A Letter to The Drink to Beat All Drinks

An open letter to the most elegant and inspiring of popular beverages, the magnificent warm cup of tea,

Your effect is overwhelming, awakening each of the senses as your rich flavor sends satisfied pleasure throughout a tired body. From the heavenly aroma with which you announce your kingly presence, to the inviting warmth that emits from the steaming mug you are presented in, everything about you is beautifully fulfilling for any of us who slave away at work, school, or other type of responsibility.

The noble history that follows you provides the utmost respect in the world of refreshment, for you are among the small, honorable group of drinks enjoyed by both monarchs and holy prophets alike. The legacy you are associated with is in a field of its own, with entire conflicts being built over the atrocity of wasting even a pound of the gift you bestow on this rapidly advancing world.

No other beverage can compare to your ability to relieve the stress of another tedious day, preventing the dark clutches of migraines, sore throats, and tight muscles from pulling us mortals down into the abyss of irritation and exhaustion. You will away seasonal colds and infections, and calm the always running, always worrying thought processes of crippling anxiety. The world slows to a soothing lull, and answers to problems present themselves after you have done your miraculous work at maintaining serene order among the chaos of society.

Without you to lend a hand, those of us swamped with assignments, exams, applications, and all other types of looming deadlines would never survive at a functioning level. You are the answer when there is no coffee, or too much has been consumed. You are the perfect alternative when pop begins to taste like sticky sugar paste, making teeth tingle and tongues heavy. You calm the nerves, and open the doorway for confidence, efficiency, and success. High grades, acceptance letters, and approved proposals all owe their existence to you and your never ending aid to those addicted to perfectionism.

You will forever be one of the most important drinks to grace human civilization. From the early societies of Asia, to the powerful and extravagant kings and queens of European empires, you are the connecting element, bringing worlds together to celebrate you and your exquisiteness.

Words cannot describe the profound impact you have caused on us, your loyal subjects. You are the end to a rough day and the jump start to an early morning. You are the physician, psychologist, and faithful companion. What you give to us is more valuable than coffee, pop, or other caffeinated supplements. Your group of lovers celebrate your wide variety of forms and flexibility, forever grateful that you fit all aspects and lifestyles. Your dedication to us has secured a permanent place in our hearts, continuously reminding us of the bountiful benefits you offer.

We hope to always have the opportunity to cherish your gifts, and will continue to worship you as one of the best of drinks the world has to offer.

Affectionately,
Your devoted tea appreciators

Ode to the Negativity of Spring

Painful. Spring is painful. 

Spring is three long months of allergies and sinus pressure with bipolar weather patterns and grueling finals. It is the final obstacle in the way of summer vacation, and the time of making difficult decisions about the all too quickly approaching future. 

The start of the season also starts the cycle of medication to prevent the constant headaches, stuffy noses, and sore throats that plague most miserable victims of poor immune systems. Rain brings sinus infections, and sun brings blooms that are only out to cause harm, an endless cycle of frustration.

With spring comes responsibility. All of the hours spent studying throughout a depressing autumn and a bitter winter begin to mean something as spring arrives with the expectation to combine all the useful knowledge gained and put it to use. Exams and projects pile up at an alarming rate until there isn't time to breathe or possibly enjoy the spread of colors after the drabness of the start of the year.

If it's not school work then it is the demands of the holiday season, with Lent and Easter and the demands of grandparents who feel that it is of the utmost importance to make a good impression. While the dinners and gatherings of church members are entertaining every once and awhile, growing up with restrictions on what to eat on specific days is annoying for any adolescent.

Spring brings color and new life, but it also causes stress, pain, and irritation. Though it marks the end of subzero temperatures and ice storms, it also brings in a fresh round of stress that lasts until the schools finally relent at the start of summer. March, April, and May, while supposedly beautiful, all merely offer some sort of pain that only makes the last months of school harder. Until the twenty first of June, when it is officially the warmest of the seasons and the flowers have all bloomed to their full potential, will all the trials of spring relent and offer peace after months of difficulty.

The Expectation of Risk

Risk taking has always come with that exciting thrill that keeps the idea of danger entertaining in the eyes of those willing (or perhaps foolish) enough to partake. Whether it is from peer pressure or the need to prove one's worth, risk taking has quickly become an expectation for young adults, particularly males, adding to the ever growing lists of examples that prove how society is drowning in foolish arrogance.

