The Power of Shoes....

Shoes, you ask? What kind of superpowers could shoes have?

Consider the power to give a young girl born without sight the chance to walk in Neil Armstrong’s shoes, allowing her a view of the world that few of us will ever have. The power of shoes could benefit a boy with cerebral palsy. I could give him the control he so desperately desires in allowing him to walk, or rather, run and jump in Michael Jordan’s Nike’s or to glide along the ice in Michelle Kwan’s skates.

I could easily turn the anger and violence of prominent KKK and pro-Nazi organizations upside-down in making them wear the shoes of a poor, 19th century black man stripped of his clothes and dignity, or perhaps those of a young, Jewish mother who watches her children starve to death in a German death-camp.

I could give the drug-addicted the freedom of rehabilitated shoes. Well-fed shoes would rain down on the poor. Young-at-heart shoes would wait in the mailboxes of the elderly. Shoes of peace could march war veterans out of their inescapable memories.

And to the young child left paralyzed because of a drunk driver, I would simply give walking shoes.

We come from all walks of life, traveling different paths to infinite experiences. We could share with each other these experiences of our humanity by the mere sharing of our shoes.

That’s the power I want.

The ability to morph into anything is my superpower.

Why you ask?

Have you ever had five kids?

I am the nurse, the doctor, the cook, the taxi, except at prom...then I am the limo driver. I am the banker, I am the teacher, I am the doll the girls dress up and the wrestling dummy for the athlete. I am the maid, the pool cleaner, the warden when they are grounded and the handyman when they break things. I am the referee, the coach, the beauty consultant, and fashion designer. I am the psychologist, the prenatal coach, the wedding planner and the caterer.

And when I am tired of hearing “Mom, I need you,” “Mom, take me to the mall,” “Mom, I need money,” I am the dog.

“Stop! I command you to stop in the name of chocolate ganache meringues!!!”

Slowing first to cast a curious glance behind them, the thieves finally turned, shooting me a scoffing, scornful smirk. Admittedly, my fruitcake-Kevlar composite flak vest was a poor complement to my beer-battered beef ball earmuffs, but shouldn’t fashion be abandoned in the face of danger? Besides, a superhero has got a job to do, and with my considerable cooking superpower, I had set out to do just that, fashioning weapons from preposterously punning alliterative accessories, and vowing to battle not only the injustice of wilted arugula and deflated soufflé, but also the immorality and depravity of crime. So, against the unwitting criminals, I launched the first of the peppermint brittle grenades with my Bazooka machine gum, and followed it frantically with flaming fruit fricassee. And thus ensued a fierce struggle--Operation Dessert Storm.

Once the final Korean-BBQ-smoke bomb cleared, the victor was immediately obvious; the two thieves flailed fruitlessly, ensnared in a mire of Black Forest torte and raspberry cabernet glace. Their eyes watered with what I had hoped was repentance but, I reluctantly conceded, could probably be attributed to the stinging kimchee tear gas coupled with the indignity of being beaten by a honey-cured ham bludgeon. And so I once again triumphed against evil--today criminals, tomorrow the tyranny of overcooked steak and burnt caramel fudge.

A Superpower Short Story

Last night, I dreamt a haunting dream. I dreamt that there was a machine that could give people any one thing they wanted. Lines instantly formed. Some asked for precognition. They predicted tumultuous times ahead. Others asked for money. But money was rendered useless due to abundance. People asked for power. Soon, many wars broke out among them. Others asked for ignorant bliss, and lived a life nullified from any pain.

Soon there was no death and no pain. Life was hauntingly surreal. Most wandered aimlessly, having accomplished what they thought were their wildest dreams. In this sense, everyone was lost in their quest to do what the thought they truly wanted.

Suddenly it was my turn. I thought for a while, and I knew. My superpower, then, was the ability to illuminate peoples’ true desires and the paths they should take, but had otherwise forgotten.

I set out, discovering that at the heart of everyone was the desire for good, and that each had a singular dream to fulfill. People soon recognized that the machine had stolen the significance of this dream.

Realizing the evil of the machine, the population soon began to dismantle it. People dropped from the skies, losing the ability to fly. Others died, the natural equalizer of life being back in power. As I had always wanted to know my own path, I turned introspectively to ask myself, but I too had lost my power. I woke up, disappointed.

WARNING! The contents that you are about to read contain multiple secrets that, if revealed, could result in bad luck for the rest of your life. You have been warned, so continue reading if you dare.

No one in the world knows the huge secret that I am about to reveal to you. I have kept this a secret for seventeen years from my friends and family. You are the lucky person who gets to know the ultimate secret of the universe. I am a Superhero! If the world found out about my powers, my life would be destroyed. I would never get to experience a normal college life. My happiness lies in your hands.

I am a superhero with the power to turn into steel. This steel is sturdy, bullet proof, and unbreakable. Because of this ability, I have never broken a bone in my entire life. This steel will come in handy in college because it will always serve as a reminder to me. When I am being peer pressured, the steel will symbolize the steadfastness of my beliefs and allow me to say “No!” with conviction. It will remind me that I am impenetrable, and no words can break my spirit. In times of immense pressure, this reminder comes in handy. I hope to use this power to be a symbol and a leader for other college students. I want to show them that they too can be “steel-proof” and just say no to peer pressure.

“It’s too soon, Mom. I can’t do it alone.” There was no response, no word of comfort as I stared at the grey headstone. A fat drop of rain hit me on the nose, cold and unpleasant. The downpour broke as I turned to go. Every street was dark and empty. I proceeded down a narrow alley in hopes of a little more shelter, not that I could feel much anyway. The numbness from the inside had soaked its way outward.
“I can give you what you’re looking for.” An unfamiliar voice broke through my daze. In a ramshackle doorway leaned a woman in strangely bright dress.
“What?”
“Come inside.” Without thought I followed. The room was dim and lined with shelves of bottles and jars. She handed me a tiny cup and motioned for me to drink.
“What is this?”
“Time. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” My face clenched as the bitter liquid worked.
“What are you doing, Dear?”
“Mom? Is that you?”
“Of course it is.”
“But you . . . you’re dead.”
“Only physically. Now, wasn’t there something you wanted?”
“I need your help, Mom. I need your advice; I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t be silly. All you need to do is. . .”
“Mom?” I sprang forward. Gone. The strange woman stared at me. I held out the cup.
“I need more time!”
She put her finger to my heart. “The power over time is in here.”

It‘s a cold, crisp New York City morning. Head guard Joe Schmoe at the Museum of Modern Art has just started his morning rounds and, much to his surprise, he finds a certain masterpiece by Salvador Dali has gone missing. A light outline of dust remains where the classic melting clocks once were portrayed in all of their decomposing glory.

Meanwhile in 1907, on a very similar day in Vienna, a young Adolf Hitler walks down the street with his less-than-decent portfolio tucked snugly under his arm. Suddenly, a curly-haired teenager bumps into him, sending young Adolf‘s paintings flying every which direction. Muttering an apology in a strange accent, the boy helps him pick up all of his papers, and young Hitler continues on his way down the street towards the Vienna School of Art for his hopeful admission into the University‘s prestigious ranks.

Thumbing through self-portrait after self-portrait, the Dean of Admissions can‘t help but think that this young boy is much wirier and droller than he drew himself. Reaching for his giant red “denied” stamp, the Dean suddenly stumbles upon something extraordinary. Stuttering with amazement, the Dean asks the apparent prodigy what he calls this f-f-fine work. Confused but elated, Adolf Hitler is accepted.

So as the Holocaust never came to be, we eternally enjoy the classic painting “Deez Clocks, Dey Are Melting Ja” by Adolf Hitler, 1907. A fair trade off, most would say. All thanks to a boy, a boy with a very special power.

You‘re Blushing!

My health teacher entered the room on that fateful day in eighth grade, holding a plastic bag brimful of immense plantains . . . and condoms. I squirmed nervously in my seat. My then heart-throb sat with his friends looking utterly calm. The teacher demonstrated the process of “deploying” a condom using an enormous plantain, and then passed out the remaining giants to pairs of students. My friend and I sat immobilized, each attempting to convince the other that she should do the deed. Finally, I snatched up the plantain and attempted to slide on the tiny piece of latex. Suddenly, I felt the condom rolling back up under my fingers. I let go -- the condom sprung off the plantain, bounced off my forehead, and plunged down my blouse. My face blushed intensely as I fished out the condom, my friend laughing hysterically and my crush grinning. Still, I summoned my resolve and completed the task.

How would I use my ability to travel through time? I would travel back to this event and others like it -- not to erase them but to record them. These are the moments that have shaped my character the most -- many related to sexual identity. Today I am committed to the fight for ready access to birth control. If I were able to re-experience these pivotal moments, it would strengthen my confidence and deepen my passion for reproductive freedom. At the very least, I would have a good laugh.

 

In my mind, there‘s no greater tragedy than the death of an artist. History‘s greatest artists, in the era they lived, were thought as indestructible, impervious to sickness or death. Looking at a Dali replica, or reading Emerson, or listening to John Coltrane, my heart sinks as I realize that I won‘t have the privilege to meet them. If I was given the gift of time manipulation, I would use it to go back in time and give that morose old fool Edgar Allen Poe a hug or two, and tell him to “for God sake, lay off the whiskey.” Or perhaps trade sax mouthpieces with Paul Desmond and make sure to leave him a few nicotine patches after a short chat with Brubeck over coffee, discussing what in the world inspired him to write in a nine-eight time signature. I‘d go back and introduce Walt Whitman and Henry Thoreau to an amazing invention called the Gillette razor, hopefully get rid of their grizzly beards. If I want to satiate my curiosity, I would go way back to George Orwell‘s childhood and leave him a copy of the Communist Manifesto, just to see if he‘d still write Animal Farm. But of course I would be but a villain if I didn‘t travel backwards in time and tell Shakespeare to stop shoving apostrophes and accent marks in words where they don‘t belong, before I get HIM to a nunnery!

The skies are piercing blue, pristine and cloudless. The weather is balmy and comfortable, what is expected for the start of summer. Yet to the crowd gathered here today, everything is a shade of gray, and all around is suppressing heat. Funerals tend to feel this way.

We stand with our heads bowed, pretending to listen to the epitaph but in actuality busy with our own thoughts. I only hear traces of the speaker‘s words: kind and caring? mother of three? was only 43? lung cancer?

And I imagine that these kinds of things happen everyday, that people die and leave a lot behind. But then I think to myself, why does it have to happen to someone I know? And then I feel very selfish indeed.

I clench my fists and squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out all sounds around me, compressing myself until there is a ringing in my ears...

Then, I see her, lying on the couch, cigarette held casually between two fingers. She sees me and smiles warmly, and beckons me over with a wave of her arm.

I will be brave today. I approach her and place my hand in hers. “Please, put down that cigarette...”

As I crawl from the depths of the cave, magic lamp in my hands, I stop to rest in a small alcove. I muster the courage to give it a rub. Suddenly, a whirlwind gusts through the room, sweeping the lamp from my grasp and into levitation! Afraid and excited, I duck for shelter until the wind subsides. Once the dust settles, I rise to face a giant mirror, framed in polished antique gold, much like the now absent magic lamp. Confused, I slowly approach the mirror. As I get closer, the reflection begins to swirl and words are forming in its place. Now before me, framed instructions. “One mind, you may see. Choose wisely,” it reads. I hesitate for only a moment, until an image of Samantha appears in my mind. I haven’t said it aloud yet, but already the mirror begins to swirl yet again. In this moment, I am afraid. What will I find in the mind of a small child, unable to speak? Before I can ponder the answer, the mirror becomes still. The image within it is breathtaking. I see a glorious pink sunset atop a lakeside reflection and I am instantly at peace. A relieving warmth overtakes my mind and soul. Although having endured a horribly devastating loss in the battle against cancer as a mere infant, I know now that she is happy. She is wrapped in comfort, peace and love. A calming feeling of understanding overwhelms me as a single tear falls.

I feel the cold sting as my hands pitter-patter against the linoleum. I am almost there! I race forward to get there before I am discovered. Victory! I climb up onto my knees and dig in to the wet soil. I giggle at the cool sensation on my skin and clump the dirt in my little palms as I open my mouth wide. “No-no!” I hear as I am suddenly yanked away! I pout as I am placed back where I started annoyed to have my fun interrupted. I wind up making my disappointment known, but oh wait, what is that over there? I speed off again as I catch a glimpse of something brown. I giggle as I pull back into my own mind and watch my son crawl after his favorite teddy. In the last ten days, since the appearance of my new superpower, I have rediscovered the joy in simple things: the vividness of color, the comfort of waking up to a loved one, the freedom in movement, the texture of food, the melody of life’s daily rhythms. Even when not tapped in to my son’s mind, I find myself noticing how blue the sky is and taking the extra minute to greet my neighbor. I’ve found the true fountain of youth, through the mind of a child. All I needed was a reminder.

