three in the afternoon and end around five in the morning. My "good place" occurs around three in the morning and all I have to do is drive. My favorite nights are right after it rains so the roads reflect the traffic lights in streaks of color. I am all alone in my minivan, blasting music, and gliding along the abandoned streets, perfectly content. It's like I'm in my own little bubble rolling around in a world all to myself. Driving is relaxing to me because it takes me completely out of my head; all that I need to focus on is the road. The dashboard is all lit up, the dark of the night acting like a mirror, bouncing the colors around. I melt into the drivers seat and sing whole-heartedly along with my favorite bands, totally at ease.
My "good place" is Emerald Isle, NC. Hands down, no questions asked. Almost every summer my family heads down for our famous, very much needed, week long beach vacation. Inside the rental house is the typical tacky beach décor, shells and starfish cover the walls. I hear familiar voices sometimes with our typical country music playing in the back round, or I hear the clanging of pots because this southern family sure loves to eat. When I step outside I hear the waves crashing, the wind blowing, and the family laughs all the way down the beach. The cool breeze smells of salt and frizzes my hair but only in my “good place” does it not bother me. The almost empty beach relaxes me, no stress of finding a spot or someone practically sitting on top of you while you’re asleep. The refreshing, not ice cold, water soothes my skin from the attempted tanning that turned into an uncomfortable burn, but no matter what the situation, good or bad, my “good place” will always be my “good place”.
My good place is Key Box. Key Box is a beach right past Dewey, but right before the Indian River Inlet Bridge on the Atlantic Ocean side. I have been there a countless number of times and every time I go it gets better and better. I always go with my friends, family, and sometimes even a dog or two. We wake up around nine o’clock, pack up all our beach supplies, and toss them in the trunk of our SUV. We drive to Key Box and let the air out of the tires so we can drive right onto the sandy beach. This beach is almost never crowded so we back up to the beach unload a few chairs, and set up the umbrella. My dad baits his fishing pole and waits for the fish to bite. I’m very fair skinned so I spray on tons of sunscreen that probably can be smelled by the whole beach. I lay out a towel put my shades on, and crack out the latest issue of TeenVogue. As I read my magazine all I can hear is the waves crashing. I can feel the sun beating down on me and the light mist of the ocean spray. When I am on Key Box beach I am relaxed, peaceful, and worry free, that is when I truly know that am in my good place.
In the summer when I’m down at my beach house, every evening I would walk down a block to the beach. On most of these occasions, heavy pink and orange clouds would hang low in the sky following the sun as it made its way over the horizon. The warm glow from the sky gave everything a tint of sepia. Orange glares hung on every street sign and bike rack. Stepping onto the sand my feet would soak up the last bit of warmth stored in its particles from earlier in the hot day. The orange glow from the sky reflecting onto the water mixed with the large blobs of swirling, bubbling white foam made the ocean look like a giant cup of coffee sloshing around an infinite coffee mug. I would lie directly down on the slowly cooling sand and stare up at the enormous painted sky. The slightly chilly breeze would send my loose hairs dancing across my face tickling my cheeks. I would squeeze the sand between my toes and rub the tiny grains into my fingertips. Sometimes I don’t know how long I would lie there, just watching the pink sky fade to purple, then to black, and observing as each twinkling star popped up across the sky. The waves would continue to throw themselves up onto the shore pleasing my ears with every crash. I treasure these times. I feel at peace there. No matter where I am, if I ever need to hide from the chaos of daily life, I can lie down, close my eyes and imagine I am in my “good place” squeezing the sand between my toes.
I am very fortunate to have a family who makes traveling a priority. They plan trips that engulf me into a realm of relaxation. The destinations hold such intense beauty and the insight gained is indescribable. My latest exotic “good place” was the island of Crete in Greece. My family bumped over unpaved paths and turned around every narrow bend in order to see everything Crete could offer us. Without any photo shop or tinted sunglasses the water sparkled like a sapphire ring under the golden sun. White houses arose from hillsides and created contrast from the olive groves. The civilians were browned to their likeness and gave off genuine smiles accompanied by waves. In the midst of this plethora of beauty was a breakfast place by the name of “Rhati”. This translates into relaxation. It was in walking distance from where we stayed and it was my “great place”. The restaurant was covered in a canopy of flowery vines and bright petals fell to its stone floor. The sweet scents poured out and lured me in. It embodied everything I love, espresso machines and desserts that somehow pass as breakfast. I can honestly say it was heaven for me. Homemade cappuccino to thin sweet crepes to whip cream covered waffles to warm baked pies and freshly squeezed orange juice (yyyuuuuummm!). Tina and Ben were the couple that owned and ran Rhati. They were the friendliest people and better yet awesome cooks. It was truly an experience like no other. I peered out onto a landscape of immense beauty and remained content sitting inside Rhati.
