Sometimes it is found sitting precariously in the middle of the road, only to infuriate passing drivers.  You carefully wrap it up just to be torn open in a flash of paper and color. You could find refuge in one from the rain.  You may have to slice it open or somehow yank staples out of it.  You generally see more on your birthday and at Christmas, or if you order something new it might end up in one on your doorstep.  You could eat a picnic on or in one, or if it's strong enough you could sit on it.  It may be your pet's favorite plaything.  It could be the stage for a puppet show.  It may hold your dirtly laundry.  You can fold the flaps in or stack things on top to keep it shut.  You can flatten it and slide down a snowy hill on it.  You can turn it into a rocketship, a mask, a wagon, a costume.  You carefully store away your belongings in it to move or keep safe. It can be full of bubble wrap or colorful packing peanuts.  You find the electric outlet in it. It can carry a new computer monitor, or junk you'd like to donate.  If a man loves a woman he might give her one. You gather fruit in it and load it onto trucks. You get new shoes in it. It can be of cardboard, paper, wood, plastic, leather, metal, concrete. It is used in businesses, schools, homes, stores.  You can carry pets in it.  You can bury things and people in it.  It can be any color.  It can have stripes or polka-dots, or it could even be transparent.  It can have a bow or string, stickers or paint, letters or arrows, decorative wrappings or nothing.  It can be plain or fancy, contain something beautifully wonderful, or horendously distasteful, something very sentimental or then again, nothing at all.  It can be bigger than your refrigerator, or small as your fingernail.  But in some ways, at least, it is always the same.  A box will always have a top and bottom, four sides and eight pointy corners.  It can always contain something and is a very curious, yet simple thing.

She seems to think the world belongs to her and will happily put what she wants directly into her hands. She expects you to kneel before her carefully and lovingly, and devoutly allow her to crush your fingers into the dirt. Despite being young and naive, she believes to tower above those older and wiser than her just because she's experienced some of the rougher sides of life. So she's been hurt! Who hasn't cried? Who hasn't had their heart torn out and shredded before their eyes? We all belong to the same world that sometimes crushes our biggest dreams and turns our heroes and hopes into lies and empty fantasies. Perhaps she simply hasn't yet come to that realization and therefore is prisoner to her heartache and anger. Rather than despise her rotten spectacle of almighty dominion and power, what would happen if I simply tried to understand where she's coming from and exercise sympathy? Would patience and love accomplish anything or would she only continue to stample down everyone close to her? How does one help others to see what they are doing wrong in a kindly and decent manner? "Teaching them a lesson" rarely accomplishes the desired result, therefore, what does it take? Even with children it always takes something different to form a correct behavior. Some people simply need example, others need discipline, others need lecture, some need love and attention, some need to simply keep busy and have lots of activity to distract from bad behavior. But it can be so much easier to retaliate in anger.

clown: a comic performer who wears outlandish costume and entertains in exaggerated or rediculous fashion.

When we think of clowns we might picture the circus, a bright red nose, big feet, juggling, mismatched clothing, a large smile painted in vibrant colors and silly tricks. Clowns are generally meant to entertain the public, to make people laugh and stare in awe. They often do tricks or act like fools to catch your attention. What good is a clown if he blends in to the crowd, wears boring clothing, or isn't well equipped with red balls, tricks and jokes? Why is the clown expected to humiliate himself in attempt to keep us laughing? Who is this guy anyway? Does anyone recognize him under all that face paint and the goofy wig? I wonder what he really thinks and feels. I can't tell if he is truly smiling under the large, fake, paint-cracked grin. Surely he is only doing his job. Do you think he even enjoys it? Do you think he is laughing or is he sick of all his old tricks?

We may not see clowns on an everyday basis, but I see people everywhere who have adopted many similar traits and abilities. We may not be expected to act like fools or juggle in parks, but we succumb to many social and cultural expectations despite what we may truly desire to do or be. Perhaps our face paint isn't white and red, but instead we cover our flaws and paste on a smile when really we aren't happy. We may not wear a wig, but we can paint our hair any color we wish and cut it to any form the most modern magazines suggest. We don't generally dress in oversized overalls or plaid shirts with mismatched buttons and frilly collars, but we keep up with all the movie stars and famous singers and will happily put on whatever hideous apparel they say is "in". We form ourselves to the demands of society, acting like everyone wants us to, and putting our own hopes and dreams on the backburner to first fulfill the popular demands that encumber us.

What would the world be like if we weren't afraid of not "fitting in"? What if it were ok to dress as we like without adjusting our fashions to those of others? Should we all wear the same hairstyles and use the same customs? To what degree can we practice individuality without suffering the scorn of modern fashion? Why be something you don't necessarily want to be, or why act a certain way only to fit in? Can we still befriend those of differing customs and get along just fine? Where do we draw the line?

In the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips. -author unknown

There is nothing in life like a sister... or even better, two! They are the people who best understand you, your past, what you like and loathe, and who you really are. No matter how much they can irritate you, you know they are always there for you and always will be. We are especially interesting sisters.
Hannah is my complete opposite and was once my arch-enemy, yet now we are best friends and have since found that we have a lot more in common than we thought. She's the one I teased about martians leaving a little surprise on the sink one night, the one who I've fought with more than anyone else on the planet, and who can infuriate me more than maniac driving and dumb boys, yet who can make me feel more at home and happy than any other soul alive. She's the one who fought with me in front of the bishop to my greatest humiliation, the one who laughs at my utterly blond rediculousness, remembers me getting gum stuck all over my hands and face in the back of dad's car one day, the one who fights with me over what to name the truck and who's it is, the one who loves to leave the library with towering stacks of fantastic books giggling over who might see us and think we're book nerds, well, we are! She loves to go with me to antique shops and look at the old books and piano music with aging pages that smell of old dreams come true and young girls' hopes. Who better to count with? I love her with my whole soul and laugh at the many many times I was sure we'd never talk again and that we'd always share a perfect hatred for each other.
Kelsey, on the other hand, is more like me. In a lot of ways she resembles me, not only in looks, but also in personality. While Hannah is a crazy social butterfly and a crazy flirt, Kelsey is more quiet and reserved. While Hannah wants to excel in drama, music and singing, is a beautiful actress and loves poetry, Kelsey wants to save all the dogs and birds, be a marine biologist and gets pretty near perfect grades. She loves many of the things that I do, such as animals, drawing, painting, playing in the band, marching band, going running, being outdoors and active, etc. She's also the world's sweetest person. She's a great peacemaker. When Hannah and I fought, Kelsey tried to calm us down and help us understand eachother. She's the silly one who flops out of bed in the night, crawls across the floor, flips on the light and climbs back in fast asleep, leaving me on the top bunk to try to figure out why there's suddenly a burst of light and no desire to leave the warm covers and kill it. She goes running with me and listens to funny music like jazz and other odd stuff I've never heard. She could probably save the world with her big heart and loves to volunteer at the animal shelter. She's more patient than you'd think is possible and is quite the little lady.
You know life is good when you have two of your favorite people in the world to tell your secrets, your problems, your sad stories, and your good news. I can't wait til Christmas to visit them!