Each individual finds happiness, or has experienced happiness in many different ways. From the smallest things to the most life changing moments people feel happy.
For me I find happiness in the Ocean and the Forest, my family’s love, and in my friends laughter.
I encourage you to think about what makes you happy, big or small.
Special Thanks to all of the anonymous contributors that made this list of happiness possible.
Image Found on WordPress and created by Dr.Autumn W. Farr
The beach houses that my mother would find always seemed so big to my four-year-old perspective.
With a staircase that I remember to be spiraling and
a brown and cream-colored chess board in the middle of a large living room
which was later to be covered in wrapping paper is what this house seemed like to me at the time.
My mother was always frantically scurrying around the house to make sure everything was perfect for my grandmother,
meanwhile, she didn’t mind the imperfections but simply didn’t have the power to say anything.
The uncles were catching up as the oldest was in Chicago and the youngest was living his life in Australia.
My brother, was playing with his GameBoy,
eyes locked to the screen.
My grandfather was looking at the beams and the ceilings to find some reason why the house wasn’t architecturally perfect in his eyes.
And then there was me, either in the corner or on the couch next to my grandmother, where I would play with my Polly Pockets being relatively quiet.
/ / /
I do not remember a lot at the houses except for the people and the feelings surrounding the time.
The presents and all the other material items around me did not matter, especially because I knew the reality of the grandmother’s illness and how she had limited time here on earth with me.
I do remember the smell of the house,
a mixture of palm trees,
salty ocean mist, and
the sand that has been carried many miles,
just for me to feel that unforgettable warmth between my toes.
I also reminisce about her during the holiday season. She wore fuzzy socks. I still have a worn out, baby pink pair of her socks stuffed in the back of my drawers.
From cuddling on the couch, with the chaos of my family
to being on the beach, with the rolling waves and the roaring wind,
“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”
Maya Angelou, All God’s Children Need Traveling Shoes
From the smell of fresh baked goods always circulating the house to the comfort of a warm bed, the idea of home sparks warmth and happiness, and I have been so lucky to consider my home in that way.
The white door that creeks and the roof that leaks is where I find home currently, but I have a vision of where I want to be or see myself once I have finished growing up.
Being a mix of all cultures, the Philippines in itself represents me. Living in a higaonon hut on one of the several islands, I would devour salty chicken adobo and lumpia.
Settling into my home, I would write in my journal about the culture that I experienced that day while looking out from my hut into the orange sunset reflecting off the ocean.
With beams of warm colors bouncing off the water, I would feel my late grandmother and her mother, wrapping their arms around me with their soft, delicate arms. Eventually, I will feel a sense of comfort and understanding of my surrounding culture.
Living the simple life and knowing my roots, I would sense closure and be able to flee to my new home in San Fransisco, California.
Even though I was not born there, my roots are in California and more specifically, San Francisco. Like my little Filipino grandmother, I would come from the Philippines and go to the Golden City.
My fate would bring me to the perfect two bedrooms and bathroom apartment on the seventh floor having an auburn red door. Decorated with poems written by my father, my apartment would have the smell of essential oils embedded into the walls, specifically lavender representing my mother’s spirituality.
This would be my sanctuary where tears would be shed, laughs would explode, and love would be felt.
The Mission district, where my brother was born, would give light to the art forward theme that I created in all the rooms but made sure that every area had its own distinctive flair.
Wanting to explore more about my culture and ancestors, I would travel to the plains of Africa. Settling down in Nairobi, Kenya, where the lifestyle is filled with the history of the Bantu people and the Swahili language, my home would be in a Kikuyu house with no rooms.
Compared to my other homes, I would be connected with the earth where elephants and antelopes have carried their children on their migratory voyage.
This home would give me insight to my African heritage before Europeans came into their territory, before slavery, and before segregation. Instead of learning about the hardships of my culture, I will learn about the rich tradition that the country brings.
I have always been a homebody. I find extreme comfort with the idea of my home and enjoy its atmosphere. I am excited to see where my future home may be.
but, we both know deep down that we will most likely never be fully okay.
i ask myself all the time… what could i have done better?
how could i have helped you, made you see what i saw in you?
you sat on the edge for a while, staring over the ledge at the busy freeway. i stood starring at you from below, sobbing.
in your mind, there was nothing to live for, nothing worth living for.
live for me, i thought. live for me. please live for me.
it’s selfish, but i needed you, in all honesty, i still do.
i loved you then, i love you now.
you didn’t jump because you knew that if you did, it wouldn’t kill you. you’d survive the fall and, when you woke up, you’d be sent to a place far worse than the center we were at.
i lived with you for two months in a residential treatment center for eating disorders until we were both discharged.
we suffered together, we cried together, but we laughed together too.
we’d talk in spanish complaining about the staff, we’d talk about boys, we’d talk about all the things we’d do once we got out of center for discovery (the treatment center we were at), and all things we would do together.
at the center, all sharp objects, from knives to pen caps, are locked in a cabinet which only the staff has a key too.
i remember that one night in our room. i heard a noise coming from your side of the room.
the staff who watches us at night had fallen asleep and someone had forgotten to lock away a pen cap.
you lay in bed, a broken pen cap in your hand, and blood on your wrists.
i ran to you and tried to take away the cap. you pushed me away, i lunged at you again and took it.
i grabbed your arms and forced them around me. you sobbed, begging for the cap. i could almost hear you internally begging to me, “end this please, end me please.”
you kept on saying please in between sobs. over and over again: “please.”