The lights fall dramatically across the dimly lit stage. Just two of us sit in the middle of the coliseum-like arena, performing for the crowd of onlookers whose rapid heartbeats and shallow breaking saturate the scene with a frantic sense of expectancy. Low and intimidating music only adds to the uneasy environment. Despite my focus, the gravity of the situation shakes me. My palms sweat, and I become aware of my own swift heartbeat. The scent of the hot lights overwhelms the “theatre”. She looks across the three feet of space between us and asks, “Well Alex, it all comes down to this. What will it be?” She’s a much better actress than I have proven to be. Although her exterior shows minimal panic, I know her thoughts. She’s rooting for me. I almost feel guilty for how easy she makes it. In her mind she is nearly screaming, “D! D! D!” “Well,” I slowly begin, “I’m going to say that,” as I take a deep breath, “the British artist who designed the symbol for the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, that became more commonly known as the peace symbol is... D, Gerald Holtom.” In the space between my words, I am thinking of everything this would mean for me. “I get my Doctorate! I would pay off my parents‘ house! I would invest! I would travel back to Brazil! I might even-” She looks at me expectantly. I nearly forgot. “Yes. Final Answer.”

I prance around in my underwear while he lays and watches. I repulsively sing at the top of my lungs and he doesn’t say a word. I make quirky combinations of foods in a blender and he eats them without wincing. He listens to my problems without ever judging. I’ll gossip about his closest friends and he’ll never tell a soul. If only I knew what he really thought about my dance moves then maybe I’d be able to sleep at night. I always know what my friends are thinking, but my best friend leaves me wondering because he has a hard time discussing anything let alone the weather with me. Maybe that is why he’s my best friend, because he doesn’t laugh at me when I wrap a towel on my head and sing into the hairbrush “Hakuna Matata”. I would love it if he could tell me everything he thinks, but that would be giving him the superpower, and this essay is about me! He’s a real friend, a real trooper, and a really great Labrador Retriever.

I saw Mickey watching me make breakfast for my son. The mouse and I fearfully studied one another as I debated whether to catch him myself or wait for my husband to come home. Aha! I trapped Mickey under a plastic container, and realized I didn’t know what to do with him. I called my husband at work and told him we had a mouse under a plastic bowl on the floor and I needed him to rush home and relocate Mickey. Meanwhile, I tried to feed the mouse brownie crumbs thrust quickly under the bowl. My husband came home and observed that to get little Mickey he would have to lift the bowl. Ooops, little Mickey ran very fast under the refrigerator. For the next six months I was torn between thinking he was cute and wanting to get a cursed rodent out of my house. This conflict persisted for quite a while as Mickey seemed much smarter than we, eluding spring traps, glue traps, electronic traps, specially scented mechanical traps, flying boots and my husband’s cursing to dance merrily across the living room while I jumped on the couch. I was thinking that maybe we should just accept him to the family when little Mickey finally got careless and was trapped in the glue. His frightened, pleading expression still haunts me; he stimulated guilt better than some mothers, so I wish I’d had the superpower to read his mind that we might have negotiated a more amicable parting.

The typical person will, on average, reference the weather at least three times in daily conversation. Yes, you do. Think about it: “Oh, it’s so hot.” “Wow, really windy today...” Just to refresh your memory. Weather is something that we tend to take for granted; it is something perceived as a natural, uncontrollable facet of one’s life. But what if we could change that?

If I could pick any superpower, I would want to change the weather. Imagine the power of the elements at your fingertips! Rain pouring down at my request, snow slinking down at my beckoning! But of course, this won’t happen without careful thought. After all, weather affects everyone, regardless of wealth or status or even location. Weather is omnipresent; it is a united frontal force that -- if properly harnessed -- will require a tremendous deal of responsibility. But as I said, I want it. I would use my weather-controlling powers to connect the emotion of the world. I could make days brighter with sunshine; I could enhance holidays with snowfall or a bit of refreshing mist. No longer would sporting events be postponed, or the fireworks show at Disneyland canceled; families would be free to plan days accordingly. And when one person’s day goes well, that happiness becomes contagious. Success is a domino effect; our actions are in direct correlation with that of those around us. And I could help cultivate it all with the power to shift weather climates.

Now, how about that weather?

Indefatigability.

I once had a friend who “suffered” from insomnia; he had a 4.0 GPA and learned the Korean, Spanish and Mandarin languages. As I start my graduate education, plan for our first baby and begin to orchestrate the already seemingly endless yet not so dreaded Master's thesis while looking for a part time job, I've realized how much easier this could all be if I too, “suffered” from insomnia.

Imagine if Superman, too tired from his busy day at the office, chose to go home and take a nap instead of saving his love interest, Lois Lane, from the plummeting plane. What if Spiderman, too overworked and thinly spread from his classes and dissertation research, huddled into a ball and cried like a school boy from all of the fatiguing stress instead of combating his arch nemeses?

Imagine the learning potential, the breakthroughs in science and technology and the benefited children and significant others everywhere whose parents and loved ones are finally not too tired to be an active and more consistent part of their lives. All due to the superpower of superpowers: indefatigability.

I would be indefatigable.

Imagine this: you are standing on a precarious coastline cliff, hundreds of feet above the thunderous waves below. Your toes curl just over the edge; you close your eyes and lift your face towards the warmth of the sunlight. Breeze blowing through your hair, you casually lean forward and let yourself plummet towards the rocky earth below. Mid air, you instantly transform into an eagle. You spread your wings and fly up into the wind towards the endless sky. The world beneath you begins to shrink and appear tranquil as you glide effortlessly amongst the clouds. Suddenly, you begin a rapid descent. You intentionally spiral downwards towards the vast ocean. Just as you are about to hit the choppy water, you transform into a sleek and elegant dolphin. Chirping happily, you fly as fast as you can past your fellow ocean creatures, playfully jumping up through the air. As you approach a menacing shark, you quickly morph into an enormous and cumbersome hump back whale. After some awkward leaps towards the surface, you transform back into an eagle and glide towards land.

Were I to choose a superpower, it would be the ability to transform into any animal in an instant. I could thus experience every unique power that the animal kingdom possesses: the speed of a cheetah, the grace of an eagle, even the discreetness of a fly. I could escape danger or save lives, defying nature while at the same time embracing it to its fullest extent.

A frail elderly woman was sitting at the bus stop. There was sadness to her demeanor, but she managed to turn her lips into a slight smile. Something told me to ask the woman if she needed help, so I ran back to her. “Oh yes, thank you. I don’t have enough money for the bus. I want to visit my son today.” I dropped the elderly woman off at her destination and felt good that I was able to help.

Eight months later...

I awoke in my hospital bed and was startled to see the elderly woman I had met several months ago. “You have the power to save lives,” she exclaimed. The woman saw the confused look on my face and continued, “The day I visited my son, he was going to commit suicide. I was able to stop him because of you.” “Wow,” I said.

She went on, “You saved a man before his truck exploded and many other people. You can see things before they happen.” I was amazed at how much she knew about me. “You were hit by a car when you saved that little girl, but you did not see your own future. My son has the same rare blood type as you. He was able to give his blood so you can live. The day you saved his life, you saved your own as well.” Tears streamed down my face. She smiled, “Get well soon. We need you to save more lives.”

Emerging from a foam shadow [ominous music plays] strikes a super hero with the wit of Kermit the Frog, the vocal prowess of Miss Piggy, the eloquence of lab assistant Beaker, and a grasp of the English language like the Swedish Chef. I emerge ...The Muppeteer.

Sound silly? As a mom of three young boys, The Muppeteer makes perfect sense to me. Most days my world feels like an episode of The Muppets, a day filled with controlled chaos and a lot of surprises. Like Kermit the Frog, I am the manager of my home. Kermit managed his Muppet friends with wit and charm and could control any situation. Miss Piggy sang her way through every day, and her singing abilities (or lack thereof) didn’t hold her back. As The Muppeteer, singing like Mike Piggy will get homework and chores done in record time...just to make the singing stop! Beaker had the unique ability to talk his way out of anything using one syllable words. With this superpower, I just might get to the bottom of figuring out who colored on the wall in permanent ink with as few words as possible. The extraordinary language skills of the Swedish Chef might just help me understand something that my 1-year-old babbles all day, but really, the Swedish Chef is just plain funny, and every family could use a little laughter!

Sara's tiny fist gripped her pencil tightly as her blue eyes filled with tears. Just seven years old, Sara had never developed the ability to speak as the result a severe form of autism. As Sara and I spent time together, I witnessed her struggle to express her thoughts, and I felt a great desire to help her.

Imagine if Sara could speak. No longer would communication be a challenge, and knowing what Sara wanted, those around her could assist her easily and effectively. This is one of the many reasons why, if I could choose any superpower for a day, I would select the power to give a voice.

After aiding Sara, I would give a voice to those who are exploited - those who are silenced by control and domination. Women sold into human trafficking, powerless against their masters. Children forced to work in factories, exploited and defenseless against their superiors.

There exist people all around the world, whose oppressed voices are longing to be heard. It would only take one day for me, with a superpower, to infuse them with a voice. My gift to them would serve as a catalyst, giving rise to actions that would become the foundation for change. Speaking out would enable them to unite and come together for a brighter future.

Everyone has dreams, but not all have the power to express them and to be heard by others. That is why I choose this superpower: the power to give a voice.

As I walk home, I gape at the wonders of nature. A slight breeze grazes my face, and I stop. Something about this breeze feels extraordinary. Just then, a sudden gust stirs the leaves into action, whispering promises I can only dream of. Such power, what if I possessed such power? I am the wind; I'm flowing, flying, and gliding majestically. I am the electrically charged particles of the sun's solar breath, my energy enough to power earth for generations to come. I am the jet stream, circling, calculating, perspicacious, and acute. I have the world's climate in my grasp, hurricanes, monsoons, bitter winters, and scorching summers. Nature can be cruel, but also fair. I shift a little north or south, east or west, people of disaster struck nations can take a breath, because I understand. Kids dreaming of a white Christmas can smile, seeing the flakes flying, because I understand. People wishing for sunny days can play, because I understand. People wishing for rain can sing and dance as the drops slide down their faces, because I understand. I am the universal conveyor life, beauty, and hope. I give joy to the despairing, forlorn, mournful, troubled, and ill. I descend upon them, whispering promises of better days ahead and fade away, seeing the smile on their faces, knowing that I have made a difference. I open my eyes and smile at the trees and leaves around me as they dance. What is the wind whispering? I think I know.

The swoosh of clothing. The scritch-scratch of a pen. A sudden gush of air. Out of nowhere comes a small toy that wasn't there before. Next to it stands a man in tight, muscle gripping spandex with underwear on the outside. O.K. so maybe I'd ditch the spandex and underwear, but if I could have one super power for a day this would be mine. The ability to draw and create using only a pen as my writing utensil, and the air as my drawing pad. Now of course I'd need a name. Nothing too cheesy like Inkman or Five Fingered Art Boy. No, it would be something more elaborate, something all inclusive. Like The Architect! That is a good name for a good hero. The Architect wouldn't run around fixing leaky sinks, or draw ladders to pull cats from trees. The Architect would draw a waterfall over a burning building, or a wall in front of escaping robbers. He would travel to third world countries and draw the biggest crate of water bottles and fresh food you've ever seen. How can he do this all in one day you ask? He re-draws time. Anything he can dream of he can create. Of course I'll need to start wearing glasses to mask my identity, but that's beside the point. The Architect would be a hero like no one has ever seen. My superpower would be to create a new and better world.

In 2008, our All About Education Scholarship question was: “How will a $5,000 scholarship for education make a difference in your life?”

My mom looked at me, her face glowing with pride. “So, honey, are you ready for Harvard?” I grin back at her and answer, “You bet!” Dad came over and put his arms around the both of us. “I‘m so proud of you. I knew from the start it was worth sacrificing our retirement funds for you to go to college!” I was about to reply when frantic barking cut through our tender family moment. “Oh, looks like the mail has arrived!” commented Mom. She was right. For a second later, Fido raced into the room and deposited a soggy letter at our feet. I recognized the prestigious logo on its front: Harvard. I opened the letter with shaking hands. My eyes grew wide with horror as I scanned it. “Mom? Dad... I... I won’t be able to go to Harvard...” They gasped simultaneously, “What, why?!” I answered, “The tuition is $145,765,000 a year...” “No! I thought it was only $145,760,000,” was Dad’s reply. “We‘re 5000 dollars short,” I said numbly. “Let‘s remain calm.” Mom fanned herself with the envelope as she reached for her wallet. A paperclip fell out of it. “Ohhh! We’re broke! We have no money left! Oh, injustice! Oh, shattered dreams!” Dad shook his head, “If only you had gotten that 5000 dollar scholarship.” I hung my head as the letter falls out of my hands. A sigh escaped my lips, “If only...”

In 2009, our All About Education Scholarship question was: “How will a $5,000 scholarship for education make a difference in your life?”

Inside my mailbox was a letter accompanied by a key. ‘Dear Lynn, Unlock your future. Sincerely, Admissions.‘ Everything I’ve worked for has paid off: a year and a half of sweat from researching the right path, familiarizing myself with the machinery through self-teaching, and volunteering to develop a strong design portfolio. I stood in front of the door, inserted the key, and reached for the doorknob. Locked. This cannot be... Two years ago, on course for completing a business degree, I was introduced to industrial design at the cause of a snowboarding accident right before my graduation. I was unable to walk for two months and relied on crutches and other medical support devices to have daily mobility. These devices taught me the importance of quality design and its impact on the user. My affinity for industrial design was thus developed. That summer, I worked at an international investment bank where I found my curiosities for design to be overwhelming. I constantly noticed how everyday office products could be improved. It confirmed my passion for design and my drive to make an impact on society through product design. I stared at the door and noticed the thin slot with “Tuition” written above it. 50 Benjamins. 50 Benjamins to help me unlock this door, bring me closer to my dreams of becoming a problem solver and a creative thinker. Beyond this door is a room that provides the tools needed to become an industrial designer. Please help me turn this knob.

