His name is Rutherford

"His name is Rutherford," I said as I held him tightly in my arms. "That's awesome" said nameless associate of mine. I reflected on my recent events involving Rutherford and realized you never really know a bear until you've beaten his heart out with an axe at least 8 times. Let me rephrase that: You never really know a stuffed bear until you've beaten his squishy heart out from underneath him with a duct tape axe at least 8 times on a stage. Oh, wait...it wasn't a stage...sorry about that. Ii was the activity room at my school and our foreign language plays were happening all day long. Unlike everybody else, I was "lucky" enough to "pick out" two plays I "wanted" to be in. I was the fearless lenador in Blanca Nieves and also the drunk and ever talkative molinero in Arrugapieles. You don't know what that means? Oh, well look it up. I don't want to explain it to you because this isn't what I want to talk about for the entire post this week. So I'll wait until you come back...ready? OK good. For the role of lenador I needed a fake heart to replace Blanca Nieves' to give to Su Alteza. Originally it was supposed to be a pig but all I had was a bear. He was sitting neatly atop my sisters pile of stuffed animals and he looked at me with the face of a familiar friend. I lifted him from his perch and reflected. He would be my replacement corazon. On the day I brought him in a friend of mine approached and requested to hold my bear. She squeezed him in a way that reminded me of myself from long ago, when eyes saw me as harmless. I'd throw my animals about and wrestle them and then apologize for fear of them attacking me in my sleep. I did think that when I was little, and, when I faux hacked him to shreds in front of a large group of disinterested jr. high schoolers, I remembered the good old days when I did this for fun, not for a lame play. As I spent more time with Rutherford, my bear's new name, I began to age backwards a little bit. I played with a pair of fake boobs for men and cried aloud, "Boobie Ssstrrrrrike!" I added just enough of a Japanese accent to make it sound even funnier than it already was. My friends burst into laughter and  I left to do something even more ridiculous. As I said, I had a handmade cardboard axe with me for my role as lenador (I still won't tell you what that is) and couldn't help but mercilessly beat the crap out of a boy I'll call Chax. I started by harmlessly punching him on the shoulder but then began to chop him to pieces with my axe. "ow, Ow, OWWW!" He cried while still half laughing. He snagged my axe from my hands and I did something he didn't expect. I launched my long spidery index finger directly into the pit of his arm. He immediately threw the axe with a squeal and fell backward onto the ground. "What's wrong with you!" he exclaimed still laughing. "Sorry," I said and immediately attacked his armpits again. He flopped about on the floor and smacked at me. I laughed harder that day then I do most of the time. The plays occupied all of two days and I wandered about Mrs. Bootleg's classroom with other students in my position. I began a game of Curses with my friends. There was Sakura, who took part in the French plays (Vaca Frances!), but there is another friend I'd now like to introduce. She's a little on the short side, but her hair will never be mistaken for another person. It is the brightest shade of red that can only be matched by her lipstick. I'm glad to have met her because she will be honest with you in all situations. She's a part of my cooking group and she knows what she's talking about when it comes to food. She cooks almost as good as she swears. I'm not going to sugar coat it, she curses like a sailor, but it's a nice change from good old, regular, highly sensitive Utah. She'll shoot you out of your happily ignorant perch in less than three seconds, but she's really a nice person, you just have to give her a chance she doesn't get from a lot of people who judge her before they know her. Anyhow, we were playing Curses and I needed to play a part in one of my plays. I returned to find her playing  with another classmate's little sister. We'll call my friend Bell. Bell looked at the small girl and barked like a dog. The girl drew her arms up under her shoulders like a T-Rex and began crying, "ham, Ham, HAM!" and shaking about. Miranda barked again and the cycle continued. They were both laughing through their ridiculous noises and I saw the spark in both their eyes that only kids have. It had worn off in most kids mine and Bell's age but it was still alive in the young girl's face. At that moment I felt that all three of us had that spark. I laughed at them and Bell turned and dropped her face onto the floor and began shaking with laughter. I threw back my head and laughed. The young girl fell onto her back and laughed as well. We had embraced the power of being ridiculous.

When I turned 15 a few weeks ago I took on new responsibilities. I began to care about things more and felt an incentive to actually do what needed to be done. I now take pride in my responsibilities and found I reason with myself better now. With those responsibilities I also acquired new emotions. Sometimes I feel diplomatic and I now insert my own opinion into conversation. One I'm not so fond of is loneliness. I do get a little lonely sometimes. That's why Rutherford means a lot to me all of a sudden. He's like another person who I can always feel comfortable around. With all this growing up going on I don't want to forget about how fun it was to be a kid.