“Ding,” the doorbell announces as I lumber into LA Juice Company. The fresh aroma of tart fruit, juice, and wheatgrass refreshes the senses in my nostrils; the cool air conditioning dries up the pouring sweat on my skin from an exhausting cross-country workout. I gaze up at the menu, “I'll have a PCH please, but instead of mango can you split it up into apple and cranberry? Thanks.” I stand back and converse with friends while watching the craftsman create my delectable drink. “Whirr”, the fruit, soft frozen yogurt, and cool crunchy ice get blended into a soft pink mush; my mouth waters. While he is pouring it into a distinct Styrofoam cup, I drop a crisp dollar bill into the jar that reads, “Tips, Tips, Tips.” After closing my wallet, I ask my friend, “If I don't do it, who will?”

There are many things in life that are defined by the big grandeur and ambiance of fascinating circumstance. Everyone is amazed at fancy opera houses and fantastic football stadiums, awed at witnessing a breathtaking concert, jittery at seeing big politicians and celebrities; you know, the big things. Not me. I notice the little things in life. I look deeper into the whole scheme of things, looking past the bureaucracy and onto the other side: I see what goes on behind the scenes.

I live my life by this mentality. I go about my day like anyone else. I go to school, come back from school, do homework, eat dinner, and go to bed, but many people fail to realize what goes on behind closed doors on a daily basis. They don't stop to think about that backbreaking labor construction workers put into building that opera house. They don't stop to empathize with the janitors that stay for hours after the football game to clean up peanut shells and empty beer bottles. They don't realize for an instant the time and money that goes into putting on a concert for their entertainment.

I believe the world cannot get anywhere without looking at the smaller, hidden aspects of life. The people that work underground to do our dirty work for us deserve reward and gratitude. Nothing happens until something moves, and until I do my seemingly insignificant job of putting a dollar bill into a tip jar at local smoothie parlor, nothing will happen. The world is not built upon stilts of glory and extravagance, but rather upon the firm slow rolling ball of helpfulness and simplicity. Without a small nudge to move that ball, the world collapses from pitiful arrogance and unsympathetic personality.