In 2011, our All About Education Scholarship topic was: “Tell us what you think about the following statement: The key to fixing our nation is 'all about education...'”

 

Jersey Shore. Paris Hilton. Black Eyed Peas. Fox News.

Need I say more?

Chances are at least one of these names incites a reaction inside you. Some people think these things are the decline of western civilization as we know it. Some people think they are stupid, but survive and tolerate their existence. However, a majority of America LOVES these things. They like Jersey Shore, a show about six spoiled, rich, Jersey twenty-something’s and their daily dramas, enough to have Rutgers College pay Snooki $32,000 to come speak to their graduating class! They like Paris Hilton enough to keep her in the tabloids for years when she did absolutely nothing that took an iota of genuine talent.

Over the last decade, American youth has slipped into willful ignorance. They prefer mindless television and music to entertainment you actually have to think about and have substance. If I were to ask the average 22 year old what they thought about the philosophies of Nietzsche, they would look at me like I was crazy and change the subject. If I asked them about what happened on The Real World last night, they would go off for an hour about how awesome that episode was.

We can fix this. Education is the answer to reversing this trend of rampant anti-intellectualism. I truly believe that if we can improve schools on all levels and encourage productivity and a love for learning, we can again become a competitor on a global scale in the sciences.

I am Me. There is no almost there or half-way done. There is not a second chance and there is no re-do. I have said goodbye to start-overs and done away with regrets. I am Me and there is nothing I would change.

My story may be filled with triumphs or it may be filled with despair, but it doesn’t matter. There is beauty in every story and purpose with each line on each page…regardless of how tragic or magnificent each chapter may be. I am Me and that is enough.

My mistakes are not regrettable. My imperfections are obvious and unavoidable, but they are beautiful because they are mine. I embrace who I am and I love all of me, even my flaws. I am vulnerable in my weaknesses, but vulnerability gives me power. I am powerful because I am imperfect?

It is not my past that should concern you, but my future. I am Tomorrow and I am Change. What good is it to chase after regret? Why long for a re-do? Yesterday is already gone, but there is hope in tomorrow. It is tomorrow I can change? So I regret nothing, because it was my yesterday that gives me the courage face my today and to change my tomorrow.

Author George Elliot once said, “The strongest principle of growth lies in human choice.” Over the years, I have made as many bad decisions as any other teenager, and I would be a dishonest man if I said that I have never wished I could change any of them. It was only after reading Mr. Elliot’s words that I realized that I should not be concerned with the past, but with the future. God giving us another day on this earth is the closest to a “do-over” that we will ever receive. To rise with the sun each day and have a second chance at all the choices we had made previously is a true gift. I do realize that not all choices can be relived each day, but learning from our mistakes and taking the lessons that they teach us in stride will make us better people in the long run. If every time I made a mistake I sat down and cried, where would I be today? The decisions I have made and dealt with throughout my life have become an integral part of the man I am today. To change them would make my entire struggle for naught. Dealing with hardship is what makes individuals grow into strong, functional members of society and while America’s youth sit around wishing about their “do-over,” I revel in my choices. I love the man I have become, and I wouldn’t take a hundred “do-overs,” let alone one.

Behind the Wheel
What a morning it was! Bright, crisp, and so full of excitement, the air was electric.

It was almost summer; our junior year in high school soon to be a distant memory. “To the lake, to the lake!” was the call, and we couldn’t wait to heed it. The anticipated laughter, the sparkling water…magic awaited us.

Seven of us jumping in--a toss of the keys, an egging to drive, and a moment’s hesitation lost forever. If only I could do it over. If only I hadn’t gotten behind the wheel.

Hitchhikers picked up along the way, now there were nine. As we crossed the dam, the group yelled, “Faster!” Pounding on the windows, “Faster, faster!” A foot atop mine on the gas pedal and the words in the wind, “We have to hit 80!”

We hit 80. Slowing now, curve ahead, panic, the brakes locked. We didn’t make it.

So numb I can’t feel the glass under my feet. Running. People hurting. My friends on the ground. Her beautiful face is gone. Help. Help us.

A hospital. A funeral. A courtroom. The judge decides--a “group” action. But me, I will never accept that.

If only I could do it over, I wouldn’t have gotten behind that wheel.

The year is 2070, the location is heaven. I sit across from the grandfather I haven’t seen in almost eighty-five years, and ask myself why? Why hadn’t I asked him the questions which now wander through my mind so repeatedly when I had been given the chance? Why had I been so content with never knowing the deep history and incredible experiences which he had witnessed?

As if he can read my mind, my grandfather reaches across the space between us and pats my leg the same way he did when I was young.

“Laura,” he calmly says, “there is no sense in regretting the past. What is better is to learn from your mistakes. We missed a special time in our relationship, but your other grandfather is still alive today. Although you may not be as close to him as you were to me, time is a gift which needs to be treasured. Learn from him, Laura. He is a fountain of wealth. Take advantage of what you are given.”

Slowly, as the fog clears and I awake from my dream, I realize the significance in what I have just witnessed. I can never get back lost time, for it is exactly that--lost, but I can learn from the past and I can change my future. Time is wasting, and I will let no more pass before I do-over the relationships I have with those around me now.

It’s near the coast. In a space of sea-salt air and sailboats. It’s a cold day, cloudy. She sits facing inland. She doesn’t hear his approach. They embrace. The embrace is for his sake not hers, though she pretends. She is the first to release. They’re not old friends, though they did love. More than she’ll admit. Slowly, he releases, tracing the backs of her arms to her fingertips letting his hands fall useless into his pockets. They wander the streets. He misses her. They stop and order coffee. Black and midnight strong for him. Iced, blended and sugar-creamed for her. They continue on to the waterfront and sit. He tries to laugh at her jokes and confusion, letting her gossip and pretending to be interested, when really all he wants is to hold her quietly. They live disconnected lives, countless miles and lifetimes away. Their own past remains unspoken while those of strangers fill the air between them. He watches the stark lambency of the blue peter on a nearby ship. I have to go, she says. He nods. Another hurried embrace that she is the first to forget. A fog has set in. He lingers as her car recedes. Soon, the first rains of the season will come to wash away the dust and dirt off the streets. He soon begins to wish he had not let her leave. She crashed on her way home. Dead at seventeen.

I have met people who limp through life, silently nursing splinters of regret. These painful shards, driven deep into peoples‘ psyches whilst they walk barefoot over the rough-shod boardwalk of experience, take many forms.

To one person the shards symbolize historical wrongs that they long to retroactively transform into rights. To another they represent forks in the metaphorical road, long-since taken, which in retrospect appear to have led to less than prosperous endpoints. For yet another the psychological splinters are indicative of an overwhelming desire to visit one‘s former self, and to impart a fraction of the accumulated knowledge gleaned over the years.

For me, there are no splinters.

Were there times when I unintentionally inflicted mental or emotional hurt on my loved ones? Yes! Were there decisions that my past self made that changed my life‘s path in such a way, that at the time my course seemed to have been altered for the worse? Definitely!

But I do not desire a do-over, a mulligan, or a take-back. Yesterday‘s failures, last month‘s disappointments, last year‘s pain - the bad times, along with the good times, have inextricably woven themselves into the fabric of my being, making me who I am today, and allowing me to unflinchingly return a proud look to that strange-but-so-familiar-face staring back at me from the mirror.

For me, there are no splinters - there are only experiences; and those experiences are me.

Jordan‘s platinum blonde hair caught the light streaming in through the window. Her eyes, rings of electric blue lightning bolts, stared determinedly at the pink plastic Pretty Pretty Princess game sprawled out on the floor between us. She had just rolled a four, but her six-year-old hand stopped mid-air before setting her playing piece down on the designated spot. The four would take her just one space short of the last adornment she needed to complete her royal ensemble: the purple clip-on earrings.

“No, no,” she tutted, shaking her head and immediately re-flicking the disobedient spinner. “I get a re-over.”

A re-over? What in the world was a re-over? Oh, of course: a re-do/do-over hybrid. In Jordan‘s one-track, naive mind, a simple “re-over” could fix just about anything. But I (older, though not necessarily always more mature) had grown to learn better; no mistake could be mollified by redoing it. What‘s done is done. Words once spoken cannot be rescinded. Yet consider this: why even make the mistake at all if erasing it was as easy as that? No, mistakes are necessary to live and, more importantly, to develop a sense of self. Regret, of course, is natural (we are only human, after all). But regret is the best teacher.

“Sure Jordan,” I smile knowingly. “Try again.” The purple clip-on earrings match her Dora the Explorer pj‘s, anyway.

I watched him suffer daily; I could see the torment in his eyes and in his movements. I followed him every day because what happened after the incident fascinated me. He only blamed himself, and that is why I gave him another chance.

He was driving in the rain, and he wasn‘t alone, there was a girl in the car as well. I could see him tightly holding the girl‘s hand; he turned and faced her, smiled at her. In that second, another car hit them. Everything happened too fast for him to even react; in the end one died.

Everything he cared about, he no longer did, everything he once enjoyed, he no longer does. This one girl meant that much to him? I wondered.

I never spoke to a human before and I doubt he has ever spoken to a thing like me before. I came up to him and told him that he could have one more chance. A second chance for a different life.

Bewildered and confused, he took out a box and inside it was a ring. He slowly smiled a very sad smile and said, “How I wish I could re-live that day, how I wish it never happened. But, I’ve learned my mistake; I can‘t take advantage of anything because life is short and unexpected. I have grown and I have learned; I can‘t, even though I want to, accept the offer.”

I smiled. What a captivating human.

It only took once.
One time.
She was hooked. On the fast track to nowhere. Cravings, obsession, destruction. Heroin. It ruined her life and her children‘s. They were without a mother and a home, just two innocent babies left to the world of welfare and foster care, and all because of that one time.
If a do-over would make the difference, I would give it to her, if only the next time around she would say, “No, drugs are not for me.”
My cousin was once my idol. She was confident and successful. Little did I know, her life would come toppling down. When she had her twins, I prayed that they would not have deformities and would be healthy and happy. Unfortunately, “crack babies” are cheated of the chance to develop properly, and her boys were no exception. They were slower, possibly mentally handicapped, and possibly deaf. If only she could make the decision again and think about her children and how much they needed her. If only she could live without drugs. If only she had thought about the consequences. If only she could change that one time.

My train of thought:

1. First stop (selfishness and rationalizations): Oh yeah, that do-over is definitely mine. I have made so many mistakes in my life I want to fix. I mean, who wouldn‘t keep it for themselves?
2. Second stop (guilt and compulsory altruism): Hmm. But there are so many people out there who have it worse than me. Darn, I will feel like a jerk if I keep it over something so silly as sleeping through a math final. I would definitely give it away.
3. Third stop (skepticism): Wait a minute. Accepting a do-over means ditching responsibility, right? People don‘t take their actions seriously enough already nowadays. The last things we need are do-overs.
4. Fourth stop (maturity): Nobody should be able to do-over. Everyone blunders sometime in his or her life. We should deal with these mistakes by learning from them and growing as human beings. It may be painful and I might have to face the consequences of my actions, but I will end up a better person in the end.
5. Fifth stop (human nature): Geez this train is slow. Where am I anyway? Ack! I missed my stop! I want a do-over!

It was ‘mystery‘ meat day in the school cafeteria. Marty, Debbie, John and I had not brought our lunches to school. We stood in line, trays in hand, with the usual verbage of ‘peas or corn‘, which we mimicked behind Mrs. Monks back, (“Peas or corn, peas or corn”). A scoop of mashed potatoes and orange jello were plopped into compartments on our trays. Marty’s appetite was ruined, so he began peeling the top sticky film off of the jello and burying the mystery meat to protect us girls from the inhumanity of the gray unidentifiable slab. John then contributed mashed potatoes from us all to build a massive volcano over the gray matter. From there, we hunted down a bottle of ketchup that hadn’t been consumed by other students also attempting to disguise the gray mass in ways of their own. Our volcano spewed, sputtered and mounds of lava came pouring down the sides. By this time Debbie & I were adding our peas (mine) and corn (hers) to the landscape for trees, flowers, dead people and whatever else our imagination could conjure up. The final artistic flair was to create an island using some remaining milk. Then Mrs. Monks walked by us. The woman had never developed the eclectic taste of a true artist. No scope of the imagination as she proceeded to order, then watch while Marty was forced to consume the masterpiece. We should have grabbed our forks and assisted in the consumption.

I just sat there. I didn’t say a single word. I didn’t even laugh. This poor girl was being ridiculed and humiliated and I didn’t do a darn thing about it. It would have been easy to stand up and say “Stop it!” I didn’t though. All I did was sit there and listen to the taunting of the heartless kids. She looked at me through her hot, sticky tears, but I just looked away. I could almost taste her salty tears, but I did nothing. She cried, they laughed, and I stared out the bus window, wishing the ride would end and I could go home. How could I do that? If the same situation happened to me today, I wouldn’t even think twice about standing up for her. Why didn’t I do so something then? I was only in the third grade. Maybe I didn’t have the self-confidence or the courage to tell my friends to stop. She deserved some help, though, and she didn’t get any from me. If I could have a “do-over,” I would take it in a heartbeat. I would go back to that moment and stop the torture. She has probably forgotten all about the incident, but I may never get over the guilt that I feel. I’m sorry, Cheyenne, I’m sorry.

