In Which I Have Fun With Behavioral Analysis

Empty Chocolate Box

If life is like a box of chocolates
I can only assume it's meant to be devoured
rapidly, and wholeheartedly,
the pretty gold foil of childhood eagerly discarded
to get to the good stuff.
And when the first layer of goodness
is gone
you realize all too suddenly
you only have half left
and even though it's true
there's some marzipan in your past
and in your future,
waiting to take you by surprise
with its clash of soapy texture
and a hint of bitterness
you know it's going to be worth it
when you get to the richness of the truffles.
But those are for another time;
right now you're full of it all
and on the brink of sickness,
so you try to put back the layer of gold
even though it doesn't sit quite straight
and rattles around on top
of a cheap and empty plastic tray.

Poem:
Today's prompt was: pick an object and write a prose poem about it. Use any memories it may provoke and make comparisons in your description. The putting back of the gold top is supposed to represent a midlife crisis, but I'm not sure that comes through. I like extended metaphor, so I tried it out here. Let me know what you think!

Observation:
Today's observation was prompted by my bus driver. There was an amazingly large crowd of people waiting at the stop, and not all of them could fit on the bus. Knowing this sometimes happens, the bus company puts two buses on the route during busy times. So there's little chance of those people being left there, but they don't seem to know that. They all look aroundf confused as they come to the realization that there really isn't any way for them to cram themselves on. I'm already getting to know some people a little better than I was expecting while I was waiting next to them at the stop. So anyway, the bus driver lets almost everyone on the bus, and then the last two or three people are left on the curb as he pulls away. They look pretty sad, but to top it all off, he gives them a thumbs up.
Now, the fact that they found this reassuring amazed me. It seems there are some gestures out there that are so internalized, so universal, that they carry with them an inherent sense that everything is going well. I imagined the same situation, except without another bus on the way. I wonder how long that sense of reassurance would last. Would they turn to each other and say "No, it has to be okay. He gave us a thumbs up. No way this could turn out poorly." So the next time you want to get away with stranding someone somewhere, I guess just give them a thumbs up as you leave. The chances of them chasing after you are pretty slim. They'll probably stand wherever they are waiting for you to come back for quite some time. The thumbs-up, I have decided, is a pretty powerful gesture.

Exercise:
"The Ironic Fortune Cookie"
The fortune in the fortune cookie read: "Elegant surroundings will soon be yours." This turned out to be ironic. How so?

George pocketed his fortune and left the restaurant, eager to find out if it would prove to be accurate. "Elegant surroundings will soon be yours." He certainly hoped so. Of course, that's what the fortune-writing people expected of him. It's not like they'd put out fortunes about inelegant surroundings, or say that, while the elegant surroundings sure were spectacular this time of year, they just weren't in his future at the moment. But despite having this knowledge, he was optimistic. It was a typical midwestern winter, and the wind was whipping the snow into a moderate frenzy. The waves of white washing across the black of the road were pretty viewed from the warmth of his car. Always the practical driver, he kept an eye on the lights ahead. He noticed the next one turning yellow for the cross traffic, and, as usual (and slightly proud of himself), he didn't bother braking. Sure enough, it turned green just as he got to the intersection.
The man in the Dodge Charger, on the other hand, was much less cognizant of the light's duration. He skidded through the intersection, having only noticed the yellow light at the last minute, and as he slammed on the brakes, he met harshly with the side of George's Ford Focus. George had a brief flash of thought: "At least I know the hospital will have some elegance to it." The paramedics that arrived on the scene a while later had the man from the Charger immobilized and were optimistic that the damage to his neck would respond well to treatment. And George was buried in one of the most elegant graves in the nearby cemetery.

Me:
Throughout my life people have told me to think before opening my mouth. Recently I have decided this has never been my problem. The problem is what I think about before opening my mouth. See, I'm not thinking about whether or not I should open it. That's taken as a given. The thought process is more of an anticipation game. So rather than "what are the advantages and disadvantages of opening my mouth in this particular situation," I'm thinking "So when I say such-and-such, it's likely it will provoke a certain reaction, so I should have a response ready for that, but if they react this other way, I should be able to say something else." I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been following directions for all these years. I give what I say a great deal of thought. I'm just not prioritizing correctly.