A great place for me to be would have to be Kitty Hawk, Outer Banks. Kitty Hawk reminds of a quaint hardworking town where people make an honest living. Going through the town itself people seem to have a warm aura about them. All of the houses look to be made up of the toughest, smoothest, most beautiful lumber that one can find. The natural everyday breeze of the coast line circulates through the nostrils giving an incomprehensible sense of refreshment. The sand of the beaches is smooth and slender as silk. The ocean roars like and exploding volcano giving a sense of awe. The days go by slow and steady just as they should, but at the same the weeks can fly by. At night the crabs engulf the beach creating a sense of excitement. One could also fish for hours in any random location and not get bored. Falling asleep is effortless due to steady crash of the nearby ocean. When one wakes up they feel unreasonably fresh and ready to take on the day's challenges. Making new friends and meeting new people is a very common thing to do because of the welcoming personalities of so many people there. Kitty Hawk is the place to be.
My happy place is not really a specific place. The one thing that gives me comfort when nothing else can would be food. I am in my perfect world when I am surrounded by my family having a good meal. Specifically, I love going out to dinner. I can’t really explain why I love it so much. I guess I feel in control when I have people waiting on me hand and foot, bringing me what my heart desires. Honestly, I don’t care where I am. It could be anywhere from McDonalds to The Melting Pot and I would be perfectly content stuffing my face with whatever is put in front of me. Food is simple yet complex. It always makes me feel happy no matter how my day is going.
I probably enjoy staying around home more than the next guy. Springtime really brings my home alive. The windows are open, and the light breeze is rattling the blinds against the window frames. I hear the sound of a lawnmower way off in the distance. I go outside and take a look around. The light green leaves are now fully grown on every branch of every tree. With the exception of the random trees which their flowers have not bloomed. I take a walk up the street and see my neighbor vacuming his car, and another doing yard work. I look down the hilly street and see the landscape dotted with pink and white flowered trees. The sky is criss-crossed with the jet clouds. There's an occasional airplane overhead. Everything seems to be perfect then. After a while it loses it's value, but after a long winter that spring day is all I want.
My 'good place' in the this world is on a horses back. No matter where I am riding it is always my good place. However my best place is being in my good place, at night underneath the stars. There is nothing like riding alone in the dark, the moon reflects off sand and gives it a subtle luminous glow, making it almost seem as though you were riding on the moon itself. The stars shine through the dark black blanket of peace. I take time to focus on my horses breathing and footsteps, making a pattern and relaxing melody out of the two. The squishing of the sand and the gentle concentrated exhales. I concentrate deeply and let every thought slip through my mind, forgetting everything that was troubling me from my day. Occasional hoots of a barn owl, calls of foxes in the distance, crickets cooing their lullabys and the rustling of leaves in the woods each add in their own solos to my horses melody. As I take in my melody I let my muscles relax and the movement between my horse and I become in perfectly synchronized, and as I look up to the sky the stars are dancing with us. This is not just my good place, it's my great place.
