Big Role Models

Children certainly need healthy role models. But is Santa a role model to begin with? Tantillo persuades that Santa is enough of a role model that children are influenced by him. After all, Santa has qualities that could be desirable in a child’s eyes. Although some of this is speculative, his most interesting qualities include supernatural powers, super-human speed, a workshop of elves, flying reindeer, omniscience, and the ability to conceive any toy desirable. On paper, his powers look like something from a graphic novel.

With all this in mind, we can conclude that Santa can be a child’s idol. So far Tantillo has a point, but his weight problem is still the main focus here. Until a cure-all solution is discovered there will always be fat people. Tantillo comes close to addressing the problem, but “fatness” isn’t the true issue here. Lack of activity and clogged arteries are what ultimately catch up to us, but just being overweight is not the issue, and there are plenty of examples to support this.

Athletics are not impervious to overweight participants who are also successful. Eric “Butterbean” Esch, for example, is a professional heavyweight boxer who has carried on a long and successful career out of his weight. His entertainment value alone makes his matches worth watching. However his skills in the ring are notoriously dangerous and he has plenty of official victories to prove it.

Shiny Nose

Santa is only a character just like any other children’s mythos. Perhaps he’s the most well-known, even among communities that celebrate holiday’s alternative to the traditional Christmas, but he is still only a character. The argument here is that characters such as Santa are presented as these caring, giving creatures. Santa specifically is the epitome of a gift-giving figure, the nice old bearded man inflated to supernatural proportions. His story even taken romantically rather than literally could be inspiring. However, his weight is ironic, as are many of the elements of the classic story. Somehow, of all the people in the world, this older man with a little extra fat is the person to deliver toys worldwide once a year.

It's just as silly as Rudolph's tale. He's another ironic character in the Christmas mythology. According to the popular television special, Rudolph was made fun of by other the reindeer for having a red nose that brightly illuminated his surroundings. Clearly, this reindeer would be a practical addition to Santa's team, but he's discouraged anyway. Rudolph seems well suited for the team of reindeer, but Santa doesn't seem well suited as the role of himself.

Skipping Class

While everyone can agree that experience is a valid part of the college experience it is not the prime concern.The value of education over experience in colleges is important because college is pricey. Experience can be obtained for free, but for those who pay for the purpose of learning our universities should be stricter. If our colleges aren't for learning, where do those who want to learn turn to?

Daycare for Scholars

In Rob Herbert's article in the New York Times, Herbert is upset by the influx of students who leave college without a valuable experience. He claims that students are spending less time hitting the books, and more time hitting the bottle and partying. With the statistic that "easier" majors are being offered, he crutches this argument to point out that our wealth is from experiences, not academics.

Most of the problem here comes from the fact that little is taken away from colleges. It is partially the students fault for not studying as vigerously, but Herbert digresses that colleges are not pushing students enough. I agree with his claim, because more often than not I see people pushed to the route of college when they could instead be spending their "party time" more wisely. However, I disagree that college graduates suffer from the party syndrome. If, in fact, colleges are too easy then I don't think the students can share as much of the blame. As for me, college requires determination that not all have the willpower to harness. Even if some freshman and sophomore courses are like daycare for some, the end result is that I've left with more than a degree and party experience.

Diet Santa

During this past holiday season, Fox News’ John Tantillo argued that Santa Clause is too fat. He insists that although Santa is caring, jolly, and generally a favorable character in the light of the season, he is a flawed role model because of his belly. With childhood obesity rates at their highest, it is the children that are really at stake. While I agree that children need to aspire for fitness and athleticism, I disagree that Santa should be "redesigned." Santa is just a character and I can't imagine him idolized in the same way as rock stars, attorneys, presidents or doctors.

The Right Hand

When I looked down I saw that my knuckles were smashed in from the force of my punch. Conventionally, it may not be the greatest knockout story in history, but I still felt like a hero. I've been in a fight or three in my younger years, but I try to think of myself as a peaceful person. To this day, I can say that I'm proud of how my hand was broken.

