Fabulously Permanent

Kids, listen up. When your teachers and parents tell you that everything you post on the Internet stays on the Internet, they speak the truth. Unfortunately, this also holds water if someone else posts about you. Of course, I have felt the same blasting force of this truly unfair rule from the day I joined the social networking world. In middle school, I, like any other wannabe facetiously cool tween, registered for Myspace and began my journey into the world of sharing photos, messages, and interests with friends. First and foremost, I had to design a flawless profile ten times cooler and more appealing than all of my friends’. I spent an average of three hours a day creating sparkly gifs that read “ShAy FuNg” and finding songs to accurately describe my distressed emotions of the “tough” times of middle school… I went with the inspirational “The World’s Greatest” by R. Kelly. The description in my profile read somewhat like so: “The name’s Shannon but you can call me Shay, Fungy, or Shah! (If you have any other nicknames just LMK!!!!!) I hate drama, love the movies, and think Nick Jonas is really really hawt! Callertext me!” Let us call that paraphrasing because I have mostly blocked that blimp in my life out of my memory; but, I do clearly remember that I absolutely HAD to have the coolest, “selfie” as my profile picture. So, naturally I took my super enviable LG Chocolate, popped open the camera, and had a ball taking mirror pictures of myself chucking up a peace sign and pouting my lips to make the perfect I’m-so-mysterious-and-moody face. Really cool, Shannon. Really cool. After two years I apparently lost interest in the world of narcissism and deleted my profile, thank a higher power. Recently, I thanked my younger self for holding the good sense to delete those dreadful documented moments until I stumbled upon an old album on my sister’s Facebook page. Stated simply, the album consists of about twenty-five percent of my old Myspace pictures ranging from bathroom self-portraits to bird’s-eye photos of a girl wearing too much eyeliner and even more sass. Just when I thought I had escaped my past, these pictures reappeared in my life, reminding me that I can never retrieve the information I once released on the Internet, especially because my sister apparently hates my existence and wants me to die a slow social death of humiliation. Sadly, my middle school misfortunes do not end there and posts get creatively more and more embarrassing. Among the seemingly greatest sabotages (according to the popularity of favorites and likes on social networks):

     -Fourteen-year-old Shannon Fung belts a rendition of “Fabulous” by High School Musical’s Ashley Tisdale. I really encourage everyone to look up the real video on YouTube in order to fully understand how the video of me trying to reenact this scene in my room looks. I wanted fabulous, but I did not want my attempts presented to the world before my official debut.

     -Shannon Fung straight out of wisdom tooth surgery photos. Truly, my friends bombarded me merely two hours following the extremely painful removal of my wisdom teeth and approached my swollen face with a camera phone. Boom. Up on Facebook they went. I applaud you if you find them, you will surely laugh at the fact that I look exactly like Glimmer from The Hunger Games after the vicious Tracker Jackers attack her face.

To me, the Internet holds the same powers that John Keats’ urn does in his poem “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” Like the immovable pictures on the urn, the photos and videos posted of me of various social networks will never come down. They remain permanently within the realm of the Internet world now, readily available to all who search hard enough for them. The pictures on the urn will always depict the couple as young lovers and the desolate town as sacrificial just as the Internet will forever show my embarrassing antics as a young teenager. While anyone can paint over the urn’s old pictures, they will always remain underneath it all; I can paint over the pictures of my past but even I will never forget what came first: a chubby idiot.   

Because I mean like, really cool picture, Shannon.

