Today I returned to school after my five days of Thanksgiving recess. I was expecting to be very tired and quite bored all day. While I was general tired, there was much more to be happy about today than I ever expected. First of all, I would like to tell you about a disturbing but important revelation which one of my peers and I reached this afternoon. I was in the school courtyard talking with my friend and fellow writer Anthony. I can hardly remember what we were talking about when Anthony mentioned Piglet, the cute and lovable best friend of Winnie the Pooh. Anthony expressed some very legitimate concerns about the countless number of panic attacks that Piglet has suffered from, all of which make him appear quite unstable. After I had agreed with him, Anthony added that, of course, Eeyore is afflicted by depression. Suddenly, an entire analysis of the Hundred Acre Wood seemed to stand before us, and together we reached the conclusion that each of these characters represents a particular psychological disorder. Obviously, we've settled two characters so far. The next is Rabbit, who is an excellent case of OCD, considering he always places the order and neatness of his garden before the concerns of his friends. Next, there is Owl, who undeniably exhibits a superiority complex. When Owl is not literally soaring about his companions in the Hundred Acre Wood, he is reading books in order preserve his role as the most brilliant thinker in the bunch. Then, we have Tigger to contend with. Two terms arose in describing Tigger's disorder, both of which are somewhat valid, in my opinion. The first was "ADD." The second was "bipolar."
Now that those characters have been set aside, we still have to deal with Winnie the Pooh himself. I feel that I hit the nail on the head when, this afternoon, I immediately described Pooh as a hedonist, which is supported by the fact that he is always looking to feed his desires (i.e., for honey) regardless of the consequences (e.g., getting so fat that he gets stuck inside a rabbit hole). Even the only human in the Hundred Acre Wood is not exempt from this myriad of psychological dismay. In fact, I would argue that he is the worst of them all. If I understand the concept of the Winnie the Pooh stories correctly, then the Hundred Acre Wood and all characters and events contained within are inside the imagination of Christopher Robin. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is called schizophrenia. If my memory is as good as I hope it is, then the only remaining characters are Kanga and Roo. In these two cases, I would especially welcome your input. Please express any feedback you may have on the arguments I have presented so far. Also, please believe me when I say that I love Winnie the Pooh just as much as anyone, and it is not my intent to degrade these characters--only to analyze them. In the case of Roo, I see a young boy who comes from a broken home and searches desperately for a father figure, which explains his attachment to Tigger. As for Kanga, I am sure that there is some disorder related to overprotective parenting that may relate to her. Again, your thoughts are welcomed. Since writing all this down, I have found an article that may soon provide support for these arguments and maybe even answers to my remaining questions--once I find time to read it, that is.
Besides all that stunning thinking that Anthony and I shared in, there were more events today that have really boosted my spirits. For example, I picked up my newly graded book report for European history, and I was delighted to see that I received an Honors on the assignment. (Again, think of it as an A if you must.) This is especially exciting if you consider that I only read approximately one sixth of the book which I wrote about, proving once again that sometimes underachieving is the right thing to do. More importantly, however, my creative essay for English class was returned to me earlier today. As you might recall, for this assignment, I chose to hand in the first five pages of a much longer story that is still in production, a story which (if I am successful in writing it) I would like to release in a short series of audio episodes (probably five or six of them). With this aspiration in mind, one can understand why I would be very concerned about whether or not this story is actually good, and of course the toughest grader in my school's English department (who happens to be my English teacher) is probably a fair judge of that, no matter how subjective writing may be. When I turned over the final page to see my grade, I had to quickly bring my hand to my mouth just to stifle what I assume would either have been laughter or some sort of joyous shriek. This grade is as good as it gets, so it is taking a lot of effort to not let it go to my head. To prevent this opportunity for conceitedness, I have chosen to focus on what this means for the whole story: I'm doing something right. Now I just have to continue doing that.