One word -- Oompa Loompa. The big thing these days are self tanners which are said to be safer than the sun...but back in 1987 things were very different. My skin was so white in high school that it had that blue hue to it -- veins I guess...really sexy. I eagerly decided to try a fake tanning, but rather than rubbing the cream on your skin -- it was a pill! (Too young and stupid to see the down side to that one.) Sure, everything was fine the first day, but the second day I started to look like my diet consisted of only carrots. The third, fourth and fifth days turned me into an orange (very unpopular) creature walking the halls of school. My friends were cool to my face, but my locker told a much different story, or rather movie. Pictures of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory appeared each day as a joke. My orange tan lasted two weeks. Being really white is a drag, but being an Oompa Loompa is no way to live.

“It’s an investment and just a few thousand!”

*SWIPE!*

...that “few thousand” turned into upwards of 15, as there were many pre-requisite courses required for my graduate school program of interest -- now, with less than ideal debt to limit & income ratios, I’m at risk of being denied private loans for the very education I was charging (pun intended) towards in the first place. This is why you find me here, applying for the “do-over” scholarship. If could do-it-over, I would responsibly research appropriate educational funding, and know the importance of using credit wisely:

Be credit card savvy; shop around for the right card, read the fine print! Know the terms & conditions, charges & rates, expirations & limits!

Create and stick to a budget! Pay attention to where your money is going & plan for the unexpected!

Use cash/debit for recurring daily expenses/things that are not forever tangible (e.g. gas, food, haircuts etc.)

Unless it’s an emergency, or you have the means to pay it off in a timely manner -- DON’T CHARGE IT! Stop & think: “What will I have to show for this purchase in the long run!” and “how many hours of work will it take to pay this off?”

Take advantage of secure online banking, track your spending and set up reminders/alerts!

Pay (more than the minimum) on time, every time!

Check your credit report!

Report any lost or stolen cards immediately

Securing your financial future is all about research, budgeting & discipline!

Suppose one day, as you were cleaning out the back of your bedroom closet, you came across an old box, labeled “childhood memories.” Among the broken friendship bracelets and photos of you and your sister dressed as pirates for Halloween, there is a letter in the box. You soon discover that it is a letter from your high school guidance counselor, the one who wore Hawaiian shirts and a bleach blonde beehive every day. The letter is a present, of a sort, offering you the once in a lifetime chance to ‘do over‘ one event from high school. Would you take advantage of the offer? I had just such a letter sent to me at one time, and after much deliberation, I forwarded it to someone else. Of course, there were many events from my high school days that I would have loved to alter according to my specifications of how my life should go. There were tests I could have retaken, friendships I might have restored, or just days I could have spent more time with my family. So why did I choose the way I did? Because every experience I have had has made me into the person I am today. Of all of the growth I have achieved as an individual, most of it originates from the difficult times. These experiences are more valuable to me than a life of smooth-sailing. So I sent the letter to my sister, who might want to re-think that pirate costume.

The figure of a patchy green body rested underneath my tiny button-like nose. I stared at its beady eyes, blinking as it slipped back into the folds of wrinkled skin. The stench emanating from its slimy cavities lingered as I admired the rugged contours of its underside. I steadily brushed one finger across the rough, swelling surface. In shock, its stubby leathered limbs disappeared, and I was left with an unmoving round object.

Curiosity had me snooping around the shape; the shape that once pulsed in a strange and sluggish fashion. I giggled as I pinched one of its little toes and playfully dragged it out into the open. The foot shot back inside as quickly as I pried it out. In wonder, I took the object in both hands and shook in the attempt of flinging out the remarkable creature that was held within. In a split second, the object flew out of my grasp and into the air.

Like a clip played in slow motion: the round figure was air bound and I was scurrying with my arms out for dear life in hope of catching it. The shell landed on the tiled floor with a loud ‘CRACK!’ and I abruptly stopped in my tracks, frozen. The creature emerged, and trudged off into the next room.

As an act of a child’s innocent curiosity, I wish to redo this encounter to be free of the guilt left by hurting my poor pet turtle...

The day went smoothly at first only had three babies cry, and two kids sucker punch me, but then I left my fourth set. I was playing Sir Topham Hatt, the lovable conductor of Thomas Town, as a costumed character at Six Flags Magic Mountain that summer. Exhausted and steaming, peering through the foggy mesh eyes of the plastic head, my escort suggested the short cut to the break room.

Sweet! I thought. But then twelve camp kids, two instructors with them stood in the way.

The duo approached my escort to ask for directions to Gold Rusher, the rugrats swarmed me. While my escort explained how to get to the lamest ride at the theme park, the kids asked me a million questions I wasn’t allowed to answer. I tried to sign answers to their questions, the smiles became disappointment.

“He’s not even real!” yelled a kid.

“Kill him!” yelled another tugging my arm.

Panicked, leaving no time to see if they would, I ran as fast as the 10 pound shoes would carry me. Then, in slow motion, my big feet betrayed me, my plastic head flew off. I fell flat, although cushioned by the fat suit, nothing could cushion my ego as the kids surrounded me pointing and laughing.

“Sir Topham is black!” one shouted “And he’s a girl!” shouted another.

My escort helped me up and replaced my head, and held my arm as I limped my walk of shame.

Why did I take that shortcut?

The Old Me, Grandma’s Young Visitor
The old people’s home smelled like lemon cleanser and cheese. If I could walk in again, I wouldn’t cringe the way I did. The nurse asked me if she could help me and I said no. If I could talk to her again, I would ask her, “Yes, could you just hold my hand? I think that that would help.”

She showed me the door my grandma was behind and I just walked right in. I shouldn’t have turned the TV on, because there was nothing on the screen that interesting. Instead I should have dusted off her favorite Book and cracked its holy spine.

My grandma sounded weak whenever she moved her mouth. I should have told her to just relax while I read her a passage to give her strength. I should have told her about the Heaven that she believed in, but I just moved my mouth to make mundane phrases, like “School’s all right, I guess” and “Yeah, everything’s just fine.”

She asked me to hold her hand and I did.

But I should have done more, should have lowered my head and kissed her pale, spotted cheek.

She asked me if I believed in Him yet and I just shrugged. But I know now that I should have lied to make her smile, because the way she sighed still makes me cry.

I miss the dew on the green blades of grass on Saturday mornings, the stretching and jokes of the circle, the camaraderie and bond we shared, the common goal.

I miss the summer running on the afternoons where the sun refused to go down seemingly to let us kids play on forever on that field.

I miss the heart break of defeat, the jubilation of scoring, the bliss of victory, and my teammates.

Take me back to those days, when I swore I would never let it go; when the weekend plans were dictated by game times and family trips meant 15 teammates traveling together.

Please let me live the night before games just one more time. Let me feel the anxiety and the excitement.
Let me close my eyes and go, go back to the days when I dreamt, asleep and awake of playing on the biggest stages when I hoped for fame and success on a pitch.

Allow me to again be afraid and defiant of defeat. Allow me to rekindle the fire and this time to keep the flame going, just like I swore I would.

Don’t make me have to keep wondering what if? Just let me close my eyes and go back to playing soccer and this time I promise I won’t quit.

The air was hot and dense. Bright light entered through cracks in the window shutters, but it was worthless with the smoke and the air mask sealed around my face. I crawled along the concrete floor, dragging heavy gear, an air tank, and an axe. I was training to be a firefighter. That day I was learning search and rescue. I swept the axe handle along the floor, searching for walls, doors, and victims. I knew that the instructors had placed a dummy somewhere in the training building. I was about to give up when I reached the last room, where a ladder led to the ground below from an open window. I maneuvered the axe handle under the bed and around the floor. My air tank was running dangerously low. I was ready to climb out to fresh air, but then it struck me - maybe the instructors had made it tough by making it simple. I reached out for the bed, and sure enough, a large dummy - a good 100 pounds - lay curled up on the dirty blanket. I lifted her and started for the window. Heaving and gasping, I descended and lay it down, her plastic head resting on the pavement. Pride washed away my weariness. I broke the seal of my mask and breathed in deeply. My instructor came over. I wasn’t prepared for what he was about to say. “Where’s her baby?” he asked. “She was holding her baby.”

 

Sun Tzu warned in his Art of War that "straightforward actions generally lead to engagement; surprising actions generally lead to victory." However, in 1943 as the Allies prepared to wage war with Germany and, ultimately, strategize for victory, the Royal Air Force could have used more pilots who valued the straightforward, direct approach of engagement than those who saw merit in the unexpected. I would give my do over to pilot Terrance Clyde, the hapless commander from Oxfordshire who dropped the very first bomb of World War II to a set of very unnecessary and surprising results.
    The first casualty from a World War II bombing had been born in Africa, but had moved to Germany at a young age and, by all accounts, had acclimated extremely well to Berlin. As with all innocent bystanders, his death was tragically unprovoked, yet more importantly, it smacked of Neville Chamberlain’s avoidance of conflict and poor allocation of resources: the intended target of the bomb, an ammunitions plant 20 miles south, would remain unscathed for two more years, a time during which it would churn out hundreds of thousands of weapons for the Third Reich.
    If poor Terrance Clyde had a second chance to drop his bomb and to cripple Berlin's main ammunition factory, perhaps fewer weapons would have been produced, fewer soldiers of the Allies wounded or killed, and victory more quickly achieved against the Axis Powers. The first casualty from a World War II bombing was the only elephant in the Berlin Zoo.

The goalkeeper went right. Asamoah Gyan, Ghana's leading scorer at the 2010 World Cup in South Africa went down the center and hit the crossbar. Gyan took his penalty kick in the last minute of extra time. If he scored, he would have made Ghana become the first African country ever to reach a World Cup semi-final.

It didn't matter, though. He missed, and Ghana went on to lose the penalty shootout to Uruguay. It wasn't a normal atmosphere that day in South Africa. Ghana was not the only country behind Gyan on that summer night at the World Cup, as he ran up to take his penalty kick.

The entire continent of Africa would have been euphoric had Gyan scored. Parties might have lasted for weeks, or even months. It was the perfect setting: Ghana makes it further than any other team from the continent in its history, with this event taking place on African soil for the first time.

Gyan could have simply rolled the ball down the center and he would have shocked the world and the history of soccer. He would have been the hero, the savior, the legend.

If I could give anyone a second chance in the world, Asamoah Gyan would be allowed to walk up to the spot one last time. Not only did his team deserve to go through in that semi-final against Uruguay, but it would have been the most meaningful World Cup match ever for an African country. Ever.

“What so proudly we watched at the twilight’s last reaming.” Grand Central Terminal!--that can’t be right? Despite being a New York native, potentially a true Yankee, Christina Aguilera spoiled America’s own National Anthem in front of the most American of crowds--viewers of the Super Bowl XLV. Aguilera, however peculiar to some, would never intentionally fluke as disgracefully as this. She was discomfited, to say the least. Christina Aguilera dramatically decreased her star status with that one line; she went from respected artist to shameful screw-up in the eyes of thousands. That she messed up a few words in a song could be overlooked, but that she messed up the National Anthem, a tune hummed passionately throughout these fifty states and one as familiar as a mother’s voice, cannot be excused. Christina Aguilera needs a do-over as a heart attack patient needs nitroglycerin. While she has seemingly moved on and her recent successes have dulled her mishap, ‘Aguilera’ will be a name associated with a chuckle at her expense. Nothing short of a redesign could cause the star to come out from behind the stars and stripes that she ducked behind to avoid public scrutiny on that fateful day of American football. Aguilera deserves a redo for she will be forever condemned to regret.

I stand looking down at seven billion pairs of eyes drilling a hole through me as they wait for me to make my voice heard. I have one shot to inspire, to move each one of those seven billion hearts, but I know exactly what to say. Just as his words once reached my heart, I anticipate those words will again penetrate through the rough human exterior to the very core. I open my mouth to speak the words of the legendary Mahatma Gandhi, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” This quote packs a punch full of meaning and depth and leaves a mark that could last a lifetime; it emphasizes the power of the concept of leading by example. The way to make the difference you want to see is not by putting endless efforts towards arguing your views or trying to change others because these labors will be futile. The best way to see your idea flourish is to put it into action; be a leader and see if anyone will take your lead. For instance, take a look at the mustard seed. Once someone plants this tiny seed, it can blossom into a very large and thriving tree which will lend more seeds to the barren earth. Leading by example is much like the ripples in a pond. It starts out very small but grows larger and larger until it has covered the entire pond; all you need is someone to start it.

As I climb onto my slightly worn soapbox, I smooth the wrinkles in my black skirt. I lift my head up high, and shout, “World, LISTEN UP! Life does NOT stand for Liposuction, Injections, Facials, and Eating Disorders. Why have so many of us thrown away our personalities and independence for a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes? Why have we sold our souls for a skinnier waistline? WHY CAN I NOT EAT CARBS AND STILL BE ACCEPTED IN HEAVEN??! Life is about LIVING! We should focus on what’s important! Love, friendship, conversation, higher learning, and congeniality should fill our hearts and minds while doughnuts fill up our stomachs! We only have a few years to live, so why cheat yourself by giving up happiness so others will look at you and think, ‘Dear God, I wonder how many hours she spends in a gym every day?’ Should someone ever tell you that love and happiness are based on how bleached one’s teeth are, that person should be drug out and shot, while the unhappy recipient of that comment shouts, ‘Friendship is loving someone for who they are and not their number of Botox injections!’ Come on World, look at yourselves! Feel slightly guilty? Well, you should. Live life fully so at some point you can look at your sad, roadmap of a face, touch your skin, and think, ‘I’ve done it all… and boy can you tell from all the wrinkles.’“

The truly unprecedented opportunity of speaking to the entire world--to share with it a thought that defines who one is--is incomprehensible to the finite human mind. One would most undoubtedly speak of the object, or idea, closest to himself.

