Boxes of Chocolates and Coconut Milk: An Essay for a Student from his English Teacher

Today's post is inspired by one of my honor's students.  He wrote a very sorry attempt at an essay.  When I challenged him about it, he challenged me right back.  He said that it is not possible to write a lot about such topics as responsibility or honesty or other good character traits.  I said that I could write about absolutely any topic he gave me.  He said "Okay.  Coconut juice."  Here is my essay.  Enjoy.

Forrest Gump is known for coining the phrase “Life is like a box of chocolates- you never know what you’re gonna get.”  However, life is more than that.  It is not made up of a melted candy shell, easy to tap into.  Instead one must work hard to attain the richness that is at the center of life.  It is instead more like a coconut with its hardened outer shell and rough exterior.  In order to achieve the greater things in life, sincere effort must be put forth because life doesn’t come easily.  You may not “know what you are going to get,” but building good character will give you the tools to access the finer parts of life and prepare you for the bumpy road ahead.

     To continue the analogy further, imagine the durable casing of the coconut shell.  This fruit drops from the tallest of trees and cannot be easily broken.  Attempts to ungracefully bash it in will only prove to be frustrating, even to the strongest of people.  It is not something that can be forced.  It is only through time, patience, and perseverance that one can gain access to the meat inside.  Like life, people learn from the mistakes of their rushed and ill-guided attempts at avoiding responsibility and from the hard work that is the epitome of life.  These things cannot be rushed and mature over time.

     When a person finally does crack open a coconut, the inside is pretty standard.  You do know what you are going to get:  meat and coconut juice- the internal essence of the fruit.  The rich and vibrant purity and the sweetness of the juice make all the effort worth the prized ending.  In life the struggles and hurdles are not a wasted effort.  The ends justify the means in that in order to truly understand, enjoy, and cherish the treasures in life, one must trudge through the time-consuming lessons, harsh criticisms, and otherwise strenuous character-building mechanisms that will eventually mold and define a person’s better nature.

      Chocolate easily melts under the slightest rise in temperature, but troubles are not disintegrated so simply.  One cannot predict the future, but being armed with the lessons of life and good character helps negate the ill-effects of an unpredictable world.  It is also necessary to note that these lessons do not come easily otherwise they would not be worth the trouble put into them, but the rewards earned for obtaining wisdom, responsibility, respect, patience, and all of the other positive character traits in life are well worth the work to obtain them.

I will be turning my essay into him tomorrow.

The Smaller Things in Life

Being short is amazing.  Seriously.  Amazing. (A short intro for a short topic)


Ever since I was a little kid, I have always been small.  When picture time came around, I was usually first or second in line.  I was great at hide-and-go-seek because I could fit into the tiniest of places (even behind a toilet once but let's save that adventure for another time).  And my parents helped me adapt to my height by providing objects around the house for me to stand on to reach cabinets, and all of our light switches had these long handled attachments that I could pull down on to turn the lights off.  When we went to movies, my mother always had to bring her giant purse because the theater seats would try to close me up inside.  I was an excellent climber because, let's face it, all of the cool things in life are up on shelves.  And if I fell down while I was running, I never broke a bone because I didn't have that far to fall.  


Nowadays I don't really feel like a short person.  I teach high school freshmen and most of them are taller than me, but that doesn't feel weird to me because everyone is usually taller than me.  It really dawned on me the other day when, of all things, I was checking the height and weight requirements for Kangaroo Jac's bouncy house warehouse and it said "10 years old or 60 inches."  I'm 61 inches... I am the approximate size of a ten-year-old.  This explains why when we have a new security guard at my school, I get asked for my hall pass and teachers cut me in the lunch line.


