My raisin and me

I've been staring at this blank page for the past.... well, I won't admit how long I've been staring at this blank page. Let's just say it's been a while. Damn writer's block!

It's been far too long since my last post, so I will fix this situation by presenting another blast from the past. That's right, folks. "Classic Roberto" is back! It's been a while since the last one, hasn't it? If I don't have the time to write an original post, then I might as well bring out some of my past writings from limbo.

Today's piece is a bit of creative writing I did back in journalism school. We had to eat a raisin and describe the experience. It was supposed to teach us some sort of lesson about writing, but I'm not sure any of us actually learned something. All I know is that I don't care for raisins and here was this man telling me, "Here. Stick this in your mouth.*"

Enjoy!

Cheers,

- R

* Yes, I am very much aware of how filthy this sounds. I love a good double-entendre, don't you?


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I’ve never felt more self-conscious about eating a raisin. I’ve also never put much thought, or any thought for that matter, into my experience with a raisin. It’s not often someone tells me to eat a raisin and be in the moment. Moment? What moment? Usually I just put them in my mouth and that is the end of it.

Well, actually, I never eat raisins… unless they are covered in chocolate. I find that most foods simply taste better when they are covered in chocolate, or fried. But I digress. Back to the raisin.

It goes in my mouth and I realize how similar the texture is to that of a rubber band. “How do you know what a rubber band tastes like?” you say. To that I reply, “I was curious.”

I chew the tiny dark fruit for what seems like an eternity. It’s amazing how long you can make a single raisin last. Spending so much time chewing a raisin is also a bit awkward. I can feel the raisin’s tart gooey innards slowly seeping out of the wrinkly, rubbery exoskeleton.

The awkwardness continues as that same rubbery and wrinkly texture inexplicably reminds me of “The Golden Girls.” Now it’s just uncomfortable. “Oh God, I’m eating Sophia!”

I can never look at a raisin the same way again. At least, one that isn’t covered in chocolate.