My personal statement to the world would reflect my allegiance to my Savior, Jesus Christ. Perhaps this seems cliché, or divisive, but it truly is where my heart is. Specifically, I would quote John 14:6 from the Bible. As the verse reads, “Jesus answered, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’” Using a verse that defines Christ as the sole route to heaven might appear to both religious skeptics and pluralists to fan the flame of intolerance, but to me the verse presents the truth.

Some might argue that a statement of self-empowerment or peace might be more helpful to today’s world, but I beg to differ. While the phrase “believe in yourself” wins all the accolades of the twenty-first century, it does nothing for eternity. Today is too short - and eternity all too long - to settle for a comfortable, safe, and acceptable statement.

Perhaps quoting Scripture rocks the global boat. Perhaps it steps on the proverbial toes. But the opportunity to share Christ to the rest of the world is too great to ignore. Who I am is defined by Him; and that is something I want to the entire world to know.

One thing. The whole world. Six billion six hundred two million two hundred twenty-four thousand one hundred seventy-five people. A daunting task that would require one heck of a PA system. And I’m the one who gets the microphone? It’d have to be something meaningful, something that would touch lives, every life. “Higgibity ridicuubo blisatz plumbforad yibtunkel jequivox,” followed by a most ridiculous face to be seen by those lucky enough to catch it on television. No language barriers to overcome. No chance of offending anyone. The only consequence would be laughter. Pure, contagious, and inexplicable laughter. Have you ever been in a room and someone started giggling, and before you know it, the entire room is rolling on the floor hysterical for absolutely no reason? Imagine that times a million. Everyone could use a good laugh and nothing is better than shared laughter. The whole world united in one minute of absolute joy. What could possibly be better?

“Friends, family, women, and girls everywhere (and even some men): I call a strike against flip-flops! The age of naked feet is no more. I plead with you to stop the unholiness of your treacherous crimes of wearing thong sandals with not-so-beautiful feet. If you decide you would still like to continue wearing these wretched shoes, there are a few rules I at least ask of you to follow.
*Rule number one: make sure it is the right season for flip-flops. When it’s 35 degrees outside and your feet are purple from the cold, you only appear to be lazy and ignorant of the weather.
*Rule number two: do not get dressed in the dark; at least, that is what it looks like when your flip-flops do not match your outfit.
*And lastly, rule number three: do not walk out in sandals UNLESS your feet are clean and fixed up. No one wants to look upon feet that are crusted over, caked in dirt, and have chipped, unpainted toenails.
So I call all of you to take action, take a stand for all that is good in this world--end the flip-flop craze and cover those monsters up.”

GO; although it is the shortest sentence in the English language it possesses a world of meaning. Go run, go plant, go learn, go vote! All you have to do is go. In this way people battle obesity, benefit the environment, gain awareness and institute change. Motivate yourself to simply, do something, because the results may surprise you. It is as if you are embarking on a new and exciting journey, a journey with endless possibilities. The steep mountains and unforeseen obstacles may test your patience and challenge your spirit but nevertheless, acknowledge your victory with priceless rewards. And if you need guidance, do not hesitate to gain support from your family and community. Who knows, they may be inspired by you! If a two letter sentence can illuminate a world of possibility so too can you encourage the power of action! The task may be big or small, complicated or simple but the cooperation of such activity will catalyze positive change. In doing so, you gain a wealth of knowledge and experience that is yours forever; no one can steal your impact. So, unless you prefer the gloom of idleness why not brighten the world with a positive deed? Create plans and go; do not let apathy manifest your life! GO!

EAT MORE CHEESE! Cheese is an excellent source of calcium, protein and phosphorus! It also is shown that eating either Swiss, Cheddar, American or Mozzarella cheese can help prevent tooth decay in the long run. Eating British cheese right before bedtime however, can help you have good dreams and a nice sleep. Lactose intolerant? Not to worry! There are many varieties of soy cheeses that you can consume. There are also many different ways that you can eat cheese. You can have it on a cracker. Also on a sandwich. Put it on your nachos and hot dogs at a baseball game. Have a cheese omelet in the morning before you go to work. Impress your friends with a fancy cheese platter at a formal dinner. And don’t forget that good ol’ Mac and Cheese! So remember, if you want good teeth, nice dreams and a happy tummy, then EAT MORE CHEESE! Eating too much cheese may cause different side effects such as constipation and projectile vomiting. Side effects may vary.

If I were given the chance to shout out to America, I would shout out, “Try BBQ sauce with pizza!”. No, I am not being random. I am being totally serious. It all happened on that fateful day when we cooked pepperoni pizza at my house. We were out of Valentina hot sauce, and it was about to turn ugly. But then I remembered that my dad had bought Sweet Baby Ray’s Hickory & Brown Sugar Barbecue Sauce and I wondered what it would taste like with pizza. So I ran to the refrigerator and opened the bottle. I poured it on my plate, and as I watched the brown sauce dripping down, I was skeptical because when I was little I had bad experiences with BBQ sauce. But as soon as I dipped my pepperoni pizza in that sweet sauce, and put it in my mouth, I was hooked. I am never going back to Valentina hot sauce. I don’t know if it was the brown sugar or what, but that was the best thing I had ever tasted. Since that day, I have been experimenting, and I must say, BBQ sauce tastes really good with ruffle chips and french fries. I want people in America to experience my fascination and love for BBQ sauce. Much to my dismay, my siblings think I’m a total freak and that BBQ is disgusting, but if I can turn someone into a pizza-BBQ lover, then I have fulfilled my mission.

To set the scene: The stage is black except for the yellow light flooding the middle. I am sitting there, perched up on a bar stool with a mug of coffee. I take a sip of my latte as the camera focuses on the hot steam rising tantalizingly from my beverage. I shout: “Starshucks for president! Starshucks for president!” They are who I am voting for. They have the right idea. Who can help but be relaxed when surrounded by mellow music and the smell of freshly ground espresso beans? The frozen drinks are not exposing the scandals of the hot drinks. Vanilla and caramel blend together perfectly to make a satisfying beverage. Soy and whole milk live harmoniously in the same refrigerator. The cups brag about being composed of recycled materials. Strangers stand together in line, united by a common cause: to enjoy a great cup of Joe. They sit side by side at cafe tables, sipping slowly and smiling to one another. There is no conflict here. Little did the public know that as I gave my speech the steam rising from the coffee was actually a hypnotizing technique. As the debate is broad casted worldwide, crime rates dwindle as coffee purchases at local cafes increase. Earth is a little bit happier now.

A new and improved reality show premiers TODAY! And guess what? Nope, no one is getting a wife. No, no one’s surviving being left on a desert island. Try again. No it’s not “Real World” season 100! Come on! You’re close! Yes... it’s YOUR LIFE! Today you live in a world where 400,000 people die of smoking each year...where 1/3 of the nation are students who have dropped out of school and never received a diploma...and where approx. 1 million teenage girls get pregnant a year! Sure today’s headlines may seem seductively interesting: “Britney Spears gives up custody!” or “Christie Brinkley settles for millions.” But while we as a people waste time being “entertained” by a predominantly promiscuous media, children go missing and the environment screams for attention! The most important factual evidence of our daily lives should not be the number of times Lindsey Lohan checks into rehab, but fighting for the percent of students who graduate college to rise, or the number of Americans who actually vote to greatly increase... Live in Reality, Face the “Facts” Make a Change.

Not every day is a person’s name a fashion statement. Well, mine is EVERYDAY! “I’m Autumn Boots!” Can’t forget that! Just as space boots, cowboy boots, and even rain boots are common names given to boots specifically for their use, I was born in the autumn season and in that same season 11 years later, I met Mr. Boots. Funny how true a name can fit a person, well; I can fit into my name. I have a pair of yellow autumn boots. I wear them, obviously, in the season of autumn when the rain covers the ground beneath my feet. Just as my boots are faithful to me in the beautiful season of autumn, so am I, Autumn Boots, faithful to the name given to me by my family and husband. I am Autumn Boots. So try me! But don’t try me on because I might not fit you, but as a friend, I fit every quality.

They look but they don’t see. From the watchtowers they decide, gazing at the waiting crowd. What am I to them? Just one in a sea of faces. Like a fleck of pastel hidden in a Seurat painting, waiting to be noticed. Am I pink? Or white perhaps. Maybe Eggshell, Ivory, or another bland label for paint hues. “Do whatever you set your mind to,” say the individualistic onlookers. Such simple instructions, yet vague and incomplete. Can it all really be reduced to mind over matter? Is this nothing but a socially prescribed idiom, meant to inspire? What then, when the matter is beyond the capabilities of the mind? We are reduced through this process to rats scratching at the doors as the water rises, waiting for a select few to be generously spared. To set the mind on being one of those few is not enough. Even to set the mind, body, and soul on this task would not suffice. Those in power delegate the doors that may open or close before us. We do all we can. We make the grade, we clean beaches, and we write submission essays. “We,” “we,” “we.” All they see is the massive cloud that is “We.” They don’t see me! I refuse to be their overlooked speck in the pointillism! I am Eggshell no longer! I am the fuchsia blossom with leaves of teal that the flecks join to create! I am the vibrant colors that will make your gallery whole!

CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE! It’s flatlining! My career is flatlining! I have got to get a new degree and a new job. Is that CLEAR!? Entering the nursing field at almost forty-years-old is a challenge. I currently hold a biology degree and teach part-time at COTC, the college where I have chosen to pursue my nursing education. Several of my nursing classmates have dealt with me trying to cram anatomy and physiology down their throats. Some of them even survived my foray into being a chemistry instructor. And we really don’t want to talk about that impromptu singing session in biology 101 where I did my karaoke thing with “cranium-acromion-patella-phalanges,” do we? While I am already known to the administrative staff as “that weirdo-biology chic,” I think the “code blue” might just work at getting the underappreciated and sometimes almost code-worthy admissions staff to remember me in a slightly different light; especially if I yelled it while throwing those yummy blue-wrapped Dove chocolates in their direction...

Recent studies show that people tend to remember short, sort of rhythmic, catchy phrases that are repeated over and over. For example, the highly effective advertising campaign for a headache pain reliever went something like this: “HEAD-ON, APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!” “HEAD-ON, APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!” “HEAD-ON, APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!” “HEAD-ON, APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!” “HEAD-ON, APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!” This commercial provides a good example of how to get people to remember the product being advertised. If I wanted the admissions staff at my university to remember me, I would model my presentation after the Head-On commercials. So my shout out to the admissions staff at my university is: “PICK ME, AND GIVE ME LOTS OF MONEY!” “PICK ME, AND GIVE ME LOTS OF MONEY!” “PICK ME, AND GIVE ME LOTS OF MONEY!” “PICK ME, AND GIVE ME LOTS OF MONEY!” “PICK ME, AND GIVE ME LOTS OF MONEY!” “PICK ME, AND GIVE ME LOTS OF MONEY!” “PICK ME, AND GIVE ME LOTS OF MONEY!” I chose to repeat my shout out seven times because studies show that people tend to remember about a maximum of about seven things at a time. I hope that this form of self avocation brings me success with this scholarship. If not, I hope that it is at least memorable.

Ever wonder what Albert Einstein’s favorite flavor of cake was? Ever wonder who ultimately decided we would call the all too familiar “toilet,” toilet? Curiosity strikes often in a mind such as mine. Although there may be a time or two that my curiosity seems a bit foolish, “there is never a dumb question.” My thought provoking style and desire to learn has brought copious amounts of opportunities that had I not asked such a simple question as, “what was Albert Einstein’s favorite flavor of cake?” would not have brought me to the point where I am today. I am asking you to branch out and along with me, ask a silly question, or two, and allow your imagination to soar. My mind has led me to some interesting conclusions and has developed me into the flower I am about to blossom into. With the acceptance into your University, I will continue to allow my mind to soar and increase my desire to learn while soaking up all the information around me, just as a bud would soak up all the nutrients available, in return blossoming into a beautiful rose. Allow me to become part of your student body, and blossom into a beautiful flower, improving and developing your future, my future, our future.

Ban Inhibitions
Dr. Seuss once told us, “Be who you are, and say what you feel. Because, those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.” That quote would change my life forever. It was a quote I learned to live by. To be free, without restrictions. It taught me to not be afraid of who I was. To say and feel things without inhibitions. Too often the youth of our society are told they can’t do something. Inhibitors are forced into our brains that by the time we are young adults we no longer believe in ourselves enough to pursue our dreams. We are no longer free individuals full of creativity and expression.

So if I had a chance to tell the world one thing it would be to, “Ban Your Inhibitions.” Allow yourself to be free from everything that tells you not to. Leave the word can’t out of your vocabulary and see how far it can take you. For some it may be, to take that trip, they “can’t” afford. For others, it may be letting go of that diet that says, you “can’t” be beautiful the way you are. For me however, it would be getting my art out there, in my own store. Something I plan to pursue after college, and with this scholarship make my dream a reality. So you may not be the world, but I encourage you to say “I can”, and “Ban Your Inhibitions!”