Shannon Plus Dedication Equals Nine

I come from a seemingly long line of Fung children. I, personally, like to think of our group as “The Gang of Four;” unfortunately, a group of four Communist Chinese men previously claimed that name decades before my family’s legend began. As the youngest child, I often times find a struggle in making a name for myself under the shadows of three radiant and talented siblings. Justin, my oldest brother, reigns as the naturally brilliant, retro-hipster, Columbia student unaffected by any problem that crosses his path. Lauren, my only sister, finds her uniqueness in her ambition. The hardest worker, she always pushes her limits in determination to impress anyone that enters her life. Finally comes my second brother, Brendan. Teachers remember Brendan for his charisma- a spirit filled with optimism, wit, and the all-around awesome ability to just live life the right way. All of my superiors hold their own unique voice, separating themselves from the blob that many people often identify us as. Recently, I found myself flipping through the pages of their old binders, curious as to my own teacher’s interpretation of their past students’ differences. And, for the first time in my life, I saw that all three siblings held one common ground: An incredible talent within the realm of Ms. Serensky’s AP English class. Never in my past two years of taking this class have I seen students receive so many eights and nines on in and out of class writings. Initially, I found myself lying in fetal position in the foyer wanting to quit, believing that my own writing would never receive the appreciative “very nice!” or “excellent!” reviews from Ms. Serensky. For a few minutes, I wallowed in despair and jealousy of my siblings’ greatness;*sigh,* living the life of the youngest child never stands as an easy feat. As I walked toward the kitchen to bake away my feelings, I had a sudden epitome-WWBJD: What Would Bobbie Jo Do? Would she run away to bake delicious cupcakes instead of fighting her problems? Absolutely not! She would sit down at the computer, write a blog about her revelation, and take AP English by the horns. I plan to do the same. Picture me clad in seventies workout gear going through a montage as I knock down all of my obstacles to “Eye of the Tiger.” Like a good, old Rocky movie, the notorious lyrics by Survivor will guide me through my ambition to the top. From here on out, I plan to work under the goal of receiving a “very well-written, Shannon,”and a big, fat, awesome sticker at the top of my paper placed specifically next to the words, “Rubric Bonus +2.” Doubt me all you want but just like the heart, the mind wants what the mind wants, and I want it all (just like Ashley Tisdale in “High School Musical 3: Senior Year"). No longer will I live a perpetually sad life in the shadows of my siblings known strictly as “Life of the Party”  (already associated by Ms. Serensky under negative connotations) or “She Who Makes Good Cupcakes.” Get ready, Ms. Serensky. You should probably hit up Michael’s because your sticker collection will begin to dwindle along with the red ink in your pens from writing a mountainous amount of awe-inspired comments on my work. Through my new ambition for greatness, I hope to join my siblings in their defeat of AP English and truly become a worthy member in "The Gang of Four." Perhaps English will never hold the key to my strong suit, but I refuse to let myself fall below Ms. Serensky's preconceived expectations of quality Fung work. Putting aside the daily stresses of English, the Data Sheets, the in-class writings, and the dubious mounds of homework, the class has inspired me to push myself beyond what people expect of the girl who turns in her blogs at 11:30 at night. I do not want to leave this school as another blimp on the radar; I do not want to go down without a fight. I hope to end the year on a bed of eights and nines as Ms. Serensky congratulates me at graduation: “Shannon, you are far cooler than all of your siblings. You are without a doubt the best Fung… EVER.” 

These fantastic pictures stand as my current inspiration. Each of these come from one of my sibling's papers. Cue jealous rage. 

More Used than a Porta Potty at Blossom

I would like to ask my readers a serious question: do you like when new acquaintances use you for your personal connections or take advantage of your tolerant and helpful personality? Personally, I do not; however, Nick Carraway seems careless when his new neighbor “friend,” Jay Gatsby, chooses to execute a plan using Nick to achieve his goal. Surprisingly, to me, we did not address this situation in class while I see it as a large complication in both the characterizations of Nick and Gatsby. From the start of Fitzgerald’s novel, Nick adamantly shows his fascination in Gatsby and his desire to befriend his new neighbor. Nick finds solace in Gatsby’s genuine kindness and devotion to creating a strong friendship, later destroyed by Gatsby’s revealed intentions of befriending Nick to enhance his chances with his ex-lover. After pursuing Nick with trips to the city, rides on his boat, and extravagant parties, Gatsby indirectly asks Nick to host afternoon tea and to invite his cousin, Daisy (78). Initially, I felt that Fitzgerald evoked sympathetic pathos from readers who have experienced the same feelings of distress after discovering the true purpose of a hurtful friendship; however, Nick’s only response shows his dedication to helping Gatsby at any cost: “the modesty… shook me” (78). Disappointment filled me as Nick overlooks his neighbor’s rudeness and apparent claim to superiority. In both the West Egg and East Egg, Nick holds only few friends among a community of self-centered and fake people: Gatsby tricked Nick with his façade. Did no one else feel the devastation of such a seemingly awesome character turning evil at the prospect of love? Or even the immediate recall of masculinity by Nick as he allows Gatsby’s “plea” to turn into a demand? A classic case of commensalism, perhaps even an alpha male of the pack situation. In Layman’s terms, Gatsby benefits from Nick’s tolerant personality while he, himself, reaps none of the rewards. This external conflict proves problematic for me: I no longer have a protagonist to cheer on. Not Gatsby, for he holds the characteristics of an unfaithful friend. Not Nick, for he shows weakness and inevitable failure. At this point, I can only hope that both men see their flawed figures and attempt to fix their disturbing definition of friendship. I may show extreme passion in this seemingly small event; yet, I believe that I would have responded quite differently to the request. How? With an absolute “no.” Hosting afternoon tea would entail me to clean and you can bet, I will not clean prior to an answer to my question, “what’s in it for me?”