Why Chocolate and Hazelnuts Belong Together

Gregory Hepp stared aimlessly into the empty container of Nutella. It was all gone except for a couple of chocolaty streaks left at the bottom, which no one could ever get. “Who ate my Nutella?” he called from the kitchen, but there was just silence. The house was empty. Maybe his mother was buying it at the store right now. The hazelnut and chocolate spread was always a staple at his house for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or dessert. Last year, when he was in grade school, his mom would spread it generously on two pieces of toast and sandwich banana slices between them in two neatly arranged rows of three. It was his favorite afterschool snack and especially comforting when Tim Salinas would call him fat. Nowadays, his mother was too busy with work to make it. His new favorite way of eating it was with just a spoon.
*time change
“Greg!” a voice called an hour later from the garage. He opened the backdoor in the kitchen to his mother unloading groceries. “Sweetie, there’s something in this bag for you,” she said handing him a plastic grocery bag. He helped his mother unpack the rest of the groceries, keeping an especially tight grip on the bag for him. He rooted around the bag hoping for the treat he’d been longing for. “Sweeeet!” he said pulling out a new container of Nutella. “This is all for me?”
“Yeah, I know how much you love it,” she smiled. “I got a second jar for daddy and me, so you can eat as much as you like.”
Greg thanked his mom and eagerly ran upstairs to his room carrying the brown container filled with indulgence. He couldn’t wait to sit back on his bed and eat Nutella spoonful by spoonful until his troubles would melt away like the spread in his mouth. Carefully, he pulled back the seal already tasting the hazelnut and chocolaty filling coat the inside of his mouth. As always, the inside of the freshly opened container was glorious. It had the consistency of peanut butter with a perfect swirl in the center where the machine had trailed off. Greg grabbed the spoon sitting by his bed, ready to sink it into the Nutella, ready to taste the smooth richness of this one of a kind cream, when something stopped him.
His reflection sat before him, judgmentally eyeing his every move from the mirror on the closet door. His blonde hair was ruffled under a Blue Jays hat. His beady brown eyes were hardly visible because of his plump freckled cheeks. In fact, he kind of resembled one of those annoyingly high-pitched, animated chipmunks that only made appearances during Christmas. Not the skinnier ones, the fat one, Theodore.
What do you want? Greg asked him.
I want you to stop being such a fatass, snickered his reflection.
Screw off! Am not!
Go ahead, fatso, eat it… I’m sure Josie loves Nutella freaks!
Hastily, Greg put down the Nutella in attempt to silence his reflection. All he wanted to do was smash the mirror into pieces and have his damn Nutella. But Theodore was right-- Nutella wasn’t the way to Josie’s heart. Josie wouldn’t date a fat boy with an overprotective mother; she belonged with a sensitive boy with overgrown muscles. Never had he refused a newly unsealed container, but now the stuff was simply a jar of leaded guilt. It seductively sat on his bedside table filled with an immeasurable amount of love and hate. “Get outta here,” Greg said knocking it out of sight.
***
Josie had hazel eyes and rich brown hair and reminded Greg of Nutella. She sat by him in history class and didn’t like to talk much from what Greg could gather; she preferred texting. During class, she sat with her pink purse in her lap and her hands buried inside her purse typing away on her touch screen. “What’ya got in there?” Greg asked, trying to make conversation during Monday work time.
“It’s a Samsung,” Josie responded shyly, still focusing intently into her bag.
“What’s that?”
Proudly, Josie pulled out a shiny black Samsung Galaxy from her bag. She was probably the only one he knew in 6th grade who would have a touch screen phone, which made him wonder who she might be texting. “That’s a really cool phone! Can I see it?” Greg asked nervously.
Josie smiled at his interest in her prized possession. “Of course!” she said handing it over. Greg barely grasped it in his palm before the teacher gave them both lunch detentions for having a cell phone out.
Now, this was Greg’s chance. He was finally alone with Josie, besides the detention monitor who was extremely hearing impaired. They were practically about to have a lunch date. He could finally tell her how he felt about her; how he longed to touch the waves of her hair, how he adored her shyness, how he wanted so badly to go to Six Flags with her.
“I’m sorry I got you in trouble, Josie,” Greg whispered as they pulled out their lunches. Today, Greg asked his mom to make an especially nutritious lunch to impress Josie. She packed him a low-fat turkey sandwich, a carton of skim milk, and a banana with… a whole jar of Nutella? He groaned as he saw the fateful enemy appear from the paper sack before his eyes. Quickly, he threw it to the bottom of his brown bag.
“It’s okay. What’d ya pack?” Josie asked as he frowned into his sack.
“Oh, my mom packed Nutella but—“
“Nutella? What is that?”
Greg was surprised by her genuine interest. “A hazelnut and cocoa spread”
“It looks kind of like a jar of peanut butter,” she said peering into his lunch bag.
The monitor loudly cleared her throat. “You kids being quiet?” She asked with a mouthful of Taco Bell burrito. They nodded taking a mouthful of food. Josie was eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich with the crusts cut off.
Greg suddenly had an idea. “Well, you wanna try some?”
“Yes, especially if it’s anything like peanut butter.”
He smiled untwisting the container of Nutella. Then, grabbed for the plastic spoon his mother packed and carefully made an incision into the never-been-tasted jar. It was the perfect bite. “Here,” Greg said handing the spoon to Josie. As she mulled over the flavors in her mouth, Greg was strangely nervous. “Wow,” she began, licking her lips. “Now that… that is really good.”

