Seniors Journal #2: Your Good Place
POST BEFORE WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 12
I'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." Getting a raise might put you in a "figurative good place," but watching football all Sunday afternoon and evening on your couch in your Mancave is a "real good place."
Which leads me to this blog's question: Where's your "good place?"
You SHOULD answer VERY literally and specifically, sparing no expense of travel. The place must exist.
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, getting big in the weight room, or just "chewing the fat" with your friends. Take me on an easy five mile jog in White Clay Creek Park 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. If you like, 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, for this assignment 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?