Daydreams

I rarely have vivid dreams, but when I do they are most interesting when I'm still awake. I have a tendency to zone out very deeply when my brain is bored. In school situations, and certainly never Professor Benton's Advanced Essay Writing class, in a moment of downtime I can have intense daydreams. I've kept a small mental journal of these imaginings for my readers' pleasure.

Insant Death

There's nothing I despise more than a fatal freefall to earth. I hate it so much that I avoid high ledges at any opportunity. When I watch a movie with people crawling up a mountain or a tower, even a rooftop, I avoid it to protect the improbable disaster of my body being sucked into the television like Carol Anne Freeling in Poltergeist. Height is my truest fear.

Semantics of Romantics

My high school classmates were never particularily troublesome, and in fact in my 13 years at the district I was spoiled with how smooth and peaceful the days went. None of us had died, gone to prison, or diagnosed as unstable. Aside from a few dozens of unexpected pregnancies we were all great kids. I always felt like I was the one struggling to impress. Looking back from here, I feel like I'm the only one who went in a straight line.

The Courtesy of Crashing

We arrive at the four-way-stop. Each of us assess the vehicular situation by looking at all sides. After a quick glance around the area before and after stopping behind the white line, you know which order the cars will accellerate in. Excited, you go second, after the white van to the right who was here before you even arrived. The other cars have only just arrived. You creep forward while keeping an eye on the blue car to the left. "ah, an understanding, I can go." You speed forward a few feet and around that time the blue car decides that it's hammertime and that his turn must take place while your car is in front of his.

Drawing Out My Failures

After a previous attempt, which I discovered I failed at failing, I've recently tried to confront everything I've ever failed at in my life. To my surprise I've had an overflow of success. Not in my present state, but during my earlier years. Growing up I was a messy painting of a child.

As I've said before, mistakes are important because you can always use your failed situation as an outline of a successful situation. With this in mind, a true failure can only be something you're null to grasping. When my list narrowed down, I discovered that I sucked the miserable heart out of art. The art of creative drawing, to be exact.

There are pre-1990's Disney cartoons with exquisitely detailed and lovable characters redrawn in hundreds of thousands of frames to create a beautiful hour and a half-story. While I grew up watching these wonderful movies, I could not draw a perfect circle. My rendition of Simba from The Lion King looked like an angry, tumorous cloud with chicken legs.

I didn't give up easily. I could master coloring in the lines with crayon, so surely I could master a damned lion drawing, or at least the soul of a drawing. My hands were talented in other areas. I learned how to give massages, to drive a 3000+ pound vehicle, and even to type at 250 words per minute; they had the dexterity to lift weights and pull my body up a rock wall. But, when a pencil is gripped between my fingers and it touches the paper my hands refuse to share their skill with the lead.

During junior year of college I bought myself a dry-erase board. My roommate and I would share it for grocery lists and silly drawings. "This is it," I thought with courage. Little did I know that my cursed hands were still art-retarded from wrist to fingertip. When I went to draw hilarious pictures of genitals to surprise and potentially embarrass my roommate I was left with a worthless and unfunny picture and a wounded pride.

Being an English major I'll hopefully never have to worry about my failure. I'll keep it a secret like an artist's bad drawing. Besides, bad drawings can be just as unintentionally funny as ones with artistic souls.

Once a jerk, always...

I enjoy puns almost as much as I savor the delicately seasoned, dehydrated meats of Robertsons Real Beef Jerky. I've guzzled pounds and pounds worth of packaged beef jerky over the years. Packed with protein, beef jerky is not only snackable but health efficient as well.

During each major moment in my life a bag of beef jerky is in a cabinet or opened on my lap. Almost every day after school my grandma would buy me a small package with a few pieces inside. This went on for years, because I loved it so much and my grandma is generally an awesome woman who buys me beef jerky, so of course I allowed it to go on I never thought of my world as food centric, but when essaying over beef jerky my days could be defined less by how excited I was when returning home after a hard day, but more on the mouth-pounding deliciousness of the jerky. Those strips of sodium packed man fuel marked the metastasis from the revolting part of my day, elementary school, to the delightful days of climbing trees and critiquing dinosaur films, home.