But back to why being short is so great.  First, buying pants is easy.  When I try them on at the store, it looks like I'm melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.  But then I get them hemmed.  End of story.  Tall people, as you have probably already realized, your problem with pants is that they are always too short.  You have to always make sure you are wearing matching socks because those puppies are going to be seen by everyone every time you sit down.  I can always make my pants shorter, but what are you going to do about your high waters?  Add fabric?  I think not.  In addition, I can buy normal capri pants at those end-of-summer sales and get them super cheap.  No need to hem those bad boys because normal capris are instant pants for me.


I have also concluded it is easier for me to lose weight.  For one, I have already mentioned my wonderful climbing skills.  The bottom kitchen shelf is as high as I can reach tippy-toed before I have to monkey climb my way up the cabinet facing.  In addition, I have to take two to three steps for your every one step just to keep pace with you.  Now that's what I call power walking.


As one who is vertically challenged according to the politically correct, I am closer to the ground.  Obvious, you say?  Well, this has its benefits.  I find a lot of money on the ground- a hundred bucks one time!  This also means I never have to duck for anything.  While you tall people are up there getting concussions, I'm living the easy life walking with my head held high, as high as your waist.


I've heard all the jokes about being short.  I've had people ask me if I can see their boogers.  They get me to tie their shoes because I'm closer to their feet.  You cloud sniffers like to sit in front of me in theaters.  At hotels, the sizably tall guests always leave their shower heads at such a height that, though perfectly centered on their body, drowns me when I turn on the water (and understand, I am too short to reach up and move it out of my face and there's no climbing in the shower).  They ask me if I can see over the steering wheel and if I can touch the pedals (without the use of a phone book, I might add).  I'm always the last to know when it's raining and the first to smell your farts.  So go ahead with your little quips about my shortness.  I am proud of my 61 inches and life is too "short" to worry about the "little" things.

Girlie Logic on Driving

I'm driving home tonight on the interstate when a cop zooms around me and starts riding the bumper of the car in the next lane.  I'm thinking to myself, "This poor guy is about to be pulled over" when the cop car continues to ride their bumper and then finally gives up and zooms around him.  This little scene really got my panties in a bundle.  I've got three speeding tickets under my belt right now (currently awaiting my court date for the third one) and the hypocrisy of the police officer has inspired this posting.


How roadways should be according to me:
First, stop signs should be a suggestion.  If I can see that there is no one coming, I should be able to keep on going.  I do not want my car to get hit, so I promise I will stop if you are coming towards my vehicle.
Second, it is impossible for my car to go the speed limit.  Therefore, speed limits should be for those who feel the need to be limited.  In my world, the idea of speed limits should be assigned to different lanes of the road.  For example, on a four lane highway, the right lane can go 55, the second lane can go 60, the third lane can go 65, and the left lane can do whatever it wants.  This lane is reserved for the limitless.
Third, there should ALWAYS be a right turn lane, just for the sake of turning.  I hate it when I'm sitting there, second in the lane to turn right, and the person in front of me wants to go straight.  Dude, you are constipating my flow of traffic.  Be courteous and move over a lane.
Fourth, why is there a need for slower speeds in neighborhoods?  Kids don't play outside anymore.  They are playing video games or texting and doing other non-creative things.  And if a child perhaps actually goes outside due to, I don't know, a power outage, I would see said child and dodge him.  After all, I'm old enough that I played dodge ball as a child, so I'm pretty good at it.
Fifth, related to the fourth, cars should not have to stop for pedestrians.  You are slow and I am in a hurry or distracted.  You should be the one paying attention, you fragile human being with your lack of air bags and safety features.  Me passing you by is not going to take nearly as long as me waiting for you to cross the road.  My car trumps you in every way.


Drive safely everyone during this holiday season and please, whatever you do, do NOT drink and drive.  Mwah.

The Over-commercialization of Christmas

One reason my boyfriend hates Christmas so much is because he feels it is too over-commercialized.  It is for this exact reason that I love it so much.


