YCLF: You Can't Live Forever

Eighteen: a small number when looked at on a number line to infinity, a large number when looked at in regards to a lifetime. Yet, infinity remains a number of years unknown to mankind and the Guinness Book of World Records. As the clock approached twelve this morning, I found myself in a panic as the last seconds of my childhood slipped between my fingers. Memories flashed across my mind: the time I fell asleep while tying my shoes, the time I ate croutons off of every salad plate in a restaurant, and even the time I stuck tweezers in an electrical outlet. Yes, thinking about the past eighteen years has evoked a large dose of nostalgia into my life today; however, as I delved into the work of F. Scott Fitzgerald in The Great Gatsby, four words turned my frown upside down: “’you can’t live forever’” (36). Spoken by Myrtle, she reflects on her initial thoughts as she decides to take a chance and make a huge risk in her life. As I absorbed this claim, I realized that dwelling in my awesome past would not help the transition into adulthood. I have to brace my new age, new responsibilities, and the new expectations set by the people around me; yet, how can I embrace this shift in the times without losing the values of childhood that I already cherish? I must synthesize my old ways with my new expectations. I will not give up my desire to live in a land of no consequences forever. I will buy my Powerball Lottery Tickets (thirty dollars worth of tickets to be exact) and I will get as many tattoos and piercings as I want (which will probably amount to zero due to my irrational fear of blood). Why? Because, I can make my own decisions as an adult, despite if they seem stupid or ridiculous to the outside world. I cannot live forever. Life encourages me to go out into the world with an open mind and a desire to take risks and make mistakes. Today, I learned that no curse lies in aging, only promise for a more exciting tomorrow. Unlike Myrtle, I will not commit adultery. Like Myrtle, I will take chances to fulfill my life while I still have the opportunity. Eighteen rocks and the time has come to embrace my new freedoms. 

A Dash of Devotion

Dear Ms. Serensky,

I wish to prove your preconceived notions about my recent superlative award, "Life of the Party," wrong. On the morning of Homecoming, I entered the cafeteria to meet you in my groggy and slow state of mind. While you blamed my fatigue on my "secretive nature" and Friday-night-antics, I knew the real reason for the bags under my eyes: a temptress by the name of the Food Channel. For years, she has used her almighty influence to destroy every last ounce of my own willpower. Every night, her replays of Cupcake Wars forbid me to complete any assignments and beg for me to cater to their deliciousness. How can I possibly resist? The episodes entertain me for a few hours; yet, I still have not stated the real reason for my... um... occasional days of pure exhaustion. With my right hand on my heart and my head to the ground, I shamefully admit that once the first batch of fresh cupcakes appear on my screen, I cannot withstand my shutter-inducing need to bake these scrumptious delectables in my own kitchen. With this in mind, I find that I can relate to the crazed speaker from "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe. No, I do not plan on ravenously murdering an old man because he has a vulture-eye; however, I believe that we relate on the conceptual level of needing to fulfill our plans. Throughout the short story, Poe makes the clear assertion that once an idea becomes implanted in an individual's mind, it becomes difficult to ignore until someone has fulfilled the deed. Like myself, the dedicated man claims, "the idea... haunted me day and night" (3). By personifying "the idea," I feel as if he understands my unexplainable and incurable duty to address the nagging idea in my mind after watching Cupcake Wars. By no means do I advocate his violence and, well, illegal actions; however, I find his powerlessness in denying himself pleasure very intriguing and relatable. I so desperately wish that my devotion to fulfill my conscious mind's priority list held schoolwork in the top spot. But, I have discovered that when I bake batches of cupcakes before completing work, my mind temporarily lets go of all the stresses caused by school, sports, and work. My mind prioritizes baking because it brings me peace and joy, not unlike the initial feelings that the satisfied speaker feels after his expulsion of the bothersome eye. We both have a secret passion unseen by the public until our own admittance of our separate guilty pleasures: I love cupcakes and the murderer loves tearing human limbs from their sockets. Perhaps our superficial features do not match up, but together we fall victim to Poe's assertion that people suffer under the temptations of individual happiness. Yes, I have released my secret to the public. I cannot avoid and I have stayed home more than a few times on Friday nights to experiment with recipes while my peers "hit the town." So, Ms. Serensky, the next time you see me in a reverie in the hallway, you will know the real reason. They call me Shannon Fung, "Life of the Cupcake Aficionado Party."

Sincerely,
I just made (if I do say so myself) an impeccable batch of Cookies 'n' Cream cupcakes.