Sitting at the bottom of my steps, I am tying my laces tight to go for my three mile run through the paths of Hockessin Athletic Center (HAC). I turn to my iTouch to put on a slow song. As I stand up I start to concentrate on every step I take, and walking down the steps into the garage, I get in the zone. I stop to stretch for a few minutes before the cold brisk air hits my tight, tense muscles. I’m ready for the battle against the pain and cool weather. Walking out into the wind, I can feel the wind bite at my skin as I walk up my driveway and into the street. At this point, I grab my iTouch and put on the “Going Out<3” playlist that has all upbeat songs like Lady Gaga and Ke$ha. The volume turned all the way up, blasting in my ear, I start my jog. I feel my feet pound the ground so I start to move quicker to have “Light feet.” Running through my neighborhood, I end up in the hidden trials of the HAC. My feet strike the ground rhythmically. First mile is done. I glide by the soccer field when the little kids are practicing shooting on the goal. Memories come flowing back to me from my old practices with my first soccer team and all the friendships made. Watching the little girl’s faces as they smile and jump for joy when they would get the ball in the goal made me smile from their excitement. Then the girls disappear has I dip back out of reality and go in to the woods. The sun light is peeking through the trees and touching every other foot of the path showing me the way through the woods. A woman walking her dog passes by struggling to hold on to her dog that wants to jump up on me. The woman’s reaction to the dog is annoyed as if the dog as been doing it a lot lately. The dog’s eyes pierce mine as if telling me to speed up to get away. Second mile is done. Right now I am victorious over the battle with the cold but the pain is starting to triumph over me. The cramps start to come striking me in the side and trying to hold me back. This is where my mental health needs to kick in to get me through the last stretch of this race. Out of the woods, I see the world anew, more people on the path and the girls still practicing but the sun is shining brighter than ever. The kids on their water break wave as I pass them to leave to go back home. Waving back to them, I start to forget about the daggers going into my side and wipe away the sweat that is going into my eyes. Entering my neighborhood, my neighbors are out in their yards cleaning up leaves and weeding their grass. I wave going by which to me symbolizes how good my run was. I slow down to the presence of my house and walk down the driveway. Third mile is done. Now I can’t wait to see the girl’s practice again next week because I am victorious against the battle between the pains and cold.
Sitting at the bottom of my steps, I am tying my laces tight to go for my three mile run through the paths of Hockessin Athletic Center (HAC). I turn to my iTouch to put on a slow song. As I stand up I start to concentrate on every step I take, and walking down the steps into the garage, I get in the zone. I stop to stretch for a few minutes before the cold brisk air hits my tight, tense muscles. I’m ready for the battle against the pain and cool weather. Walking out into the wind, I can feel the wind bite at my skin as I walk up my driveway and into the street. At this point, I grab my iTouch and put on the “Going Out<3” playlist that has all upbeat songs like Lady Gaga and Ke$ha. The volume turned all the way up, blasting in my ear, I start my jog. I feel my feet pound the ground so I start to move quicker to have “Light feet.” Running through my neighborhood, I end up in the hidden trials of the HAC. My feet strike the ground rhythmically. First mile is done. I glide by the soccer field when the little kids are practicing shooting on the goal. Memories come flowing back to me from my old practices with my first soccer team and all the friendships made. Watching the little girl’s faces as they smile and jump for joy when they would get the ball in the goal made me smile from their excitement. Then the girls disappear has I dip back out of reality and go in to the woods. The sun light is peeking through the trees and touching every other foot of the path showing me the way through the woods. A woman walking her dog passes by struggling to hold on to her dog that wants to jump up on me. The woman’s reaction to the dog is annoyed as if the dog as been doing it a lot lately. The dog’s eyes pierce mine as if telling me to speed up to get away. Second mile is done. Right now I am victorious over the battle with the cold but the pain is starting to triumph over me. The cramps start to come striking me in the side and trying to hold me back. This is where my mental health needs to kick in to get me through the last stretch of this race. Out of the woods, I see the world anew, more people on the path and the girls still practicing but the sun is shining brighter than ever. The kids on their water break wave as I pass them to leave to go back home. Waving back to them, I start to forget about the daggers going into my side and wipe away the sweat that is going into my eyes. Entering my neighborhood, my neighbors are out in their yards cleaning up leaves and weeding their grass. I wave going by which to me symbolizes how good my run was. I slow down to the presence of my house and walk down the driveway. Third mile is done. Now I can’t wait to see the girl’s practice again next week because I am victorious against the battle between the pains and cold.