In today's world, risks integrate themselves into all aspects of growing up. Being prone to taking a risk shows one's strength, courage, and worth to their peers, and is often what determines whether or not one is "cool" or in the selective circle of those considered better. Boys who recklessly push and kick at each other at recess, girls who delve into the volatile world of gossip by sharing secrets without thought of consequence, all in an attempt to make a mark, secure a position, or ensure that they will not be left behind in the savage world of grade school hierarchy.

Particularly in males, there is the mandatory need to assert one's dominance, usually through acts of violence or fantastic stunts that often involve some extreme physical motion that could very easily cause harm. It is an expectation in this society to be the best of the best, and to always push down those who dare to challenge the sacred order. Males have always had this desire to use risks to prove their worth and win the respect of their peers to show their betterment. Scuffles between young boys, or dangerous joyrides in cars full of drunk college students both have the common theme of using potentially threatening (in some way or form) situations to scare off any potential threats to the so called "natural order" of what most boys consider to be a friend group. The more risk one takes, the higher in the pack they are, a status which, at least to the stereotypical man, is more important than stopping to think of what could potentially happen if something were to go awry.

This inclination to take a thoughtless risk is not seen as frequently in women. While females tend to take risks in a more social form, by telling secrets, or following (or deviating from) a trend, there is not the overwhelming necessity to do something physically reckless to take control of a group. Generally, a female would rather form her own complex order system that is unchanging, determined solely by the basic traits or abilities of her fellow girls. There is not a frequent change in dominance in a female pack, and if there does happen to be one, it tends to be a large, dramatic spectacle that is talked about for days on end until the dirt settles for the next few months. The expectation to prove one's physical worth does not exist in the land of the female, showing yet another aspect of gender expectations in society.

These expectations are one of the sole reasons for heightened amounts of risk taking, especially in younger adults. It is imperative to assert a specific rank or niche in society, and what better way to accomplish this than by proving that you can drink one of your mates under the table? With the amount of competition in this world, the flashiest and most dangerous acts that are successfully pulled off gain the most attention and prestige. Without risk, there would be no surefire way to show how one person is better than another. Therefore, the idea of risk taking has settled comfortably in the mainstream social code until it is simply part of life, forever increasing the chances for stupid or more reckless acts all in the name of superiority.

Feel the Bern

When the fight for presidential nominations began, it definitely wasn't expected to have one of the most controversial men in the country leading the Republican polls. Out of all the middle-aged white politicians vying for the job, it is more than a little disappointing to see that the one who is notorious for petty insults being the most popular. The options on the Republican side seem to dwindle with each drop out, with the only true minorities on the political spectrum either gone or too far down in the polls to make a difference.

If the elections were to be held today, it would surely be a bloodbath between the endless supply of Republican candidates, which would leave an open way for the two Democrats to grab at victory. Because of the indecisiveness of the GOP, it seems logical to turn to someone who spends more time analyzing political issues than other candidates themselves. While labelled as a radical, it would seem that the only person to accomplish this in great detail would be the longest running Independent congressman, Bernie Sanders.

The Vermont Senator has managed to grab the attention of the young voters, and for good reason. With his social idealism, he has sparked hope in young adults for cheaper college, expanded civil rights, and a better health care system. While he is a self-proclaimed Socialist supporter, the idea of having someone other than the usual group of rich white Christians could be a refreshing change. Aside from the fact that he is the first Jewish person to ever run for this high an office, Sanders seems to have an outlook different from every other candidate running in this election.

His ideas are radical, and his plans would be expensive, but perhaps this is what the nation needs, even if it is only for one term. With the past few decades being full of nothing but bitter political fighting, it may be time for a dark horse candidate to take the spot light. Yes, it will be difficult for Sanders to successfully implement his plans for major economic and social change in a Republican-Dominated congress, but it would ensure that the entire Federal government wouldn't be dominated by one party.

Sanders continuously promotes the need for a political revolution in this country, and with the dramatic show the other candidates have been putting on for the past few months, he may be right. Change is essential to any growing super power, and perhaps he could bring about one that causes the next turning point in American history. Unafraid to call out the wage gap between both women and men and the rich and poor, Sanders could potentially be the answer to the upcoming generations demands for a change in society. If anything, at least he discusses the need for equality for longer than thirty seconds.