Nowadays people say “Can I get your e-mail address?” Or “Can I fax it to you?” or maybe “Did you get my text?” and possibly “I posted it on Facebook.” Remember the days when people would get together on a porch to have a friendly conversation over a glass of lemonade? In the modern day, communication has been immersed in technology. The echoes of conversing voices have been replaced by the sounds of typing and ring tones announcing the arrival of a text message. Real communication is slipping from the grasp of humanity. Students now have the ability to take high school and college classes over the internet, which causes student and teacher verbal communication to become obsolete. Adults are now able to work from home by only communicating with customers via the phone and computer. Currently, the most common way of keeping in touch is through Facebook. Sure, Facebook is a great way to contact those who live too far away to visit, but people will spend hours on end chatting with their friends who live close to them.

As such, I would like to tell the world that a good conversation is eye to eye and that each form of modern day communication has a proper use, but should never take away from the human dimension.

I took a sip of my coffee, let out a yawn and wished sleepily under my breath that the morning session of the workshop would end soon. Suddenly, I heard someone say “Michelangelo once said, The greater danger for most of us lies not in setting our aim too high and falling short; but in setting our aim too low, and achieving our mark.” It was as if someone has just injected me with adrenaline, and I forgot about everything.

Have you ever wondered about the most used word by people around you? For me, that word is ’survive.’ I hear this word being repeated at least once in every conversation, everyday and it seems like nobody wants to live anymore, all they want is survival; it makes me realize that we are all aiming too low, and we are achieving it. We are surviving, but we are not living. I would tell the world:

We are not born to survive; we are designed to fight, we are born to live, to grow, to experience, to laugh, to make mistakes, to learn, to love, to do anything we can and anything we want. Be spontaneous, dream big but pragmatic dreams, be random, laugh at yourself, and aim higher! Aim to live, not to survive.

“Bald is Beautiful!” Last spring, I noticed my hair was thinning. I had thick long blonde hair, so it was hard not to notice the strands that began to litter my home, car, and office. It took three months and three doctors to get a diagnosis. It wasn’t my imagination as the first doctor insinuated. I was truly going bald. I have alopecia areata, an autoimmune condition that causes hair loss. By the time I was diagnosed I lost over 50 percent of my hair. I decided I was done letting my hair loss control me, and that I was going to take control of my hair loss. I walked into a nearby salon, whipped off my wig and asked them to shave my head. It was the most liberating experience of my life. I continued to wear my wig for a week after my new haircut, but I was really feeling uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally. I felt like the wig was a lie, like I was ashamed of myself and had to hide beneath it. I was done hiding. I started going everywhere bald. People didn’t hide their reaction to my baldness, and I can’t blame them. Children pointed, laughed, and stared because they couldn’t fathom the idea of a bald woman. Bald is not a socially acceptable condition for women like it is for men. That is what I want to change. It’s just hair. Think of it as an optional accessory. “Bald is Beautiful!”

Love.

I would say this not as a command, not as an order, but as a suggestion, a suggestion of limitless possibility.

We all know the Beatles once sang, “Love is all you need.”

We all know the Gandhi once stated, “Love never claims, it ever gives.”

And we all know that Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into friend.”

Yet, what I know is that love is the only thing in the world you can never have enough of. It is the one thing, that from the dawn of our very existence, that we have been searching for. It is that ultimate answer. Imagine, if the entire world decided one day to heed my suggestion...tell me, what would the world look like?

A world without hate, a world without war, a world without violence, racism, or evil. If everyone heeded the words of the giants’ quotes above, and heeded my simple suggestion, the world, in the words of John Lennon would “Live as one.”

When we realize that we are all the same, when we realize that we are vastly more powerful together than divided, then perhaps then people would listen. Until then however, I have but one suggestion.

Love

“THANK YOU TO WHOMEVER INVENTED CUPCAKES!”
One cupcake and you will be overcome with nostalgia for your childhood days of, “Dad, can I have a dime please?” before gallivanting off to the nearby bakery.

Give your girlfriend a cupcake and watch as she goes on a Shakespearean soliloquy, “I loveth my boyfriend! ” While other women hysterically demand of their boyfriends, “Why don't you ever do that for me! ” Cupcakes are a woman's best friend during a break-up. Slouching on the couch in sweatpants, with a box of Kleenex, sobbing as you watch The Notebook - a scene we are all too familiar with. Oh, the jubilation of sinking your teeth into this sugary confection - there is no sweeter remedy (no pun intended). Want to see the divorce rate diminish? When your wife screams at you for, ‘Not taking out the trash! ’ Give her a cupcake. I promise that will put the biggest smile on her face. And hey, take out the trash.

Baking cupcakes with mom can earn you ‘brownie points, ’ so the next time she grumbles about how you do not spend enough time with her, exclaims that, “You are shocked, ” that she is so blatantly forgetful.

Still unconvinced? Just ask Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria who was short one last cupcake before his assassination. When the first grenade attempt failed, he shouted to local officials, “So you welcome your guests with bombs. ” Well, he was right; that wasn't very hospitable. He must have been expecting cupcakes.

It was a muggy, summer night in the bustling city of New York. I was a country-bumpkin compared to the sleek natives, who closely resembled an army of ants, minus the stolen picnic goods. I awkwardly made my way through the sea of foreign faces when, against all laws of physics, more people mobbed together in an undistinguishable mass of bodies. The tourists shrieked, and some ambitious ones leaped after the cameras and their only chance of fame. The locals skimmed over the scene with a mild interest at most.

Before I could fully analyze the chaos in front of me, I found myself sucked into the vortex. The grip I had on my sister's hand wasn't strong enough and I found myself alone in the storm. Still disoriented, I was confronted by a young man. He was one of those flawless talk show hosts. He was so beautiful that alien technology must have been utilized to form him. He swiped a spotless smile and nudged a microphone in my face.

“What's your name, little lady?” he purred.

The bright camera lights highlighted my every move as I irrationally felt pressed to defend my beliefs, even my very existence! My thoughts jumbled around in incomprehensible waves. “I'm eighteen years old, short and blonde, family oriented, a firm supporter of equal rights and freedom, a lover of animals and Italian food-”

The spokesperson raised his eyebrow in anticipation and I knew this was my moment.

“My favorite color is blue!”

“Embrace your inner Sponge!”
As fatuous as it seems there are valuable lessons to be found, from a little yellow sponge under the sea. Of course, I am referring to a cartoon character--SpongeBob SquarePants. The character building skills presented by the cartoon should be utilized through adolescence and adulthood. Glimpsing ahead to my near future, achieving a college education, perseverance becomes a dominating attitude. I “embrace my inner sponge” as I face challenges ahead with determination to succeed. SpongeBob is a character full of persistence; he attends boating school every day with eagerness to learn. Regardless of the hundreds of times he has failed his test, he is unwilling to throw in the towel. Starting each day off with enthusiasm, “I'm ready, I'm ready! ” as Mr. SquarePants exclaims, is the best way to face the commitments of the day. Fry cook, SpongeBob has high spirits and pride as he goes work at the “Krusty Krab” restaurant. SpongeBob strives for excellence in every patty he makes, though it seems mundane and unimportant to others, he takes satisfaction in what he has accomplished. As people “Embrace their inner sponge, ” they should feel spirited and a sense of accomplishment in everything they achieve. For college students, like me, it sends a message to go after an education with passion and enthusiasm, and to strive for the highest brilliance. It may seem like a struggle as students' labor their way through college but, “embracing the sponge, ” keeps them positive and successful.

Life is serendipitous; while considering this question, I happened to come across a bumper sticker quoting Derek Bok, the former Harvard president, stating:

“If you think education is expensive, try ignorance!“

Though obviously witty and eye-catching, the words struck a chord in me because they made me think about what life, without education, would be like. Sure, education, in particular college education, is important, but with the economy in decline, is it worth it? Although a college degree unlocks many doors, there are certainly success stories of college dropouts who have still “struck gold.” Are the rising costs of college justified? Are four years in an ivory tower worthwhile? In my opinion, the answer is “yes.” Beyond the increased likelihood of career success, college helps us to better understand the world. College campuses are mini-communities where we, as young adults, can initially experience our independence. What happens outside of college classrooms (i.e., club participation, dorm living, etc.) is just as much a part of the “education” as what occurs in the classroom. The academics equip us with information necessary for achievement and scholarship, but the social learning provides the foundation for civic mindedness and community involvement. So, to those who say that education is a waste of time, money and effort, I respectfully disagree. For the few who are lucky enough to succeed without going to college, I offer my congratulations. For the rest of us, Ignorance is not bliss, and college is the surest way to avoid it.

1997. 19 years old.
“I just need to go. I gotta get back to the mountains.”
“What about finishing school?” Dad asked as he looked thoughtfully at the tomatoes ripening on the vine in the late afternoon sunlight.“School is for those people who can’t tough it out and work their way through. Look at Grandpa. No school. Died as VP of Local 705 in Chicago. I’ll be like him; drive a Coca-Cola truck or haul bricks to the mason or...I don’t know. I’ll do anything. I just can’t handle being cooped up in that damned school. “My old man just sighed and said, “Times were different then, son.” “Times didn’t change, Dad, your generation’s perception of what’s classified as ’qualified’ did.” He just shook his head slowly. I turned and left.

2009. 31 years old.
“I just need to go.”
“What are you going to do for work?”
I sighed, “Dad, I’ve been working like a blind mule that knows nothing more than the routine for twelve years and I’m in no better position now than when I embarked on this whole journey. I’m not too concerned about finding work whilst being a full-time student.” Dad sipped his beer, gave me a wry smile and said, “Well, I’ll be. Times have changed, eh son?” I thought this over for a moment or two and replied, “I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps they have. I do know this for certain: my perception of what’s important to me definitely has.”

A plain bar of iron is worth $5. That same iron, if fashioned into horseshoes, is worth $10.50. If made into needles, the iron is worth $3,285. If turned into balance springs for watches, it is worth over $250,000. People are the same as iron. We begin as raw material, but if we shape and fashion ourselves, our value can increase to immeasurable heights. We can’t do it on our own, however. Education is what provides us with the tools to enhance our significance in this world. As we progress along our school careers, our shapes are chiseled and smoothed. Education helps us clarify who we are and what we are capable of doing in life. As we advance through high school our forms remain abstract and vague. A college education is what really unlocks doors into the working world that allow us to become citizens that actually make a difference. As we work and give back in society our true worth is realized. Education doesn’t end with college. College is a foundation that teaches us how to continue learning throughout our lives. As we live and persist in using the tools our schooling gave us, our raw material will be shaped into works of art that continually grow in value and beauty.

The sun shines in the window of a modest house located near Billings, Montana and sparkles off a new wedding ring. The rich, pungent smell of banana pancakes and crispy bacon floods every room as a young woman, dressed in a soft, ratty nightshirt pours batter onto the griddle. A baby, dressed in nothing but a diaper and fuzzy blue socks romps on the rug with a gentle golden retriever.

In a trendy penthouse, some 2,000 miles away in the Upper East Side of Manhattan, a sharply dressed woman attempts to dress the squirming two-year-old at her feet. The room smells like a mix of perfume, freshly brewed coffee, and baby powder. The young woman passes the little girl off to her husband with a quick kiss to both and a promise of a picnic in Central Park at noon.

These two women lead totally different lives, but a college education allows you to choose whatever life you want. Even if you want nothing more than to be a stay-at-home parent, an education will help you be a better one, and if life throws you a curveball, you will be ready.

Many people think of college merely as an academic education, but I think college teaches more than Psychology and Latin- it helps you to gain confidence and expand your opportunities, to find your direction. I would tell anyone who thinks education does not matter, that college is the key to opening the world of possibilities spread out before you.

Applications and test scores don’t give an accurate description of who a person really is. I hope this helps you understand who I am and why you should choose me for this scholarship.

1. I am Aragorn, Caspian, Eleanor Roosevelt - a good leader and a positive role model.
2. I am Mother Theresa - humble, helpful, and dedicated.
3. I am Anne Sullivan - guide, teacher, and friend.
4. I am Meriwether Lewis and William Clark - I want to explore new, unfamiliar lands.
5. I am Andrew Carnegie - I’ll work hard, earn money, and then give it back to my community and my country.
6. I am Spiderman - determined to use my talents and intelligence for the public good.
7. I am Scrooge on Christmas morning - joyful, generous, and appreciative.
8. I am Hermione Granger - studious, hardworking, friendly, and empathetic.
9. I am NASA - I value teamwork and creativity.
10. I am Ariel - a child of the past and a leader of the future, a believer in integrity, equality, generosity, and dreams. The future is a gift and I give myself to it.

My reasoning may be far-fetched and illogical.
My conclusions may seem unnerving.
But with support that is true and biological,
I will tell you why I am deserving.

I was born without wisdom teeth (1)
A true sign of natural selection.
And I frequently use Purell on my hands, (2)
To resist communicable infection.

My mitotic process can go on for days (3)
And meiosis is another story.
Although I’m always in S1 phase,
Somatic cells are all my glory.

I have mastered the art of cellular respiration(4)
My metabolism is faster than yours, (5)
With some ADP and phosphorlyation
My energy always restores. (6)

I synthesize proteins (7), I hibernate (8) and molt (9)
But there is one analogous structure I lack
If you look in my pockets, you won?t find a bolt (10)
This is why I deserve that big fat stack.

