The Choice: Being Happy

There’s this kid at my school I used to hate. He mostly fulfilled the stereotype that comes with being openly gay; he was flamboyant, would always dress nicely, and absolutely adored theatre. I didn’t hate him because he was gay. In fact, my negative feelings towards him showed up only when I began to question my own sexuality (more on that later). I didn’t know where my dislike for him came from, especially if I was thinking I might be able to relate to him in a way most people couldn’t. After a few weeks I finally figured it out: He was happy.

See, it wasn’t even him or anything he was doing that upset me. He was a happy, confident go-getter that knew what he wanted, and, for whatever reason, I hated him for it. It didn’t matter what his sexuality was or what he wore. Disgusted with my feelings (How could I hate this boy? There was nothing wrong with him!), I tried to explain them. I ruled out jealousy, and came to a conclusion I didn’t want to admit. I couldn’t like him because I couldn’t like myself.

It all seemed so stupid. What was so wrong with me that I couldn’t make myself happy? The surprisingly simple answer was nothing. There was nothing inherently wrong with me; the only problem was that I allowed myself to inhibit my own happiness.

Wow.

This shocked me. I thought I did everything right: I got great grades, took care of myself, and spent an awful lot of time trying to please people. But what are good grades if you don’t celebrate them? How can you take care of yourself without taking time to make sure you’re happy and enjoying your life? Why can’t you be pleased, too? I asked myself these questions and realized that I could do what others expected of me, thought was “right,” and make others happy, or I could do what I wanted for myself and make myself happy. The choice was that simple.

I vowed to make my own happiness a priority. Once I started making small changes I noticed that I began to hate this boy less, and the less I hated him the more like him I became. No, I didn’t dress like him or act like him, but I was similar to him in that I was more confident in myself, more aware of myself, and excited to be myself. Simply put, I was happy, and I’m getting happier all the time. No more do I see someone joyful and lash out––I share the happiness, get inspired by it.

For anyone out there who feels like I did, please realize that a big part of happiness is making a choice. Don’t wait for reasons to be happy. Find them in yourself. A part of growing up is finding your identity, something I thought I had to have clearly defined in my head before I could be happy. There is a magic about the process, though, the journey. Celebrate it. You may find it brings you closer to your goal, or you might realize you were there all along.

Stay happy.

Noise noise noise noise stop.

Beat

Pause

Stutter

Glance

Beat

Stare

Pause

Stutter

Noise

If actions speak louder than words, what does the conscious action of choosing not to speak mean?

Fellow students, few of us would elect to examine the topic of physical education, but since my enrollment in the course I have been forced to grapple with the idea of it.  Some would argue that a physical education credit is pointless.  Here is my take on gym class in schools.

If, by physical education, you mean the unsanitary locker room experience, the athlete’s foot-infested showers, the horror of seeing classmates at their heavy-breathing, sweaty, worst; if you mean the traditional bullies’ recess full of rogue dodgeballs and lost underwear; if you mean the feeling of being picked last and getting out first; if you mean the tortuous ordeal of playing mindless games while the thought of that night’s homework eats away at you, the paranoid sense that you are wasting your time––then I am certain that physical education is not only superfluous but cruel.

But if, when you say physical education, you mean the exciting rush of adrenaline, the electric feel of synergy, or passion for a sport; if you mean becoming a humble winner and an accepting loser; if you mean fighting childhood obesity and building the foundation for a healthy, active, lifestyle; if you mean the opportunity to make new friends, get away from the stressors of academic classes, and a no-homework guarantee––then every student should have the opportunity to experience P.E.

This is my view, and I will remain adamant in it.

Just in case you don’t remember me, I’m Tom and this is MuseSpark!  I apologize for my LONG absence; it was a long summer and, so far, it has been a long and hard school year.  BUT, it’s time for another “I promise I’m not dead” post.  I at least owe you that, and an update on what’s going on with me.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading and writing lately, however, my reading is mostly of textbooks and my writing for the past months has consisted almost exclusively of nonfiction essays and lab reports.  Therefore, not too much happening on MuseSpark, or anywhere other than school, for that matter.  On the plus side, I feel that I’ve done a lot of growing up since I last posted here.  I am a more confident, happy individual who isn’t afraid to share his opinion with the world.  That’s why I’m back again, so I can continue to express myself––the new me––as I have in the past.

Thank you to anyone who was concerned about where I was!  You’ll certainly be hearing from me more than you have been lately!  Thanks for sticking with me.

Tom.