The Delaware State Park Beach, with family, friends, and fun all contribute to my happy place. We get there at sun up, and make the most out of the day until sunset. The umbrella stands tall, although halfway drilled into the sand. It casts a delightful barrier from the sun, covering our cooler, and our sun burnt almost albino-like cousins. After the chairs are all popped up, still full of sand from the last trip, we all race down to the water. Without hesitating we dive into the waves, into the not so blue but more greenish brown water. From then on, you couldn’t pull us out of the water for anything, except when its lunchtime. Almost starved we stumble about in the water, trying to make our way back to shore to get a hold of those prized sandwiches, made and personalized for each of us by grandma. Faster than they were made, the sandwiches were devoured. Now we were definitely ready to make our annual gigantic hole and sand castle. Just imagine, a 5x5x5 hole, with a huge pile of sand next to it that is beginning to be fashioned into a castle. As the day goes on, we work on the hole, then when we get hot we swim, then we work on the hole, then when we get hot we swim, etc. At five on the dot, the lifeguards order everyone out of the water, throwing their towel in for the day. But the Smith family is still going strong.
I want to start off by saying that I love my good place with a passion and that it is my baby. Well, I bet you’re wondering what could be a place that you love and is a baby. Actually it’s not really a baby at all but it is my car which just happens to be a big Expedition that I call my baby. My baby is my comfort zone where I feel like no one can be mean or make rude comments while in my baby. I could probably live out of my good place because I already keep all of my stuff in there and I wouldn’t ever have to leave. Since my car is a 2000 model I have to treat it very delicately. Whenever I have to cut someone off and really accelerate I tell my car good job and that I’m sorry for pushing it so hard and I rub the dashboard. People think that it’s weird and have made funny comments but I don’t care because I’m so happy when in my good place. My baby takes care of me and when I’m in it I feel like nothing can hurt me. I can be going 95 mph on I-95 and 60mph on Fox Den Rd. but nothing can stop me because I’m in my good place. During the summer I take my car to the beach and as I drive I’m just so happy because it does me so much good. I love taking long drives by myself to wherever the road takes me. As I drive, I turn the stereo volume all the way up and pick a mix of CDs to continuously play. My baby and I are in perfect synch. There aren’t really words to describe me and my good place except for what I said in the beginning which is I really do love it with a passion and it is my baby.
My good place definitely has to be on the weekends when I am out with my friends and in Newark. Laughter echoes down Main Street. Random whistles from drunk guys peirce yours ears. Then more laughter when we laugh about the drunks. Best part are the cops whose sirens are everywhere and at every turn you make getting all the underage drinkers or breaking up the bangers. And you cannot ignore the smell of panera and then cosi followed by catherines'. The smell of all that delicious food makes me flat broke cuz I can't not eat it! It's screams my name with every step I take further then the door. Newark is always poppin' off and honestly that is my good place. It's never silent, and it's always exciting and something hysterical happens every weekend. And every weekend my friends and I say "I cannot wait to live her next year." Newark and main street are my without a doubt good place and there is nothing that can change that because Newark isn't changing!
My favorite place to be is probably rehoboth beach. I love being there because it has an overall relaxing environment. This is the only time I don't mind getting up early. I love getting out on the beach and setting up my family's umbrella and beach chairs. The soft sand and sound of the ocean is comforting to me. I only get to go once a year so when I'm there I appreciate every minute of it. The excitement at night on the boardwalk and the crowds of people are fun to watch. I also look forward to buying salt water taffy while I'm there. There's just something about being at the beach that temporarily changes my mood and i look forward to getting there this summer!
My good place is my beach house in Michigan. When I tell people I’m going to the beach in Michigan, they look at me kind of funny. No one realizes that there is amazing sandy beach in the middle of the country but there is. The sand is pure and white. The lake is like a fresh water ocean some days and flat as glass other. The house is right on the beach. You step out of the garage and are in sand. It is peaceful and quite. You can walk for hours on the beach in either directions and see maybe three people tops. Since the beach is private, we have waves runs, motorboats, sailboats, canoes, and kayaks on the beach waiting to be out in the water. The days are full of playing with these toys and swimming. Some of the best part happen a night. There is the prettiest sunset in the world. The sky is full of colors as the sun sinks into the water. At night you can see all of the stars, even shooting stars. On clear night you can see the light from cities across the water. This amazing place is so amazing because it is a hidden gem and I love it.
