a simple essay
Oct20
Simply Nice
When I think about myself, I’m a regular Joe. My friends think
otherwise, and between those in Miami and those in the cold north
known as Canada, the consensus is that I am the nice red haired guy.
When I think on this, it makes sense. Not too many people, and even
fewer males, have red hair, so it something that stands out and
proclaims me. It is also something that if it ever changed, my friends
would think that the fiery pits of hell are frozen. Fortunately for
hell, that’s something that won’t be changing any time soon. Like the
other trait my friends think of, because it is something which I try
not to change; I try to be nice.
Being nice is a thing I do everyday; I do it from the time I wake
up to the time I go to sleep (and sometimes in between). But what
exactly do I do to be nice or caring? I help out. No, I am not a
superhero, flying around looking for disasters or accidents to help
others in serious need (though I would if I could); rather, I am the
person who held the door open when the rain became a storm. It’s those
little things that I like to help with, because if it was you running
in from the rain with heavy loads in your hands and feeling rather
angered that you got caught by mother nature; you actually would feel
lucky and rather happy that someone kept that door open. Making someone
feel better is why I open doors, why I help and give my time to others,
why when asked I am glad to give, why every time I visit my sister she
uses me for labor to help her relocate. I do it to see that smile when
it’s all done and see that happy face; knowing my part put it there.
Compliments also lead to smiles, and because I am a nice person
smiles are something I always try for. Compliments work best when the
person receiving them is having a depressed moment, so that when they
are given, it replenishes someone’s energy and lightens up their mood.
Of course there are different types, of my favorites is that which
makes laughter and doesn’t quite fit for the dictionary definition of
compliment, they are also the ones I’m probably known for. Let me
explain, in a situation that is be boring, or when most people are
tired out, I make it my obligation to lighten the mood by doing, or
saying rather strange things, from dancing strangely to some tune from
some speakers to making a rather lame joke. Friends see such antics
from me, for I use many inside jokes (or for that matter jokes that
are so strange any one would believe that I belong in a nut house).
Though I use many types of compliments, true compliments - or those
mentioning someone’s attitude to life, or their physical
characteristics that are beautiful, or even deprecating myself so that
others may see they are not only not alone, but in fact far better off
then others - are those that work, and lead to my goal of a happier
person.
There are times, however, that compliments don’t do enough. There
are days like St. Valentines, which make those who are alone feel like
no one else cares, are a good example. Compliments don’t work well when
there are many people instead of just one or two needing some cheering
up, and so I bring out the cavalry, or rather a tank brigade. The only
way I have found to combat depression in a massive scale are cookies
and cake. It started in 9th grade, when it came into my mind that
others would probably hate having to admit that no one cared enough to
give them candy or a valentine (that, and I was hoping it might help
with asking this one girl out). So, the night before I labored hard to
make the perfect cake and cookies, heading off to sleep only until
after I was satisfied they where good enough. The next day I surprised
my classmates and those who felt forgotten with a piece of cake and a
cookie. I was thanked and adored for my baking skills (I admit it, it
was easy-bake cake), but I knew my baking had worked when I saw the
smiles and received some hugs as I gave out cake (however my shyness
won over when it came time to ask that certain girl).
Though seeing the smiles and feeling the hugs of many, having a
one-to-one experience with someone is equally as great. I do this
often; I listen. When you listen to someone, when they tell you
something important to them, they reveal a part of themselves to you.
People like to talk; we talk about anything from our work to our
school, but we talk about how it relates to us. So, when others listen
as we talk away about ourselves being selfish, we feel great that
others are patient enough to listen to us. That’s why when I listen I
know I’m making that other person feel special. On my summer vacation,
I went to visit my sister. To take in more money she started renting
her room out to a boarder. He is a retiree and has been working as a
contractor for the government for some time now. I spent many hours a
day talking with him, though I was a listener more then a talker. Both
he and I enjoyed those hours. He talked about many things, from trips
he had taken to his kids and current events; he always had a story to
tell. I knew he liked it when I listened; having the house empty during
the day while my sister and her husband were at work is a lonely
feeling, and having someone to talk with when taking a break was
something nice for him for he never stopped talking. He mentioned this
to me many times, and I was flattered. I loved to hear him talk about
himself because I knew he felt better afterwards.
My everyday goal is to make others feel better. I have come to the
conclusion that this is what it means to be nice, making others feel
better. So, it is this that I strive for, and it has become my passion.
Be it friend or stranger I will help out; I will listen, and I will
make sure you feel better because I care about people. I care that we
should be happy, or at least feel good about ourselves. With a changing
world and a place filled with chaos, I am happy that I take to heart
that I care for others, because though some go half way, we are never
there for each other like we should be. I know nice guys finish last,
but I am content that I help others finish first.