(3/25)   Whispers in the wind

Tales of the past spinning about

Etched in the leaves

(3/22)   Unable to reach out

Taking a plunge from the sky

Nest crashes down

(3/12)   Like lightning in the air

Galloping against the wind

Run forever

(2/7)   Lonely atmosphere

Asleep for the afternoon

Buzzing quietly

(1/9)   Wading through the thorns

Refuse to release their hold

Prickly old friends

(1/3)   Away away now

Warmth disappears in colors of fire

Horizon

(12/30)   A willow tree

Mourns the loss of her greenery

Beauty dead and gone

As I scrolled through the extensive collection of poems that I accumulated over the months, I noticed some key points.  Most of them relate somehow to nature, like traditional haiku.  I remember some days struggling to come up with some new element of nature I hadn’t used yet…some of the haiku were rough, to say the least.  However, they got significantly better through time.  Even though I don’t do HOD anymore, I’m pleased to say that it helped my grow as a writer and poet.  To those who supported me while I was doing this, thank you so much!  I really appreciate it.  These days I keep moving forward with new plans, but who knows?  Maybe I’ll revisit HOD for a time in the future!

I know public school is great because there aren’t uniforms, however that doesn’t mean you can wear pajamas to school. I’m sorry, but that is pushing it too far.

High school culture is lazy enough (I already watch people trudge through the morning classes with their eyes half-closed, clinging to their coffee for dear life); I don’t want to see another person walk through the door wearing sweatpants, yoga pants, pajama pants, or slippers ever again. That’s right. People wear slippers to school.

In my opinion, not only is dressing so “down” a sign of disrespect to teachers and the general learning community, it reflects poorly on the students dressed that way. The pajama look gives off vibes of sloth and a sense that you don’t care about anything (appearance included!)

This changes everything.

I’m usually pretty tolerant of people’s style choices, but this was really irking me lately. Thanks for letting me ramble for a while.

~¡Adios!

I drove by myself for the first time a few days after I got my license. I didn’t really need to go anywhere, I was just itching to go SOMEWHERE. I drove through some of the streets near my neighborhood, then ventured out a little further.

There’s a huge hill near the end of my street. I went down it, with extra caution because there was still some snow on the ground. I rounded the corner––radio on, endorphins pumping from the thrill of the hill and the rush of my first drive––when a little white puppy (barely visible against the blanket of snow) ran across the street. Thankfully, I saw it in time to stop and allow it to scuttle to the other side.

The dog was absolutely adorable; I don’t know what I would have done had I hit it. That experience taught me to be a more observant driver. Now, whenever I drive, I think of a little white puppy around every turn.

Godzilla, the giant lizard-monster famous for terrorizing Japan, has survived in media for over 50 years and continues to be an icon of Japanese culture.  Since Godzilla’s not-so-humble beginning in the 1954 film “Gojira” (the Japanese name for Godzilla), the monster has been in movies set in several countries––each time used to allegorically showcase their fears.  Today Godzilla (and other giant monsters that spawned from the original’s success such as Mothra, Rodan, and King Ghidorah) is known worldwide, but the spirit of Godzilla and the monster genre it created remain purely Japanese.
The behemoth originally represented the threat of nuclear war in the wake of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  The United States swiftly created a Godzilla film of its own, disregarding the original plot, but nonetheless Godzilla became popular in America.  Godzilla’s American popularity continued as other monsters swept through Japanese cinema: Movies like “King Kong vs Godzilla,” “Mothra vs Godzilla,” and “Godzilla vs the Thing” introduced new monsters that turned Godzilla into somewhat of a hero.  Instead of being a metaphor for Japanese fears, the monster itself began defending the nation from terrorists, pollution, invading aliens, and their giant monster representations.  To the observer, the change of Godzilla’s role in the movies shows that it had been completely absorbed and became a true icon.
As much as Americans ate up the Godzilla franchise, the concept is completely Japanese.  Japan produced something successful because everyone could relate to it.  In 1954 the threat of nuclear war was very real for Japan, and other countries had fears of their own.  Whether it’s demolishing the Tokyo Tower or crushing waves of U.S. troops, Godzilla is the embodiment of fear on a national level.  Japan’s interpretation of that fear gave the nation massive amounts of soft power as Godzilla infiltrated the movie theaters around the world.  The influence the monster had––its movies, action figures, collectables––was so immense that the original film spawned more than 20 sequels, companions, and spin-offs.  Though Godzilla may have lost its original metaphor for nuclear war, it exists today as a slate to which any fear could be applied, and an international icon that preserves an important piece of Japanese history.

You may have noticed I’ve been “absent” for quite a while now.  Please accept my apologies and rest assured that I’ll make up the few posts for postaweek that I missed.  In fact, I’m posting one later today!  My life has just been very hectic and demanding, ergo, blogging wasn’t as big a priority as it has been in the past.  Well, I’m doing my best to get back on track!

I’m going to try something…I’m overjoyed that MuseSpark is starting to build up a bit of an audience!  So, for those of you that have been supporting me by reading and commenting, thank you so much!  I’ve been hesitant to do this out of fear that I’d get no responses, but I’m going to poll you––What would you like to see more of on this blog?  (Perhaps in the future I’ll create real WordPress polls, but I’ll see how this goes first.)

Leave a comment with anything you have to say; I’ll take it all!

Wow.  I sound like an annoying YouTuber.  Ick.

I hope everyone is well!