My "good place" is the football field, the marching field. The stadium is my theatre, the field is the stage and the spectators are the audience. As I stand on the sideline waiting to go on, I get so excited. I want to just run on the field and toss my flag. The thrill of marching on as a band clears my troubles. The music of the band lifts my spirits and puts a smile on my face. The drum line is always loud and crazy but they keep a strong beat to march to. Spinning takes physical strength and mental self control, but it's never a problem once I'm out on the field. The flag is light and weightless and I spin with ease. It is also one of my favorite things to do when I am angry or have had a bad day. You can put your anger and frustration into your tosses and watch the flag sore above you; as the flag is up in the air, all of your troubles float up into the sky and they are lifted off of your chest. When the show is finished, you feel so proud. This is why the I'm always the happiest when it comes to football games; I have the chance to go to my "good place" and enjoy the glory of it.
My good place is without a doubt is the Drive on beach down in Sussex County. It’s every Sunday, all day, no cares in the world, just relaxing all day. It’s like one big family at the drive on. Everyone knows everyone, everyone is taking everyone else’s food, everyone is playing everyone else’s games, and it is just pure happiness. Getting out of the big four wheel drive truck, taking the first step in the hot sand, makes everything just feel so right. All the trucks are lined up with the fishing poles close to hand, ready to let them fly. All my friends and loved ones relaxing under the sun, parent’s with cold beers in their hands, letting all the stress go from the past week at work. We sit on the back of a jacked-up tailgate, laughing and carrying on, and soaking up some hot sun rays. The surfer boys go off and surf the gnarly waves and everyone cheers for them when they do good, but also laugh when the face plant. As we all sit, eat, laugh, and the day continues, we watch together the beautiful sunset. Everyone is so thankful for a great day at the drive on with all the people they love surrounding them. Nothing can get much better then this.
A "good place" to me is a place where I can relax my nerves, unload from the day, and just find real peace. This place for me would probably have to be my neighborhood. It's not just one enclosed niche, but a whole open and free atmosphere. Everyday I find time to plainly just walk around my neighborhood. Its so scerene and relaxing. It's probably the only thing keeping me sane, to have this place where I can just walk and think. So many thoughts rush in and out of my mind like an intersection at Times Square. This affords me time to reflect on thoughts and just have some quiet time. It really does do the mind some good. When we live in a world thats so dynamic and loud, the quiet time that many people need and seek just cannot be woven into their lives, and it's ashame. But I have reaped such benefits frm this simple ritual that I can't stop it It's a part of my lifestyle, not being able to unleash thoughts is like an erupting volcano with a collosal boulder pluging its only way out. This is my "good place" and what a place it is.
My "good place" is on stage dancing. The smell of an auditorium that can not be duplicated in any other place. The blinding lights give you both butterflies and adrenaline. The sounds of either slow peaceful music or the loud rhythmic sounds of a more upbeat number. Not being able to see the faces in the audience but still able to sense their enjoyment. Glancing down and noticing how the dance shoes grace the floor almost effortlessly. Stray sequins and glitter lay at your feet from previous costumes. Exiting the stage through the dark wings, anticipating the flower bouquet you would receive this year. This is my good place and it brings me just pure happiness. Never once have I had a sad, unhappy moment while on stage.
My good place happens to be the beach. A lot of people probably claim this to be their good place. It’s the slight breeze the cools me off when the sun is beating down. The crashing of the waves that reminds me of a strong power that is near me. As soon as my family parks the car my excitement increases and I can already feel the hot sand burning my feet. When stepping onto the beach your first mission is trying to get to your place of relaxation for the day where you put your blanket. You try to avoid the burning sensations of the sand but somehow can’t escape it. But then you reach the perfect spot right infront of the water, take your shoes off, and run to the water to cool my feet off. But before I can bask in the sun rays I have to coat myself with sun tan lotion, one of the best smells in the world. Sun tan lotion almost becomes your perfume for the summer. Then I start to lay on the blanket trying to catch some rays and darken my olive complexion skin. My body starts to sweat and I become hot so I run to the water. As soon as I dive into the waves I feel a coolness and am more refreshed than ever. The beach provides me with serenity and calmness. At the beach there is no stress that can get to you. I only thing to worry about is getting burnt from the sun. The beach will forever be my good place.
