Bathroom - My Favorite Room

During my junior year of high school, I moved homes and got my own bathroom. For a sixteen-year-old, this is second best to getting your own car. I was elated. I would no longer have to worry about my brothers taking candid photos of me on the toilet and sending them to family and friends. Those days were gone. I soon discovered, though, that the bathroom was a special place for me.

No, I didn’t turn my bathroom into a bachelor pad or a man cave. I instead developed a liking for my bathroom because of its ulterior meaning to me. The bathroom became a place for me to unwind, to have Jared time. It’s where I can process my day, Skype a long-distance friend, or just clear my mind. With my far from enjoyable digestive issues, my fondness of the bathroom is certainly questionable. Nevertheless, the bathroom provides me with time to myself. After a busy day of school, meetings, sports, play rehearsal, voice lessons, and homework, I go to the bathroom and I take some time to just slow down.

My bathroom does not have any windows. While some may view this as a ventilation concern, it actually makes my escape much more vivid. I live in a small rural community where a boy becomes a man when he buys a snowmobile; where hunting, fishing, and mudding are practically the high school sports; and where school closes for two weeks for potato harvest. And though I am not a vice-presidential candidate, it’s also vital to mention that I can see Canada from my house. This town’s rich French culture and close-knit community has truly benefited my upbringing and impacted my character. Though I’m grateful to have grown up here, the community has limited me in many ways. With passions such as the arts, education, and volunteerism, I tend to stick out like a sore thumb. Going to the bathroom and not having windows to see where I really am helps me imagine where and what I could be. With so many of my peers not planning on going to college, not leaving this area, and not pursuing their true passions, I occasionally fear that my dreams will become only a fantasy instead of an attainable objective. But with a map of our world hanging proudly on the wall, my windowless bathroom stimulates my inner dreamer. Though at times I may feel trapped, small, or limited, my bathroom supports me and all that I can become.

I play a lot of music in the bathroom. From classical to Indie rock, you’re bound to find me singing something. Furthermore, while brushing my teeth I’ll do a plie and practice my ballet positions. Yes, I like to dance. In fact, I’ve been dancing for years even though being the only boy in dance class in this small town has been quite difficult. I was constantly teased and tormented. My bathroom is like my safehaven. I can sing and dance and no one will laugh. It’s true: my bathroom allows me to freely express myself.

Some of my best work hails from my bathroom. I’ve watched TED talks and have felt inspired to make change. I’ve sent emails and organized service projects. I’ve practiced a French speech in front of my mirror and I’ve rehearsed audition songs as if I’m in a recording studio. The person I am today and my list of accomplishments would be very different if it were not for my discovery of the bathroom. Though I’ve been using one for nearly my whole life, I never realized the importance of my time spent there. Without time to unwind, to think, and to discover myself, I wouldn’t have the confidence to be the person I know I am. I am Jared Michaud and I respectfully submit this essay from my bathroom.