While he may not be the first choice, Bernie Sanders could be the best choice. His chances aren't particularly ideal, but he has very noticeably given the other Democrat, Secretary Clinton, a run for her money. If the next president was elected today, he would have the support of a people who want significant social change, not the usual run of the mill possibility of an improvement. While many may not see it, perhaps this social change is what America needs to, in the words of the ever overconfident Donald Trump, "be great again."

Of Art Galleries and Frogs

Nothing is more serene than the quiet class of an art gallery.

Soft French jazz flowing lazily throughout a small studio, the warm Hawaiian breeze gently pushing natural scents of native hibiscus and ohia in through open windows, and a calm, quiet ambiance, much like the feeling of the island itself, envelopes an ordinary looking building. Unlike the modern, sophisticated art galleries of New York or Paris, this shop is small and quaint, and one of many that line the coastal cliffs of the Big Island. Hues of yellow and powder blue on weather worn siding add an odd charm not commonly associated with the usual class of professional exhibits, but the complex glass work in the windows assures any skeptic that the artwork inside is just as beautiful.

It has become a tradition on these family vacations to find the hidden gems in small towns that offer a singular kind of souvenir. A long history of art enthusiasm creates a wide variety of taste between each family member, which leads to at least one day dedicated to walking from shop to shop, looking at pieces that are as simple and elegant as a self-portrait or as complex and edgy as a metal sculpture. Works from each vacation spot fill family homes, acting as constant reminders of breezy summer days and hours spent looking for unique trinkets in the nooks and crannies of world famous locations. This trip is no different, and after hours of looking through traditional Hawaiian galleries, this shop looks particularly promising.

An open door leads the way to polished wooden floors and cream walls filled with paintings and sculptures that are a colorful mix of traditional and modern style. A counter full of smaller trinkets, jewelry, and stationary is off to the side, offering entertainment for younger parties who are rather uninterested in analyzing large abstract portraits of Hawaiian Gods. Behind the counter sits a small old woman who offers a French greeting  before giving an overview of her unique collection, allowing us access to every small room and closet that holds any sort of piece.

Each new turn offers a different theme, from strikingly realistic paintings of wildlife to hanging mobiles of jade, but nothing catches our eyes. That is, until one room in the back finally exhibits a set of work that is distinctly set apart from the rest. Different from all of the work in previous rooms hangs a six piece set of small portraits in sleek black frames, all arranged in a specific story line. Showing several significant historical events, painted in very traditional style, are not humans, but frogs. Coming in all varieties, dressed in both traditional Hawaiian clothing and sophisticated English suits, and performing a variety of different functions from dancing to signing the Treaty of Versailles are a set of amphibians that have an element of brilliant satire that only the keenest of eyes can pick up on.

Both comical and intriguing, the set shoots to the top of the list of pieces to buy, winning everyone's approval, whether they understand the deeper meanings or not. Capturing both a distinct sense of dry humor and bits of Hawaiian culture all in one group, the paintings fit the bill of the long list of family requirements for buying any professional art. The pieces are surprisingly accepted without the normal negotiation and are wrapped in brightly colored paper, with a side of chocolates offered as another thank you from the store owner. The usual calm silence of the gallery is broken for a momentary exclamation of joy from the woman, pleased that her work is appreciated enough to be bought so eagerly. With all the kindness and hospitality that the people on the Big Island embrace, she offers refreshments and information about other hidden treasures that Hawaii has to offer. Her brightness leaves us feeling lighter and rejuvenated, a refreshing change from most other vacation spots. Gliding along on a cloud of her positive energy, we step out into the sunshine, continuing on our way towards the next discovery, with our latest masterpiece in hand.

A Special Kind of Doctor

The waiting room is peaceful, with light blue walls and coloring pages of farm animals. Children stick close to their parents, quietly asking questions or fidgeting in their seats, most being inclined to experience some type of anxious thoughts. The staff is kind and talk in soft tones, always with a smile. Strangely, there are no signs hanging up about washing hands or eating fruits and vegetables, but rather posters depicting happiness or sharing feelings. This is a special kind of doctor, dedicated just to talking.

With a predisposition to significant difficulty in social situations, it became necessary to explore this option. Through extensive convincing and a bit of deception, due to a strong distaste for doctors (regular or special), mom successfully brought me to what is most definitely certain death. She is somehow calm, grading her math tests efficiently, paying no mind to what she likes to call being over dramatic. Obviously, she has never experienced something as terrible as this.