I'd have to say that my idea of a "good place" would most definitely have to be somewhere with a lot of books, a wide and frequently updated music collection, and food, there has to be food. At this point in my life, my room is the closest thing that comes close to be described as that.
My room is not that clean and most of the time there are random things scattered about the floor as if they'd been dumped there carelessly. Books, papers, and school supplies litter the floor, only to be pushed against the wall instead of put away as they should be. One can find random bits of the past just by looking around the room, whether it is on the floor, where the occasional newsletter, or the parking pass from last year just waiting to be put into the box with all the other "reminders" that have piled up over the years. On the walls, one sees pictures; from when I used to be a Girl Scout, those times seem like so long ago. The diploma from my eighth grade "graduation" ceremony, a picture of my face with a drawn body and badger next to it; to even the piece of drift wood from summer camp with the year and date on it. Each item having it own story; each to be seen differently as if anything it was truly up to the viewer to decide what it really meant. Then there is the laptop table which was supposed to be used for working on, is cluttered with random objects; some earrings; Triaminic Cough Syrup; hair clips; deodorant and various other things, that just laying there, lifeless and untouched until someone comes searching for something. The room is always somehow much warmer than the rest of the house is, and even if it's chilly there is always something to put on to cover up and keep warm in, either a jacket, or another shirt. Clothes aren't hard to come by, look in the closet, in the floor, by the bed, on the bed, almost everywhere and you'll be able to find some sort of clothing either folded to be put away or to be worn to bed. Food is right where someone looking for a midnight snack would want it, in close proximity to the head of the bed. On the floor and table within arms reach give or take a little stretching. Water bottles filled with some water, and sometimes the odd soda bottle lying empty on the floor from a study session or after-school snack. Lets not forget the fat and lazy cat that likes to sit next to someone who is working, then proceeds to take their place if they should happen to get up to pick something up, always there never leaving and quite obnoxious when trying to do something quickly. The laptop is always somewhere in the room either on the floor or on the end of the bed waiting to be used. The overall feeling of the room is well used and loved.
It might seem a little bit strange that my happy place is actually located at school. Before I had a car I would walk to Videre to get picked up. More often then not, I would feel stressed from school. As I would walk the back way out of school (usually alone, which made the scene much more satisfying)I would see the most(at least in my opinion) peaceful scene of nature. It is a large green, grassy hill set ablaze by the sun. No matter what kind of day I was having all I would have to do is look and take a deep breath and feel such a wonderful feeling of peace and calm. I still don't fully know why this grassy hill evokes this response from me. Maybe its the green grass or the beautiful sunset or a slight breeze. Or maybe its simply the fact that this area's peace is all due to nature's simple beauty.
It sounds cliché but my "good place" is the beach. I live there in the summer and it's the one place i always feel at peace. I can feel peaceful there even on the 4th of July with thousands of other people. The cool breeze and the crashing of the waves could put me to sleep in a matter of minutes. I can take the best naps there. The beach is also a reminder of my family; I grew up going there with them. Every weekend is like a reunion there. My best childhood memories are from the beach; covering myself in a blanket of sand, making sand castles, and swimming for hours at a time. I visit the beach all times of the year. Even in the coldest days of winter the beach still makes me happy, it's a constant reminder of happiness for me. I prefer it in the summer the most, early in the morning. Each sound at the beach is exciting to me, even the sound of the seagulls (which most people dislike). Nature provides a break from reality where I can clear my head. My ideal summer day is sitting in a beach chair under a nice umbrella watching the water. You can’t forget the aromas and tastes you experience at the beach either; the taste of the salt water, the smell of sun block, the french-fries soaked in vinegar. I love that the beach will ALWAYS be there, no matter where I move, or what I do I can always come back to visit. The beach is a constant in life, where a lot of other things are always changing.