Later on my life I would share it with a girl. No one stays with their first love, but for me that first love was a turning point. A transition into the world of social embrace from my socially awkward stages of my teenage years.

Not only was beef jerky there with this girl, but during the break up, and onto the next phase of my life. It was there for my graduation, and my first day of college. I regret to say I haven't had a piece of beef jerky in over a year, but that will have to change.

Pimping Our Mouths

I took this topic too far. Far too far.


Gossip is the most sincere, withstanding, and purely golden of all conversation topics. Indeed, you can fall back to asking about the weather with the locals, but closer friends are thirstier for a deeper topic; they want something deliciously vicious to throb their tongues to. The weather is so effortless, but it’s even easier to mock are the people with flaws. Perhaps it’s the pastor that hits his kids, or your friend’s mom who is cheating with the pastor, or even the mom’s child who gave up Harvard to work at Cici’s Pizza and smoke the mighty herb. One of these people will be your topic of conversation someday. Don’t fret and find it easy to hate yourself. No, hating yourself is unhealthy, but hating others in secret is harmless. Gossip is healthy, in fact.

Outlets exist for everything. Violent video games are controversial, but for a fraction of people they can revise their fantasy of beating hobos to death and reiterate this into a video game or crocheting. Similarly, gossip is our filter for saying “you suck” to someone’s face.

When you’re close enough to someone, you start to understand why eccentric old people gossip about young’uns. We’re radically different, even from the flower children variety. They look at our Lindsay Lohan drug scandals or Lady Gaga’s and turn into a gossip fountain. And honestly, although we’ve accepted Lady Gaga into our mainstream hearts, we have plenty to tear apart.

That said some are easier to pick on than others. I think of myself as an open gentleman, accepting of the broadest of norms. Some of my best friends are gay, jobless, foreign, or even haters themselves. I love all of them, and would never gossip about someone because of their life ideology. Yet, when it directly affects their livelihood, or your own, one must step in and talk about them to everyone else.

My example for this essay is an ex of mine. It’s been a good four months, and I’ve moved on, but it’s amazing how she has become the prime target of everyone’s gossip since our demise. I, myself, have tried to take the high road and say little to infect the gossip. I failed. She’s too easy to laugh at.

Let’s start with the fact that she started gaining weight. This isn’t a bad thing, I would never ostracize one for gaining a few pounds, but she turned into a lazy sponge. I go to school full time and work part time here and there. She had a part time job, and 90% of the time she was lounging on the couch, complaining about how hard it was to sit all day and chat on facebook. I would end up doing most of the household cleaning, dishes, and picking up after her. Furthermore, she did not help with the rent. I understand that she had to pay for her car, but you must understand that $300 of her money were not in savings and unaccounted for.

I, being a man with testosterone producing testis, started pressuring her to get off her rump and work out, clean, and generally be a good roommate. She would have nothing of it. I kicked her out and she soon turned into an insane megaphone of a human. Rumors ignited shortly afterward. Suddenly I was a lazy bum who was afraid to graduate college, although in my defense I’m graduating on time, and her other claim is that I left her for a slut. In the alleged slut’s defense she had nothing to do with it and is one kind, sexy woman.

This ex went bonkers. I reached out to be her friend on more than one occasion since the breakup, and she kindly accepted it, before going deranged again and calling me names.

My friends have since given me plenty of details on her to devour since then. I’ll give them to you, to show how much I secretly enjoy to gossip: 1) She dyed her hair black, and it doesn’t flatter her weight gain. 2) She’s dated a large number of old men in an effort to trap a sugar daddy with babies. 3) She’s attempted to seduce my current girlfriend. 4) She wears one outfit that consists of denim on denim every day, and refuses to change underwear. 5) This, I learned myself, she doesn’t know how to spend money. I had a mailbox filled with letters and voicemails from loan sharks and banks trying to reach her.