Images of shots, bad medicine, and evil men in lab coats fill the mind, causing nervous anticipation to swell until there is the soft, constant tap of my light up sneakers. Are these other children going to their deaths as well? One by one, their names are called, and they disappear through a large brown door, perhaps never to be seen again. The list of other patients grows shorter and shorter, and the room is almost completely empty when a tall woman opens the door and calls the only name that matters.

Unlike the other children, who go alone with whoever fetches them, mom follows the woman with me, and soon we are in front of what looks like an office rather than the rooms at the pediatrician's. Inside there are several couches, all of which look surprisingly soft and comfortable, along with a shelf full of board games and large leather books with long extensive titles. The woman gives her name, which is too complicated to remember (I am busy preparing for whatever horrors are in store), and offers the smallest of the couches as a place to sit. She and mom then begin a conversation, discussing the reasoning for the visit, her voice smooth and nothing like the evil witch I had imagined. Instead, soft laughter and bright commentary fill the room, creating a strangely comforting atmosphere, which, despite my stubborn resistance, has a quick relaxing effect on my nerves.

This visit is short, an introduction to what could be an effective plan for therapy. The doctor asks questions that are easy enough for me to understand, offering smiles whenever there is reason to second guess the safety of the
situation. There will be no shots today. The session feels more like a friendly conversation with a teacher than a formal examination, and miraculously, isn't accompanied by the overwhelming desire to leave. She even offers one of the waiting room coloring pages as entertainment while she and mom turn the talks towards insurance.

Never before had I been so content in the presence of a doctor. Coloring in the lines of my horse picture, I feel almost entertained. When the conversation is finished, she offers another shockingly bright smile and offers to walk to the front, towards a different door, designated specifically for leaving. For the first time in all my eight years, I did not feel sick at the thought of coming back for another appointment. If every visit involved coloring pages and soft couches, then perhaps it wasn't so scary after all.

A Different Kind of Show

There is nothing more exhilarating than the final swell of voices at the height of a show stopping number.

Each phrase sweeping up the audience in agony, joy, or anger, the buzz of a theater both uplifting and fulfilling. The rejuvenation that comes with seeing a complex dance sequence more satisfying than any of the stunts in TV shows or movies. My childhood consists of hours upon hours of these productions, Broadway's best and brightest giving a private performance whenever the DVD was inserted into the player. While other kids brag about their Disney collections, my pride swells at the mention of the wide variety of musicals that Dad bought every so often.

Broadway's presence is everywhere in our home. The familiarity of show tunes fill empty car rides or sound loudly throughout the house during cleaning days, impromptu performances constantly taking precedence over any sweeping or laundry. After all the work is done, the reenactments subside and turn to attentive viewings of Colm Wilkinson's legendary Jean Valjean or Bernadette Peters'  unique role of the witch. The tragedy of Fantine may be too complex for my young mind to fully grasp, but the music alone was more than enough to create the foundations for a life long interest.

Empty days full of rain or snow provide the best atmosphere for viewing the performances. On one memorable occasion, I find myself in the living room, perfectly content to put myself in the famous theaters of New York or London once again, dreaming of being able to do the same dramatic solos. Dad is playing a gig, and mom is mulling over her latest literary favorite, only half paying attention to my newest obsession. Dancing cats are obviously the most interesting thing I'd found thus far. Never before had I seen such colorful costumes or fabulous dancing, and nothing was more important than watching Webber's famous work on repeat (much to my parents' distaste).

However, believing that my own cats were just as eager to dance may have not have been the best of deductions. Trying to get a grumpy old tabby to do the miraculous twists and turns that I was quickly in love with results not in a perfect rendition of the opening number, but rather an irked feline and several unsavory scratches. Perhaps Bert, Ernie, and Cosmo did not want to be Broadway stars after all, and I should have heeded mom's warning. The show is put on hold while I receive vital medical attention, and despite my personal desire, our house pets never have to perform again.

Despite not having my own personal cat stars, my love for the shows never dwindled. Instead of focusing on the social obligations of elementary school, I tried to dance along to Annie. Instead of going to see the newest kid's movie hit, I went proudly downtown to see the performing arts school's productions of my favorites. Broadway and the world of musicals provided not only endless entertainment, but also warmth and happiness, representing something everyone in my family loved. Even today, though things aren't as simple or smooth, show tunes have a permanent residence in our home, their flashiness and emotion continuing to give reason for reenactments instead of cleaning and weekly family gatherings to watch the latest sensational production.