The Top Ten Reasons why the ambiguous you should give me $1000.
1. (bribery): After I become filthy rich and the owner of multiple companies, I shall remember this in our future dealings and will be generous.
2. (blackmail): I know what you did last summer.
3. (flattery): I think whoever came up with this idea of a scholarship is a genius with a cool sense of humor. I also think ScholarshipExperts.com is absolutely amazing.
4. (appeal to emotion): I’ve worked and fought so hard (figuratively) that I have a 96 average and a perfect 1600 SAT Score on the Reading and Math Section. I really deserve a college experience without the college expense. With the $1000, I wouldn?t have to worry about paying for textbooks.
5. (reasoning): I’ve recommended ScholarshipExperts.com so many times that giving me the scholarship is like paying me for being a salesperson.
6. (guilt part I): Trying to be creative is giving me a headache, so you should feel bad.
7. (guilt part II): However, if you give me the scholarship, I’ll be happy and my headache will go away, and you will be left with a warm fuzzy feeling. Warm fuzzy feelings are always great.
8. (fairness): I’ve saved the world (and your lives along with it) so many times that it’s only fair that I get the $1000.
9. (pleading): Please, please, please, please, may I please have the $1000?
10. (truth): I really need the money.

Top Ten Reasons I Need This Scholarship
10. I’m not having any success finding all the money I need between the cushions of my couch.
9. All of my bedroom furniture is made out of empty pizza boxes and soda cans; thus, my friends joke I give a whole new meaning to the word ’recycled.’
8. I tried publishing a novel I wrote for extra cash but almost got in trouble for copying J.K. Rowling. (I swear Marty Hopper the psychic boy with a magical raven named Sparky does NOT resemble Harry Potter. At all.)
7. My parents are right: Money DOESN’T grow on trees. I searched all over the local nature preserve. Nada.
6. Panning for gold is a lot harder than it looks.
5. Saying, “Show me the money!” three times in the mirror does not evoke the spirit of Cuba Gooding, Jr. with a bag full of cash.
4. No one is bidding on my eBay auction of an empty bottle of soda I found at an NSync concert almost a decade ago, despite the certificate I’m including that states Lance Bass drank from it.
3. I’ve already sold all of my teeth to the Tooth Fairy. (Eating nothing but mashed potatoes and pudding is getting REALLY old.)
2. It’s difficult selling lemonade in my neighborhood, especially for $15 a cup, plus tax.
1. Getting a good education is priceless.

Sitting at my computer, I digest the knowledge that within these brief sentences rests my sole opportunity to impress upon a panel of perfect strangers the reasons why I could possibly deserve this scholarship. I ask myself: how can I cajole and convince? What theatrics with the written word am I to perform? What elements or anecdotes do I have at my disposal that I could employ to turn their thoughts in my favor? Drama, comedy? Would any of it help my cause?

It seems that I have not found those answers. I realize that all I have is the simple truth of my desires, which speak eloquently enough and without pretense.

I am a child that wishes to be heard. I am a student that longs to learn. I am a teacher of the heart. I am an artist that craves an audience. I am a daughter that loves my mother. I am a girl that dreams of pursuing realities. I am a woman that refuses to be victimized by gender stereotypes. I am a humanitarian that holds with the adage that actions speak louder than words.

I am distinct, not a faceless applicant.

I am an individual

1. Invent a new color. I will not do that by just mixing preexisting ones, either. No, I will come up with a completely new color palette from which to mix my color, and then name it “Keesler’s Kolor.”

2. Become the proud owner of a dairy farm in Vermont. I will even wear a shirt that says “Proud dairy farm owner.”

3. FLY a plane.

4. Be the person at a press conference who stands behind the person actually speaking (just because they are the most interesting to watch, since you only have their facial expression to go by), and nod my head, frowning, the whole time.

5. Go to Wimbledon dressed in a John McEnroe costume and yell “You CANNOT be SERIOUS!!” at the linesman.

6. Speak in a British accent at an important job interview.

7. Drop a banner from atop the Eiffel tower in 2016 that announces my presidential pick.

8. Travel to each state in the United States and keep in touch with one person I met in each state for the rest of my life.

9. Set aside fifteen minutes every day to TAKE IT ALL IN!!!

10. Successfully encourage others to do what makes them happy in life, no matter how wacky, tacky, silly, or impossible it may seem to others.

For my eyes, to behold the magnificent and beautiful Niagara Falls, to gaze in wonder at its size and grasp just how amazing our world really is.

For my lungs, to breathe in the fresh air of Washington’s Alpine Lakes Wilderness, or any other wilderness for that matter. This Las Vegas smog is making me choke up this morning’s French toast...

For my toes, a dip in the gorgeous Caribbean.

For my mouth, a taste of Japan’s finest cuisines. Sashimi anyone?

For my body, the adrenaline of jumping off a plane and skydiving over Southern California.
For my mind, the knowledge necessary to save lives and contribute to cancer research. Oh, how I have dreamed of finding the cure for cancer... For my ears, rich harmonious music played by a symphony orchestra.

For my hands, a big fat stack of money that was well-earned. (Legally, of course...)

For my heart, finding true love, finding the one who makes my heart race a hundred miles an hour.

For my soul, pure happiness in all shapes and sizes.

Instructions: Choose the best answer:

1. I want to finish ___ in order to obtain an education.
   A. this test
   B. my lunch
   C. college

2. I am planning to write a (n) ___. But who isn’t, these days?
   A. encyclopedia
   B. binding legal document
   C. book

3. I enjoy immersing myself in the exotic. Therefore, I wish to travel ___.
   A. through time
   B. by taxi
   C. the world

4. Not all foreign movies have subtitles! To remedy this tragedy, I will become a ___.
   A. cowboy
   B. superhero
   C. polyglot

5. The art of ___ fascinates me. I would love to partake in creating cinematic magic.
   A. wine
   B. mime
   C. film

6. Being a Type A personality, I will make sure to start and CEO my own ___ someday.
   A. garage band
   B. soap opera
   C. company

7. Debt is bad. Winning this scholarship will help me reach my goal of becoming ___.
   A. Mr. Scrooge
   B. a spendthrift
   C. debtless

8. It is not easy to achieve optimal ___, but I will succeed! One less chocolate bar at a time.
   A. lottery numbers
   B. phone service
   C. health

9. At the risk of ending up in ___ textbooks, I dream of immortality by changing the world.
   A. boring
   B. high school
   C. history
   D. all of the above

10. One day, I will fulfill the pursuit of ___.
   A. trivia
   B. life, liberty, and property
   C. happiness

1) Accidentally walk through a movie set and cause the entire cast to restart the scene.

2) During a leisurely park visit, hypnotize a pigeon with the hopes of controlling the decision of its next victim.

3) Astonish myself with undiscovered kung fu abilities by dominating an unexpected kung fu fight; possibly involving a feud between lovers and possibly located in a black tie environment.

4) Try on a British accent for a day.

5) Give flowers, probably dandelions or some sort of cattail, to strangers on a bustling city street.

6) Study telepathy and use it to lead an unforeseen penguin revolt in a major zoo.

7) Conceal myself in the center of a circular clothes rack and inconspicuously make my way from one end of the store to the other.

8) Intentionally start a chain reaction of contagious yawning in a waiting room or elevator where people are near enough that they will attempt persistently to stifle the yawns.

9) Initiate a food fight that involves some sort of aerodynamic potato, but deny starting it entirely and leave before things get too messy.

10) Feel like I gave something back to the world...

I promise to do my best not to make this a top ten list of boring cliches with predicable things such as “climb Mt. Everest or vacation in France.” Without further delay I present my Top Ten List of possible (and impossible) things I want to accomplish in my lifetime.

1. Teach English in Japan.

2. Burn my birth certificate, social security card and driver’s license and hitch-hike across the country in the spirit of Christopher McCandless.

3. When a person’s cell phone rings in class, throw it out the window.

4. Pay off my student loans before I retire.

5. Live in a tree house complete with spiral staircase.

6. Write a novel even if my mother is the only one to ever read it.

7. Here’s an odd one, hug a penguin. Why? Because I’ve wanted to since I was a little sticky fingered, snot nosed brat. They just look so cuddly!

8. I would like to win something because I’ve never won anything (the lottery or a scholarship would be nice) and I want to know what it feels like.

9. Create a time machine and go back and see all those great bands that happened before I was born. I don’t expect there to be another Hendrix, Morrison or The Beatles in the near future.

10. To follow in the footsteps of Alan Booth and walk from cape Soya, Japans northernmost point, to Cape Sata, Japans southernmost point.

10. The Water Scholarship - Eligible only if you’re a fish-form of some sort. Hold your breath for 10 minutes and receive $20,000! Counted in “Mississippi” seconds.

9. Sky Dive a Target - Released 20,000 feet and parachute your way down to three targets. Land in one and you could win big! All hands and feet must be inside the circle. Circles are 2 feet wide.

8. Curious Jorge Scholarship - Disguise yourself as a banana and walk a monkey through the city. Four hours of footage must be taped. No one is to lick you.

7. The Speed Limit Scholarship - Text 200 words in two minutes and win $2,000 Thumbs are not allowed to be numbed before.

6. Three Times the Sixty Scholarship - Jump 60 times in 60 seconds naming 60 items found in a grocery store. You won’t win anything, but we like to see foolish people!

5. Five Guys Burgers and Cries - Finish one burger before America’s next top model! Note: you have plenty of time.

4. The Plastic Fantastic Scholar - Get a nose job that replicates Owen Wilson’s! Breaking of the nose is against rules.

3. The Countdown Scholarship - Tell us exactly what you dreamt last night while blasting into space! Win $5,000. Must be collected in 24 earth hours.

2. Get Even - Talk for one day in words of two, four or six letters!

1. Hidden Scholarship - You’ll never find it, but it’s worth $100,000. Good Luck!

10. World of Warcraft Seeker of Magic Scholarship- Become the first player to capture the special Orc Unicorn in the Forest of Magic.

9. Klingon Essay Writing Contest- Please write an essay in Klingon about the war in Afghanistan and the battle techniques the United States must employ to win.

8. Michael Moore’s Personal Chef - Through healthy cooking, help Michael Moore lose 50+ pounds.

7. Rush Limbaugh’s Fact Checker - Research during Rush’s rants and provide corrections at the end of each show. Catch all errors to win.

6. Entrepreneur of the Streets - Create a business plan for raising capital to sell consumer products in inner cities. Winning essays should include a Phase 2 business plan for suburban expansion.

5. Large Hadron Collider (LHC) Pioneer Award - Develop the mathematics to either prove or disprove a black hole will result from the running of the LHC.

4. Interior Design Challenge- Design and decorate a remodeling project inspired by Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged”. Entries must include 1:12 scale models and color renderings.

3. “I’m so great I break glass” Contest- Create a quartet and write a song capable of shattering glass. Test performances will be held in Chicago on March 31, 2010.

2. Bailout Award - Apply for a cash infusion from the U.S. Treasury Department.

1. Machiavellian Scholarship - In no less than 5,000 words, create an original, detailed plan for world domination, with the caveat that a shadow government must wield the true power. Extensive research required.

Someone mentioned bizarre scholarships? The following are the most “creative” ones I have found.

For the artist out there: Handled scholarship. Submit your best hand drawing and become a contestant.

Find yourself wandering off in the stars? Neither do I, but some do though, hence the Space Age scholarship; astronomy-bound students are given a list of stars to find. The catch: no telescope.

The Horrible scholarship is exactly that. Inspired by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the applicants are told to write the best original horror story based on their University of choice.

Best way to make people aware of immigrant life: make people survive on a learned and made up language in the big apple for one day and call it Truth scholarship.

Shakespearean plays are tragic to read; but take your shot at the Shakespearean Scholarship. Just memorize one Shakespeare play and act it out with friends.

Helping the elderly cross the road is nice. Getting paid for it is even better.The Youth-filled scholarship awards those tender souls.

If your parents have an old, outdated record in the basement somewhere, it might just be your lucky day. The Oldies scholarship is on the hunt for the oldest record out there.

That is a Humorous scholarship. Apparently, having the biggest Humorous is something worth getting paid for.

Beware Psychologist. On camera and in pressure, if people tell you their most bizarre experience, you might win the Psycho scholarship.

Lick Your Elbow for a Full-Ride scholarship. Absolutely no explanation needed.

10.) College Clickathon: Whoever clicks the button the most times in 30 seconds wins the money!

9.) 1337 Scholarship: Applicants must hack into a database to apply.

8.) Game Master Scholarship: Applicants are challenged with beating a simple online game. Highest score after a time period wins the scholarship.

7.) Friend to Students Scholarship: Applicants must add or improve a Wikipedia article.

6.) Antithesis Scholarship: Who wasn’t your greatest influence? What do you not plan to do after college? etc...

5.) Best Joke Scholarship: Applicants must submit original jokes, which are then judged.

4.) Boring Name Scholarship: May only apply if your name is John Smith.

3.) Scavenger Scholarship: Applicants must follow clues to hidden websites where they are eventually allowed to apply.

2.) Scholarship for the Literarily Impaired: Questions are all math problems.

1.) Majorities Need Money Too: Only middle class white healthy males may apply.