A Living Anachronism

Ask me about the new Lady Gaga song or the latest hit on the Billboard Top 100, and I probably wouldn’t know it without taking a peek at iTunes. Although I agree it’s fun to break out and dance to the Katy Perry’s single of the month and as much as I enjoy the whole-hearted lyrics of Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole, my musical soul can best be defined by the most pure and passionate form of music, rock.
Specifically, rock stemming from the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s era. Of course, the melodic choruses and badass guitar solos are a deciding factor, but even more so it’s the entire culture behind the lyrics.
The first time I watched a VH1 greatest hits countdown, I fell in love. My eyes and ears glued to the T.V. as number 29, Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me played. Blondie and Duran Duran’s music videos were nothing like the rump shaking rap videos of my generation. The clothes were different, yet at the same time fresh and fun. I scrambled trying to type each song on the countdown into the search bar of Limewire. It was as if I had made some grand discovery; my head was spinning with adrenaline, I finally felt a part of something. This music which had once defined an era had now defined me.
That was eighth grade. And not long after that show, my peers started noticing my obscure music tastes. I started dressing like Madonna (virgin tour period that is) with ear buds always in blasting hair metal down the hallways. With the Abercrombie and Hollister drones which circled the middle school hallways, it was to needless to say I received some glares. Being a self-conscious pre-teen, I decided to trade in my leg warmers for skinny jeans and my bright blue eye shadow for a more neutral tone. On my iPod, I downloaded all the latest hits to keep up with my friends.
But in the privacy of my room, I secretly rocked out to Aerosmith and Nirvana. I discovered a newfound love for Tom Petty and Led Zeppelin with a little probing into my dad’s CD collection. Although it was all old music, it was new to me.
In the midst of my high school career, I finally began to Live And Let Die. I deleted all the obnoxious teeny pop songs and made room for my collection of Guns N’ Roses. I broke out my plaid shirts and combat boots (clearly I was progressing into a grunge phase). I was ready to come out of the rock and roll closet.
Along the way, I realized there were others like me who appreciated the mood-catching songs of Pearl Jam and melancholy melodies of The Cure. These were the bands I could empathize with, that I could relate to. Finally, I was proud to admit that It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me.

Winning Back the Other Half

Dear tormented reflection,
I’m sorry I haven’t the exotic features you desire.
From my lifeless matted locks to my blemish covered complexion,
I can’t seem to fix my inadequate beauty.
Blame it on my family genetics.
Sound accusations of hasty hearsay.

Now, let’s collaborate around the mirror.
Our little tradition so it appears.
With a fast hand,
I circle my areas of concern.
Soon, you are covered in green marks.
Eight maybe nine little changes –
What could be the harm?
However, I still see you cringe in sharp anguish.
The drama you generate clinging onto the backs of my heels.
You see, even with my lips stained in Red Delicious no. 4,
I’m afraid our state will be no different.
If I learn to accept the fun, genuine, lovable
Self I should see in you,
Then perhaps picture day won’t be so difficult.

Frankie says, Relax

Remember the first day of school? You were afraid and didn’t know anyone. You sat in class all awkward and shy hoping someone would magically become your friend. When you came home, your mom reassured you to just be yourself and people will love you just as you are.
For a free-spirited kindergartener, that advice might have worked its magic. Nowadays, teens are more scared than 6 year olds to “be themselves”. Maybe it’s because we don’t really know who we really are. We have been protecting and pretending for so long; we have forgotten. We’ve hidden behind our Coach Bags and generic clothes just to fit in and veiling our true feelings just to be nice. I’m certainly no exception to this, but I just want to ask when it became “uncool” to be ourselves?
Maybe it was when you said that stupid comment at lunch and everyone just giggled to themselves. How about that time you almost tripped down the stairs at school and everyone noticed? Whatever situation it may be, we must not let it bother us. Laugh, relax, and let it go because life is too short to overanalyze.
In short, many of us just forget that we are all human and all susceptible to judgment. And folks let’s be honest here, everyone’s #1 (or at least top 3) priority is self betterment. Everyone in this society is seeking one thing: approval. Whether it’s to get your mom to extend your curfew or getting that really cute kid to like you, approval is a universal concept. How does one get approval? My advice is the same as your mom gave you way back in kindergarten. Let down your guard, make stupid comments (and not care!), and cut that weird kid some slack because we’re not all that different. In fact, we all share a common goal that is worth more than any designer bag.