I find it very ironic that it is not politically correct to wish people a Merry Christmas.  I took a poll the other day that stated that out of the several thousand people who answered it, 90% of them celebrated Christmas.  So we Christmas celebrators are the clear majority.  And I would not be hot and bothered if someone wished me a Happy Hanukkah.  I would wish them a Merry Christmas right back.  Lately, when someone wishes me a Merry Christmas, they look sheepish.  If you are going to say it, boom it out like Scrooge after he's been spiritually visited.


Now, on to why I love Christmas.  It is the time of year where we get to share so many things with others.  We all sit, watching the Weather Channel with hopes of a white Christmas while the romanticized idea of snuggling by a fire with a loved one is deeply nestled in our heads.  It is the time of year where we can plan on avoiding any area near a mall because we know there's no way in flying poo we will ever get through the traffic.  It is the time of year where copious amounts of cookies and sweets make their way into our belly, and the soft angelic songs of Snoopy's gang ring in our ears and Hershey Kisses play a jingle jangle little tune on TV.  Everything seems to come together at this point in a celebratory Hoorah!  The end of the year is here and we've made it through another one.


However, for me, nothing else about Christmas beats the light displays.  It is the only place where penguins and polar bears can frolic freely, the only place where Jesus and Santa get along, and the only place where tacky is acceptable.  There is something peaceful about falling asleep to the gentle movement and hum of those tiny lights coming through my window at night, shining brighter than the moonbeams and stars and the Virginia Power streetlight.


My fondest memories are of the arguments between my parents:  will this year be colored lights or traditional white?  Decorating the house was always the best part of Christmas.  My sister and I each had our own little tree and nativity set. My mother's three wise men creeped me the heck out.  Homemade kings of fire and brimstone is more like it.  The politically correct black king was a literal interpretation of a "black" man.  Poor thing looked like he'd been tarred.  And the tallest wise man's face was definitely melted on.  He had a saggy eye.  I would always run quickly by them when I passed for the nightmares they ensued.


My sister and I always got a new ornament every year.  I still have my first (a wooden tree with presents inside) and, unfortunately, so does my mother.  This poor angel with fuzzy pipe cleaner arms and balding head finally met her demise to some squirrels last year.  It really did break my heart to see how it affected her.


I know Christmas is over-commercialized but it is because of that commercialization that I have so many fond memories.  Yeah, the wise men were creepy, but my grandmother made them, so I appreciate them.  I will always remember the year a mouse died in our sofa and we discovered it when moving the furniture to set up the tree.  The year everyone got sick because we decided to buy a real tree will always be in my memories and Miracle the cat always makes decorating the tree uber fun.


I don't care if you hate Christmas because you feel it's fake and everyone should be kind and happy throughout the entire year.  Or that if you want to give gifts, you believe you don't need a holiday to do it.  Here's what I have to say to that:  unfortunately, people are not kind all year round and they don't give presents or set up light displays or hang stockings or sing carols or drink eggnog or give fruit cakes or sell Hickory Farms in the mall any other time of the year.  So if stores want to start setting up Christmas displays before Halloween, let them, because it brings my memories evermore quickly to the place where the fondest times of my life exist.

Beginnings

Ever since I was a small child, I realized I saw the world differently.  Not just because I was shorter than most people, but, as a friend later pointed out, I am quirky.  I like this term much better than the one appointed me by the bullies in my life.  Words like "annoying" or "weird" or even the distasteful "immature."  These words are harsh and judgmental.  Quirky.  Now, that's a very fun sounding word.  Like "eccentric."  Much better choice descriptions from our lexicon.


So... to start a blog.  How fun!  I was driving home last night after an absolutely fantabulous evening when I just had the notion I need to write.  It was like an itching under the skin.  Please, world, let me get my thoughts out there somehow.  Hmm... why not start a blog?  There are plenty of people out there doing it.  (And many whom should not be doing it.)  So, why not me?


This blog will be my own little world.  I love little things and this will be my little contribution to life.  The place where I get to dispense forth my own little opinions on how I see and feel things should be in the world.  My place for my own little opinions.  My own lil' world.