Serenity, lucidity, tranquility. Serene feelings that everlastingly reassure my worries rush throughout my body. A natural high; feeling good, feeling great. My good place? No doubt about it. Couldn’t ask for a better one. Outer Banks, North Carolina takes the credit. Back and forth, breaking through the calming breeze, I feel at peace with everything around me. Closing my eyes, the mind follows. I think no thoughts therefore all worries, fears, illusions are gone. And without them, I am a sole character with nothing to show except the internal tingling of my soul, residing upon the stillness I endure to withhold. I could get used to this. Nothing could ever make this moment subside, it’s far too precious. A warming beam of light beats down on my skin, giving me endurance to face anything. I’m invincible- is what I feel to believe at this point. Salt, sand and freshly cut grass fill the air, the air that I breathe. The substance taken in is what completes the perfection. Anything that seemed horrible- suddenly wasn’t anymore. This good place fulfills my heart and everything I’ve come to think, feel, believe. Who knew that one place, one scene, one moment, could create the desirable fantasy in which life could bring? That is the definition of my “good place.” And trust me; I know when I’m there. I don’t ever want to leave. Reality is better than ever expected, in fact, there are no expectations. No disappointments, sacrifices, or pain of any kind. The goodness that exists here, is eternal.
My good place is Powfoot, in Dumfries Scotland. It has a beach, thats not really a beach. Next to the road is hundreds of giant grassy mounds that you can step on to get to the beach. After the mounds there's billions of perfectly smooth pebbles and rocks. Just past the rocks is sand with a thin layer of saltwater. You can walk out on the sand during low-tide, and as far as I've walked I've never reached high water. It's really quiet there and there's never a lot of people so its peaceful and private. It's my good place, I can think and be by myself in peace.
My good place is in my favorite easy chair reading. Some consider reading a dying art but I find it really calming. The is a particular passage in a book of short stories that always make me feel better even in my worst mood. It goes something like this. Imagine you are on a looking at a rainbow that has just appeared following the morning storm. In the harbor small ships rock gently aided by the gentle breeze. If you spent the night on one of these ships you would see the sun slip below the horizon in a beautiful array of colors. At night stars in various hues of yellow, silver, and blue would sparkle in the sky above you. As you watch the stars, one of a particular color catches your eye and you can’t help but focus on it. The light brings you a calm aura, its healing energy taking away all stress. This passage speaks to me because unlike most meditations which tell you to feel a certain way this one plays out a scene leaving the rest up to you imagination.
My room is not that clean and most of the time there are random things scattered about the floor as if they'd been dumped there carelessly. Books, papers, and school supplies litter the floor, only to be pushed against the wall instead of put away as they should be. One can find random bits of the past just by looking around the room, whether it is on the floor, where the occasional newsletter, or the parking pass from last year just waiting to be put into the box with all the other "reminders" that have piled up over the years. On the walls, one sees pictures; from when I used to be a Girl Scout, those times seem like so long ago. The diploma from my eighth grade "graduation" ceremony, a picture of my face with a drawn body and badger next to it; to even the piece of drift wood from summer camp with the year and date on it. Each item having it own story; each to be seen differently as if anything it was truly up to the viewer to decide what it really meant. Then there is the laptop table which was supposed to be used for working on, is cluttered with random objects; some earrings; Triaminic Cough Syrup; hair clips; deodorant and various other things, that just laying there, lifeless and untouched until someone comes searching for something. The room is always somehow much warmer than the rest of the house is, and even if it's chilly there is always something to put on to cover up and keep warm in, either a jacket, or another shirt. Clothes aren't hard to come by, look in the closet, in the floor, by the bed, on the bed, almost everywhere and you'll be able to find some sort of clothing either folded to be put away or to be worn to bed. Food is right where someone looking for a midnight snack would want it, in close proximity to the head of the bed. On the floor and table within arms
reach give or take a little stretching. Water bottles filled with
some water, and sometimes the odd soda bottle lying empty on the floor from a study session or afterschool snack. Lets not forget the fat and lazy cat that likes to sit next to someone who is working, then proceeds to take their place if they should happen to get up to pick something up, always there never leaving and quite obnoxious when trying to do something quickly. The laptop is always somewhere in the room either on the floor or on the end of the bed waiting to be used. The overall feeling of the room is well used and loved.
