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Some people are a delight to be around, it's their cultivation of "positive vibes" and this takes a lot of effort and determination "to be nice."
Some people are a delight to be around, it’s their cultivation of “positive vibes” and this takes a lot of effort and determination “to be nice.”
Sometimes just to be nice, just to be good it is really damn hard, but the point is to try. I just do what I feel like doing, that’s it for me. I am not saying that leaving a stupidly high tip for your waitress at the diner just because it’s Tuesday, would fix things and make your blues go away forever. But perhaps it will help.
People who are seen as ‘nice’ are often interpreted as weak or passive. It’s possible that there are some passively nice people out there, but in my experience, most of the nicest people I know are stubborn, angry, articulate, active, wildly intelligent and deeply caring. It takes them, immense effort to be pleasant, helpful, useful and supportive. Sometimes they put in a lot of self-control, just for not saying “the mean thing” even though its easier for them. Its really hard to wield self-control, especially with a sharp tongue and for some of us it can be really damn hard but goddamn, we are trying.
Frankly most of us rarely face such compelling circumstances that aren’t of our creation. I am going to talk about myself here, as an illustrative example. Many of my friends are genuinely, quite fervent in their conviction that I am a good person. This is a result of many conscious decisions and the deliberate actions, I perform, as a person. Some of my friends are also aware of my other side. There is always, bound within, the capacity for mundane evils. These go unexpressed because I choose the other way. It is a slow lesson. I’ve always thought of it like a campfire. You can’t just toss some wood in a pit and make fire: it will fizzle out assuming it even starts. You have to nurture it, slowly feeding it more and more until it’s ready for the big logs. Then I have got a fire that will last.
Being good, I understood is the same way. You start with the small things, holding the door open for the person right after you (this is a big one, no one likes the door coming back rushing to their face), tidying up your own mess wherever you are, supporting your friend’s business. Then come the big ones: listening to someone’s troubles, not snapping back when someone insults you (this I have come a long way), smiling first when you accidentally, lock eyes with strangers. Like in the case of great fire, this kindling is necessary for great friendships, I am learning.
It all comes down to personal choice. Keeping away from negative vibes. Slowly, politely and then permanently,it has become my favorite game these days. This was a huge comfort to write and aah, I really needed it!
Image source: Pexels
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UP Boards Topper Prachi Nigam was trolled on social media for her facial hair; our obsession with appearance is harsh on young minds.
Prachi Nigam’s photo has been doing the rounds on social media for the right reasons. Well, scratch that- I wish the above statement were true. This 15-year-old girl should ideally be revelling in her spectacular achievement of scoring a whopping 98.05% and topping her tenth-grade boards. But oddly enough, along with her marks, it’s something else that garners more attention – her facial hair.
While the trolls are driving themselves giddy by mocking this girl who hasn’t even completed her school yet, the ones who are taking her side are going one step ahead – they are sharing her photoshopped pictures, sans the facial hair, looking nothing less than a celebrity with captions saying – “Prachi Nigam, ten years later”.
Doctors have already diagnosed her with PCOD in their comments, based on photographic evidence. While we have names for people shamed for their weight – body shaming, for their skin colour- racism, for their age- age shaming, for being a female- sexism, this category of shaming where one faces criticism for their appearance has no name. With that, it also has zero shame attached to it.
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