Rebecca's Top 10 Crazy/Unique Scholarships Moms Who Need Assistance

10. Rubber Ducky Scholarship- This scholarship provides $500 to the mom whose child can fit the most rubber ducks in the bathtub with them (picture required)

9. Baby Food Scholarship- This scholarship provides $750 to the mom whose baby can eat baby food green beans without making a "yucky" face (video required)

8. Crazy Hair scholarship- This scholarship provides $1000 to the mom who can make their baby's hair stand straight up the longest (video required)

7. Spaghetti Face Scholarship- This scholarship provides $1200 to the mom who can provide the best "spaghetti face" scholarship (picture required)

6. Bubble Blower Scholarship- This scholarship provides $1500 to the mom who can make the biggest bubble gum bubble (picture required)

5. Snowman Making Scholarship- This scholarship provides $1750 to the mom and kids who can build the best snowman (video required)

4. Trampoline Scholarship- This scholarship provides $2000 to the mom who can best act like a kid again. The scholarship is awarded to the mom who can jump the longest on a trampoline (video required)

3. Healthy Dessert Scholarship- This scholarship provides $2500 to the mom who can bake the healthiest dessert (ingredients, nutrition information, and product required)

2. Time Juggler Scholarship- This scholarship provides $3000 to the mom who shows she juggles her time the best (i.e. work, school, kids, soccer games, etc...video required)

1. #1 Mom Scholarship- This scholarship provides $5000 to the mom we feel is #1. (Essay Required)

1. I am a Filipino-Russian-Jew; a random mix that has made me look either Italian or Latino, but I'm not.

2. The only break-dancing/ballerina I know is me. That comes in handy at school dances.

3. Who else would have the bravery to play a male cop with beard taped down chest and hidden curves in the school play? I certainly do.

4. I have the ability of staying pretty feminine looking, while burping rather impressively and man-like.

5. I was born underwater; scary, maybe, awesome, YES!

6. I have helped delivered a small child (my youngest brother) at birth, underwater, on national television, at age 10!

7. I feel like I might be related to Beyonce due to killer dance moves in high heels and leotards.

8. I love hanging out with elderly folks and singing or dancing with them.

9. I make delicious Filipino food. I could whip some up for you if you would like!

10. I have watched every episode of every season of the Amanda Show. I am a dedicated fan to the randomness of Amanda Bynes. 

Sandy Beach, "Wave Magazine," asked 10 Marine experts who should receive this scholarship, here's what they’ve said:

-Caitlin Harding turns her dreams of becoming a marine biologist into real world activities.
I. Ron Sheff, author: Sustainable Sushi.

-Ms. Harding has taken many challenging courses in high school and was recently named an Illinois State Scholar.
Ima Sturgeon, Dean, School of Fish.

-C. Harding was inspired by her attendance at the Washington Youth Summit for the Environment this past summer.
Jett Stream, anchor, "Mild Weather Review."

-Caitlin Harding would like her experience as a volunteer at the Shedd Aquarium to develop into a career.
C. Turtle, author: The Shell Game.

-Ms. Harding wants to protect and enrich the world's marine waters as a Marine Biologist.
Cali Mari, Ink International.

-The more Caitlin Harding studies biology, the more she realizes that it is a career for her.
Ay Eels Extraordinaire editors.

-C. Harding sees dolphins and can practically hear them calling:”Work with us.”
Dolf Inne, proprietor, Key West Bed and Breakfast.

-Ms. Harding's experiences as a scuba diver have only strengthened her motivation to work towards a career as a Biologist.
Barry O. Reef, Inc., Dive master.

-Caitlin Harding sees things such as the devastation produced by the recent BP Oil Spill, and she wants to help out.
Jonah, "Whale Digest."

-I predict Ms. Caitlin Harding will become as big an expert on Marine Mammals as Jack Hannah is on zoos. She's cuter, too!
Captain Ahab, mariner.

Top Ten Reasons I should get this scholarship

10. My good looks are only going to get me so far.

9. The maid job I have in my own home does not come with a paycheck.

8. My 5 year old son's piggy bank only has so much money in it.

7. They don't pay at the blood banks any more.

6. At 36, married with 3 children, moving back home with 'Mom' isn't an option.

5. When I asked my parents to help with college tuition, they thought I meant for their grand-kids.

4. My husband refuses to become an underwear model.

3. Babysitting for a living leaves Sesame Street as my only choice of formal education.

2. My 10 year old daughter is better at math [than] I am.

1. And the top reason I should get this scholarship... otherwise my 15 year old daughter might have to pay for MY college tuition once SHE graduates from college!

Top Ten Reasons I should get this scholarship:

1. I'm poor. I used to be dirt poor, but they repossessed the dirt.

2. I'm an excellent student. I'm too old to party, so all I do is work and study.

3. If I get this scholarship, the first thing that I will say to any new person I meet is that the judges of this scholarship are excellent people with impeccable grooming habits.

4. You want to give away money for school. I need money for school. We're a perfect match.

5. I promise I won't correct your grammar in public.

6. I'm immune to Jedi mind tricks. I know those were the droids for which they were looking.

7. I have unique talents. I can recite the alphabet backwards and carry small objects on my head.

8. I've never copied and pasted a Facebook status. I am an independent thinker.

9. I know what an Oxford comma is and how to properly use one.

10. I'm the oldest student in many of my classes. I'd like to finish college before I need to wear adult diapers. I'm highly motivated.

Ten quotes of why I deserve this scholarship:

1. Buzz Lightyear, "To infinity and beyond." The total number of reasons I need this scholarship.

2. Eugene Cernan, "Dream and then roam in the stars." I have big dreams of becoming an astronaut.

3. Unknown, "Spaced Out!" because I'll freak out if I can't afford college.

4. Flight Director Gene Kranz, "Failure is not an option." I never give up on anything.

5. Eugene Cernan, "We shall return, with peace, and hope for all mankind." I want to return to the moon and then go even farther.

6. Robert F. Kennedy, "Some men see things as they are and say, 'Why?' I dream of things that never were and say, 'Why not?'" Anything is possible, including getting this scholarship.

7. John D. Rockefeller, "Don't be afraid to give up the good to go for the great." Good idea: free community college, Great idea: Scholarships for great college.

8. J. P. Morgan, "Go as far as you can see; when you get there, you'll be able to see farther." Step 1: Major, Step 2: Masters, Step 3: PhD, Step 4: Astronaut

9.Archimedes, "Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world." I will make a difference in the world through space exploration.

10.Unknown, "Money doesn't grow on trees." If it did then I'd go find a ladder.

A good book on a chilly winter night, curled up in an over-stuffed chair, situated by a large stone fireplace is my idea of a perfect weekend.  As I imagine sipping my latte and wrapping my Native American wool blanket around me, I snuggle with my carefully chosen book and allow my mind to drift away to foreign lands, ancient eras and mystical creatures.
To start my magical winter reading escapade, I choose a famous trilogy from my paper smorgasbord; The Hunger Games, Catching Fire and Mocking Jay by Suzanne Collins.  Having whetted my diverse appetite, I then devour The Oath, by Frank Peretti, which satisfies my sweet tooth for a dark mystery.  Fantasy is next in my imaginary book buffet; The Mists of Avalon, by Marion Zimmer Bradley would suffice.  Suddenly, I impulsively read,  The Cobra Event, by Richard Preston,  which jolts me back to reality and tempts me to dip in for seconds of the same intense flavor; The Hot Zone, also by Richard Preston.  After reading the horrors of bio-terrorism, my reading palate longs for something light and fruity; Where the Mountain Meets the Moon, by Grace Lin draws my mind into the quest for finding hidden treasures.  The Four Agreements, by Don Miguel Ruiz, makes a useful utensil in finding those golden morsels. Finally, I end my ten course meal with a fine port; The Eternal Ones, by Kirsten Miller, which entertains the possibilities of different dimensions. I close the book and await my next reading adventure.

Looking for something to read, I looked over my favorite books, lovingly placed in their own special shelf over my desk. Perusing the collection, I contemplated each. I have always sympathized with the message of personal achievement and responsibility in Atlas Shrugged, and Johannes Cabal: The Necromancer's dark humor, witty protagonist, and surprisingly well-characterized Satan has always satisfied my inner misanthrope. While Brave New World, may not be as popular as 1984, I think its message of tyranny through pleasure to be more relevant in today's world, I love Brook's seriousness about something so absurd in The Zombie Survival Guide, and Guns of the South offers a fascinating look at the Civil War and the realities of the Confederacy, two always interesting topics. While it may be a bit dry, War Through the Ages, with its in-depth analysis of every conflict since the primitive days of Greek wars, always satisfies my inner military history geek, Montmorency, with its noble antihero and inspiring tale of redemption, is an old childhood favorite, and though it was never finished, the sly humor and fascinating moralizing present in The Canterbury Tales is always a fun read. Ending my reverie of bibliophilic memories, I quickly grab a Piers Anthony novel, feeling in the mood more for entertainment than self-improvement, leaving the books that have touched me most in their worn-out condition between my only two bookstands on that lonely shelf.

Molded by experience, assembled through the knowledge and creations of others, books have had a matchless impact on my construction. Reading Chicken Soup for the Soul in my youth, I developed a passion for life and recognized the joy in helping others. My drive towards humanitarian work, intellectual development, and personal growth, along with the novel Better, by Atul Gawande, has helped me to select a profession in medicine. To Kill a Mocking Bird, by Harper Lee, nurtured my empathetic nature and my appreciation of diversity. Holes, by Louis Sachar, taught me persistence and the significance of defending one's beliefs. Stephanie Meyer's book, Breaking Dawn,showed me an undiminishing love and friendship that I strive for in relationships. The Oxford book of Quotations, allowed me to escape the realm of my own mind and move momentarily into the life and thoughts of another. My creativity was further expanded when I read the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. I developed an interest in the earth's history with: A Short History of Nearly Everything, by Bill Bryson. The Language of Life, by Francis Collins, provoked thoughts about the advances in medicine and technology that will occur in my lifetime and helped me to define my medical school research interests. Most influential was The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, by Stephen Covey, a book that developed my leadership skills, stimulated my ambition, and helped to define my life goals. These ten books are part of my construction; different bricks forming my edifice. 

CONGRATULATIONS on your purchase, or more likely, inheritance of Generation 1994! For seventeen years, Generation 1994 has provided youthful joy and energy to older persons worldwide. You can change the world with your Generation 1994!

TO OPERATE

1. 1. Set to "High Potential."  
2. 2. Point at little sister or pressing world issue and release. 

CARE INSTRUCTIONS

1. 1. Every 3-4 years, try to get a ruse out of your Generation 1994 by declaring the end of the world. We suggest December 31, 2012.
2. 2. Your Generation 1994 comes equipped with Global Problem Awareness and ambition to fix problems. (Exact method not included.)
3. 3. The product is vulnerable to heart complications. To extend lifespan and achieve optimal performance, store your Generation 1994 in a low-fat environment.
4. 4. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO UNPLUG GENERATION 1994, EVEN WITH YOUR FEET. Deprivation of technology or social media may be deleterious to your sanity.  
5. 5. The product is state-of-the-art in people manufacture! Generation 1994 will take time to find a job they love and marry. Allow up to ten years before it moves out of your house.
6. 6. If "Macarena" or "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" comes on and your product starts to vibrate, DO NOT PANIC. Call Customer Service and they will promptly determine you are a bonehead. DO NOT SUBMERGE THE PHONE YOU ARE USING IN ACID, AS THIS COULD VOID YOUR WARRANTY. THIS COULD ALSO DESTROY YOUR PHONE.
7. 7. Generation 1994 is incompatible with: typewriters, Walkmans, A-Track tapes, Betamax, dial telephones, and parents. 

Pssst! Hey you! Do you want to hear a secret? Lean in a little closer, this isn't something that everyone and their great Aunt Sally needs to hear. You see, I am not a mere mortal like yourself. Instead, myself and every other person born with me in the year 1995 actually belong to the supreme class of beings known as superheroes. We are not your ordinary superheroes, mind you. While Batman and Superman are the bomb, us 1995ers have a little more social sense than to wear our scandalously scarlet underwear over our ridiculously tight blue Speedos. The powers we possess as a group are far more consequential and significant than any powers displayed by only one being. When people see students born in 1995, they often write us off as inconsequential teenagers, simply struggling with the challenges that come with a developing sense of identity. However, what they tend to forget, is that we are the future. This is the super power all my fellow superheroes hold in common. All around me I see my comrades breaking new ground by becoming the “tech savvy” generation; embracing Facebook and Twitter to heighten our social understanding. We are fervently participating in the movement to quell global issues like child poverty and the threat of climate change not only because we can empathize with the plight, but also because we know we can change the future. This is what people often forget about us 1995 superheroes, that we are the future.

Click Clack: The steady sound of my footsteps echoing down the hall. Donning a white lab coat with clipboard in hand, I check the board to find out who I am operating on today. “Adams, H,” it says. I check my patient files and discover I'm performing a simple craniotomy to excise the area of the brain that is causing the patient's hippocampal sclerosis, a common procedure that takes about three hours to complete. I remember residency where no craniotomy ever finished before four hours - even the simple ones. Now, at 30, I have just completed my surgical residency and I practice at Kaiser Permanente in San Francisco. Admittedly, I'm nervous about starting on my own. It's not as if I haven't performed surgeries by myself before, but this time my failures will fall on me. Not the chief resident, not my supervisor - me. In 2011, the younger more zealous me thought I'd be the best neurosurgeon this side of the Mississippi River. Can I live up to that expectation? As I step into surgery, all the nervous energy transforms into a mentality of diligence and dedication, thankfully so. I realize I can do this; after all, my teenaged self, husband, kids, and ScholarshipExperts.com who gave me $1,996 to fund my college education are all rooting for me.