My room is not that clean and most of the time there are random things scattered about the floor as if they'd been dumped there carelessly. Books, papers, and school supplies litter the floor, only to be pushed against the wall instead of put away as they should be. One can find random bits of the past just by looking around the room, whether it is on the floor, where the occasional newsletter, or the parking pass from last year just waiting to be put into the box with all the other "reminders" that have piled up over the years. On the walls, one sees pictures; from when I used to be a Girl Scout, those times seem like so long ago. The diploma from my eighth grade "graduation" ceremony, a picture of my face with a drawn body and badger next to it; to even the piece of drift wood from summer camp with the year and date on it. Each item having it own story; each to be seen differently as if anything it was truly up to the viewer to decide what it really meant. Then there is the laptop table which was supposed to be used for working on, is cluttered with random objects; some earrings; Triaminic Cough Syrup; hair clips; deodorant and various other things, that just laying there, lifeless and untouched until someone comes searching for something. The room is always somehow much warmer than the rest of the house is, and even if it's chilly there is always something to put on to cover up and keep warm in, either a jacket, or another shirt. Clothes aren't hard to come by, look in the closet, in the floor, by the bed, on the bed, almost everywhere and you'll be able to find some sort of clothing either folded to be put away or to be worn to bed. Food is right where someone looking for a midnight snack would want it, in close proximity to the head of the bed. On the floor and table within arms
reach give or take a little stretching. Water bottles filled with
some water, and sometimes the odd soda bottle lying empty on the floor from a study session or afterschool snack. Lets not forget the fat and lazy cat that likes to sit next to someone who is working, then proceeds to take their place if they should happen to get up to pick something up, always there never leaving and quite obnoxious when trying to do something quickly. The laptop is always somewhere in the room either on the floor or on the end of the bed waiting to be used. The overall feeling of the room is well used and loved.
My room is not that clean and most of the time there are random things scattered about the floor as if they'd been dumped there carelessly. Books, papers, and school supplies litter the floor, only to be pushed against the wall instead of put away as they should be. One can find random bits of the past just by looking around the room, whether it is on the floor, where the occasional newsletter, or the parking pass from last year just waiting to be put into the box with all the other "reminders" that have piled up over the years. On the walls, one sees pictures; from when I used to be a Girl Scout, those times seem like so long ago. The diploma from my eighth grade "graduation" ceremony, a picture of my face with a drawn body and badger next to it; to even the piece of drift wood from summer camp with the year and date on it. Each item having it own story; each to be seen differently as if anything it was truly up to the viewer to decide what it really meant. Then there is the laptop table which was supposed to be used for working on, is cluttered with random objects; some earrings; Triaminic Cough Syrup; hair clips; deodorant and various other things, that just laying there, lifeless and untouched until someone comes searching for something. The room is always somehow much warmer than the rest of the house is, and even if it's chilly there is always something to put on to cover up and keep warm in, either a jacket, or another shirt. Clothes aren't hard to come by, look in the closet, in the floor, by the bed, on the bed, almost everywhere and you'll be able to find some sort of clothing either folded to be put away or to be worn to bed. Food is right where someone looking for a midnight snack would want it, in close proximity to the head of the bed. On the floor and table within arms
reach give or take a little stretching.
Water bottles filled with
some water, and sometimes the odd soda bottle lying empty on the floor from a study session or afterschool snack. Lets not forget the fat and lazy cat that likes to sit next to someone who is working, then proceeds to take their place if they should happen to get up to pick something up, always there never leaving and quite obnoxious when trying to do something quickly. The laptop is always somewhere in the room either on the floor or on the end of the bed waiting to be used. The overall feeling of the room is well used and loved.
The scent of cinnamon and pumpkin fills me with a sense of comfort. My Mom Mom’s house during the holiday season has the sweet scent of a bakery. As I look around searching for the pies I see a flicker of light coming from a pumpkin scented candle. The deceiving smell makes me laugh at the baking facade. My dad sits lazily on the couch flicking through channels like he knows what he is searching for. My mother insists on helping my Mom Mom while she swats her away as if she is a bee buzzing around her. My sisters and I sit around the set out food talking animatedly like sisters do only stopping to take a bite. My dad stops his search and chooses football. Typical. As we eat the noise does not stop there. Plates are being passed, people are eating, and people are chatting amongst themselves. The dog sits by waiting for a piece of chicken or even a pea to fall. He acts as a vacuum, cleaning up the food until there is no evidence of the missing food. After dinner a chorus of “thank yous” is said and we all depart to the living room where we then lounge around stuffed from the previous feast.
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