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I Am Like a Burrito
Tortilla: God is the tortilla of my life. Call Him whatever you want – Savior, Shepherd, Father – I'll just stick with tortilla. He's the thin skin that protects me and holds me. If I screw up, I know that my tortilla will be there for me, no matter what.
Rice: You can reach me by mail, just address the letter straight to my town. This sheltered bubble is the place I call home. It's where I brush my teeth and paint my nails. It's where I munch on black bean salsa from Kramer's and create spontaneous YouTube videos. Feel like watching shiny Mercedes sports cars pull into long driveways? Care for a fine wine tasting party at the Laney's? Come on down to my lovely ZIP code. It's the classiest rice around.
Beans: Upon entering the double doors of my high school on my first day, I saw masses of students threatening to re-create the stampede scene from “The Lion King.” Oh, geez, I thought. And, 952 days later, I still feel the same way each time I walk into school. I'm just one of the thousands of students. I'm just another bean. A bean with flavor extraordinaire.
Chicken: Greenish-blue eyes. Chocolate brown hair. Five feet, seven-and-a-half inches. Yep, that's me. I can't touch my tongue to my nose, but I can stretch my toes to unbelievable distances. Sports aren't exactly my thing, so I lack bicep muscles. Could that be why I've never been able to pass the pull-up test? I guess from the outside, I'm just an average piece of chicken. But don't worry: I've got wings, and some day I'll be the first chicken to fly.
Mild salsa: The girl who cuts my hair told me that I'm pleasant. Pleasant!? I thought, suddenly the victim of a complete and utter mental meltdown. I clung to the sides of the black vinyl chair, trying to wrap my head around the dullness of her diction. Sure, I'm nice and all, but couldn't she have chosen a spicier word? Like brilliant. Or dazzling. I would have been happy with that. Oh, well. I guess a mild salsa personality isn't so bad.
Cheese: “Melanie, would you mind reading your paper aloud to the class?” Ever since my second grade teacher told me that I had a knack for writing, I've devoted my time to words. My friends practiced cheerleading and painted pictures; I wrote stories. Every time I open a blank Microsoft Word document, I swear I can hear angels singing the Hallelujah chorus. Cheese is the glue that holds my ideas together.
Lettuce: Every year on January first, I sit down in front of my iMac and come up with 10 New Year's resolutions. No more, no less. From trivial to incredibly meaningful, my goals reflect who I am and who I'd like to be. Number 10 on the list? Get into Northwestern. If my dreams are lettuce, then Northwestern is the greenest leaf.
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 11 comments.
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Listen, I know that you tried your best, but this really isn't that good. Your entire essay, if it can be called that, is one overextended metaphor and a lot of the pieces of that metaphor make no sense. True, you may want to use a metaphor in the beginning, but after that's done you have to go and give the essay some substance. You can come back to it at the end, but leave it alone in the middle.
Also, this essay makes you seem like a wholly unappealing person. You flip back and forth between "I am a special little snowflake," and "I guess I'm just totally normal." Now, totally normal girls don't get the big bucks to go to college, the amazing ones do. So if you are truly a very special person, you should show it in your essay. Don't make yourself look like a Mary Sue.
I know that you're a writer, and that should tell you that you can't just write a gimmick, but that's exactly what you did. If you write like this all the time, I would suggest getting a very good friend, or a good anonymous person on the Internet, to look it over, because you could use some work avoiding clichés and giving things substance.
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Hey, I have no idea why it doesn't have the little 'MAG' symbol next to your name, cause you totally made it.
Out of all the articles I read in that month's edition, yours stuck out to me the most.
You obviously have a knack for writing, and even though this isn't labled as poetry, I think that it should be.
Anyone who can be this poetic about her life when referring to a burrito is an amazing poet! An author tells, a poet describes.
P.S. I don't know your personality, but I would say that your writing stile has some brilliance to it.
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