With all this said, I don’t gossip often. I only use it as a route of conversational topic when two people are gleefully upset with a particular individual. I argue that it’s healthy. You shouldn’t keep things bottled up inside.

I can’t justify everything I say. I have flaws of my own that helped end the relationship. Mostly, these were due to my disinterest in continuing the thing. As I’ve said before, I have trouble finding my own flaws, and perhaps you can just assume that when I gossip I can be really mean. I promise I love you, world. Just don’t be a directly parasitic to my life.

Cheek and Irony

It was hard for me to pick just one element that suits my essay writing. Cheek and irony fit the best, as I am more likely to poke fun at a particular person or thing.

However, roman numeral III somewhat fit me because I like to poke fun at myself sometimes as well. Yet, this wouldn't have worked as well because it's hard for me to specify my flaws. Number five would also apply to me fairly strongly. Any time you're making fun of someone else you draw a minimal amount of attention to yourself. Egocentricity is unavoidable.

Part of it is because it's hard for me to take things seriously. My most comfortable voice is dry and somewhat humerus rather than serious.

Failure

Critically analyzing yourself is the first step to really knowing who you are. The biggest problem that came up for me thinking of my flaws is that I honestly can't think of many. Reading another post, it looks like this is a common occurring.

Maybe that is my biggest flaw. I'm unable to see what is wrong with myself. For example, when someone asks me what I dislike about my writing I can't come up with an answer. I know there are problems, because there have to be. No amount of drafting can make a work perfect. If I'm asked what I dislike about myself, I still can't come up with anything. When I wake up I can have bad breath and my hair doesn't obey, but are those fair flaws?

In the French film Amélie, a failed writer says "Failure teaches us that life is but a draft, a long rehearsal for a show that will never play." Recognizing what's wrong with other people is important too, but learning from your own mistakes is the most important.

To learn from my first mistake of being unable to think of any flaws about myself, I'm going to find them out for myself. In everyday conversation, how people react, how I can improve what I'm already doing, are all ways to start.

Photos

For a large part of my life I didn't consider myself to be a "photogenic" person. Then again, I had to grow into myself a lot, so maybe I wasn't an "eyeogenic" teenager either.

Thankfully, I've since grown into myself. Where I once had to edit my high school Myspace poses to be angled in such a way or properly exposed to the point where I looked a certain way, I'm presently content with my pictures. As a male, I should remain attractive well into my thirties before my hair starts thinning.

I would argue that becoming comfortable with self-portraits is a gateway to self-confidence. Once you're comfortable enough to take a picture of yourself and be happy with it, you can start to feel better about other aspects of your appearance. It certainly worked for me.

Don't forget that you can always have really terrible pictures of yourself that get tagged on facebook somewhere. Usually your mouth is opened and something is in it, or you just woke up and there's a huge crease on your face. The flash doesn't discriminate.

Furthermore, having self-confidence is never a guaranteed cure for ugliness. It just makes you more attractive. In fact, sometimes over-confidence can make you an overly egotistical bastard, but nevertheless I encourage everyone to take more pictures and strive for self-appreciation.

New Experiences

I had a new experience that is as recent as the past hour that I may as well write about. It will be conveniently cheesy and short.

I have a personal policy of avoiding The Wal (mart) near periods of drab weather. Unfortunately, today my pantry contained no food and I had no choice. The roads as of an hour ago were soggy, not icy, and still quite drivable in my car. I made the three mile trek to Wal-Mart and expectedly parked far, far from the entrance.

My list was ready. The girlfriend read off the order in which we should grab items as I darted the cart in and out of the old folks who were pausing for 30 second to two minute intervals to find the right product. I paused myself to talk to a friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Just when I thought our conversation had been hastily rushed through, I ran into another friend to repeat the process.

Finally, I checked out and rushed to my car. Snow blew into my nose. I ignored it, like the mighty emperor penguin I am, and emptied my basket into the trunk of my car. The trip home was a blur. The blur was mostly due to the snow and fog that had accumulated to my windshield, which made driving in Ada a party. A tense six minute drive later I was in front of my apartment, flipping my key to the left and celebrating the welcome of food.