“shhh,” i whispered crying. “shhh”.
you were seventeen at the time, i was thirteen.
i was a ninety-pound, anorexic, thirteen-year-old girl living in a metal hospital.
you were a bulimic, suicidal, seventeen-year-old girl living in a mental hospital.
i held you for what felt like hours, i hugged you until you stopped crying.
you’re nineteen.
i don’t see you much anymore, we talk sometimes though.
you were sent back to the center twice because you relapsed.
you seem better now though, you seem happy now, but i worry a lot.
Photo Credit: peakviewbh.com
you’re nineteen. if you go back to your old ways, you’re parents can’t legally force you back to the center, you’re an adult.
if you wanted to, you can find a bigger ledge, one that could end it all.
i can’t protect you anymore, i’m not there to grab the pen cap.
you are happy now, but we both know how fast things can change.
i hope you stay happy forever. please stay happy forever.
if you are ever sad, please tell me.
thirteen years old in a treatment center, fifteen years old in my room writing this, twenty years old wherever i’ll be then, no matter what age or what place, i will always be here to hold you.
I recently picked up a pair of Nike Roshe Runs, a purchase I have been contemplating for a very long time, and I think I have come across one of the most comfortable sneakers of all time.
These things are like clouds for your feet. It isn’t even funny. I have a hard time taking them off. I got them in black and white, a color combination that has been notoriously hard to find, for the relatively cheap price of $50.
For that price they are really worth it and more. I will be getting more in the future.
And yes they come in a multitude of colors and materials.
As a kid, we all have that one thing that brings us comfort. Sometimes it’s a blanket, or a stuffed animal, or even a lullaby sung every night by your mother. We all have that safety blanket we run to whenever things get tough. For some, the teddy might stick around a little longer than […]
Ever since Nike started making endurance running sneakers they have been searching for a show with support that fits like a sock.
This latest development was one of pure genius. stemming from the “innovation kitchen” at Nike headquarters he has created a way of manufacturing that revolutionizes running, style, and production.
This product is Flyknit. Created with design genius Hiroshi Fujiwara, legendary designer Tinker Hatfield and CEO Mark Parker, Flyknit utilizes cords of synthetic yarn woven into the shape of a shoe. This technique allowed the designers to map the floor and create a running shoe that provides support exactly where one needs it.
This technology is not only good for runners and athletes, but the industry as a whole. The possibility of being able to walk into a store and have a shoe woven to perfectly match the foot of the customer is something the industry has been pursuing for a long time.
The process is used to create a shoe made from TWO pieces. Most sneakers are made from upwards of twenty. This feat is unprecedented and has changed the idea of production as we know it.
The simple production eliminates the need for the use of cheap labor in China and Vietnam and allows production to be pushed back into America.
The shoe has changed the way we think about style, production, and what we think a shoe can be.
Wearing it for the past month has made it my favorite pair of sneakers, and showed me something I had never seen before. A shoe that fits like a sock.
In this blog, I am going to write about love. Yes, I’m sure many of those who are reading this article will know personally who it is that I will be writing about. Some may think it’s silly but, hey, a blog is supposed to be a place where you share your emotions and feelings on certain topics right?
Well, there is this special person in my life right now and his name is Kai Emilio Littlefield. He is bit over a head taller than I am with thick dark hair, the nicest brown eyes, and a handsome smile. I started to like him towards the end of my freshman year. He asked me out on April 29, 2009 on a bus and we have been dating ever since.
In the beginning, I was at that stage where I was nervous to be on the same campus as he was, knowing that I would run into him sooner or later. I still remember the first time he held my hand and-God forbid I say this on the OVS journalism blog-our first kiss. I didn’t know it then, but I was falling in love with him.
Today, almost one year and seven months later, he has become one of my closest friends, my prince, and the happiest part of my day. Sure, we have had our ups and downs before but at the end of the day, our relationship only grows stronger and I love him that much more.
Kai is very quirky sometimes. But that’s why I love him so much. He doesn’t know it, but he knows how to make me smile and he makes a bad day so much better. His voice, his smile, his eyes, and his hugs put a smile on my face. The way he trips over his words sometimes when he gets excited is just the cutest thing. The nervousness that plagued me when we first started dating is now replaced with total comfort. That doesn’t mean I love him less-in fact, it means the complete opposite. It just means that what I feel for him isn’t just puppy love.
For me, the saddest day, I know, will be the day he graduates. The first semester is already coming to an end and the second semester is just around the corner. Soon enough, it will be graduation day, and I will see him, as well as my beloved friends, walk down that cobblestone stage. It will be the worst feeling knowing that I wouldn’t be able to see his smile everyday like I can now. But until then, I’ll just continue to fall more and more in love with his laugh and his smile. I guess this is a shout out to you Kai for being the best boyfriend (even though I know you will never be able to read this because you don’t have WordPress). I love you so much Kai!
Ah! Spiders! These are just one of the many things that scare the heck out of me. The way they walk, with their slow intimidating prowl. Their black hairy bodies, and their small, freaky, eyes. I hate to be scared of something so small, but come on, have you even seen a tarantula? An elementary school in San Diego has just been infested with Black Widows. I pity those poor people. Apparently, one third of all classrooms were infested. If I went there, oh God, I wouldn’t just leave the school I would leave the city.
But apart from spiders, I have one other big fear: heights. Planes are the worst. I know that I’m perfectly safe in a plane, and that I’m not going to crash. But come on, like a 700,000 lbs. metal tube should stay in the air. The most scared I have ever been is when I’m in turbulence on a plane, and when I was on a gondola in Japan. Gondolas are the stupidest things. Who wants to be suspended way above the ground, hanging from a thin wire? I know that I don’t. My comfort zone ends at about 3 feet off the ground.
OVS Journalism Blog 
