Writing in the light of day
Live everyday to the fullest
Melanie Mallory
Issue date: 11/24/08 Section: Opinion
In the spring of 2005, at age 16, myself and a group of friends made a haphazard plan to start our own underground newspaper. The whole plan fell apart quickly, of course, but in a hiccup of inspiration I wrote my first article, under the pseudonym Elliot Harlo. Although my writing abilities have improved somewhat since high school, I believe I was on to something meaningful and poignant when I wrote this article, and I think it's time it came out of my journals.
"We're food for worms, boys." I love this quote. I know many of my peers do not care for The Dead Poets Society, as it is an eternal favorite of English teachers in high schools all over the nation. However, I think that this quote, if nothing else, makes the film one worth watching.
It's a good quote because it's true; we are food for worms - one day, me, you, Uncle Jack and Aunt Sally, and everyone you know, will die. It sounds like I'm being morbid, but I'm really just trying to spur my peers into action. Not many of us young'un's have considered the fact that death is certain. One day, we'll stop breathing and that'll be the end of it.
This life is the only one you've got, and there are no do-overs. Glance at yesterday. Did anything happen? Did nothing happen? Are you satisfied with nothing? I'm not. I see too many days of sitting around, too many times where instead of throwing myself into the world, I held back. I let my inhibitions control me. But then there are other times.
I just recently moved to the Houston area, but I used to live near the mountains, and I was fortunate enough to have a season pass for five years to a small, mom-and-pop ski and board park. I love snowboarding. It does something for me that sitting around on the computer or watching TV never does, and I don't mean exercise.
Imagine: You're surrounded by white - white ground, white trees, white sky, as if you had suddenly fallen into a different dimension. There is no one around you. All you can hear is the roar of your board slicing over the snow and ice beneath you. The wind pushes against you, biting at your face and making your eyes water - and suddenly you fly an impressive foot and a half into the air, and you're soaring. 'This is what life is all about!' you cry. You holler up at the heavens, give a primeval yell as life swirls around you. And then you crash, but it doesn't make the flight any less worth it.
"We're food for worms, boys." I love this quote. I know many of my peers do not care for The Dead Poets Society, as it is an eternal favorite of English teachers in high schools all over the nation. However, I think that this quote, if nothing else, makes the film one worth watching.
It's a good quote because it's true; we are food for worms - one day, me, you, Uncle Jack and Aunt Sally, and everyone you know, will die. It sounds like I'm being morbid, but I'm really just trying to spur my peers into action. Not many of us young'un's have considered the fact that death is certain. One day, we'll stop breathing and that'll be the end of it.
This life is the only one you've got, and there are no do-overs. Glance at yesterday. Did anything happen? Did nothing happen? Are you satisfied with nothing? I'm not. I see too many days of sitting around, too many times where instead of throwing myself into the world, I held back. I let my inhibitions control me. But then there are other times.
I just recently moved to the Houston area, but I used to live near the mountains, and I was fortunate enough to have a season pass for five years to a small, mom-and-pop ski and board park. I love snowboarding. It does something for me that sitting around on the computer or watching TV never does, and I don't mean exercise.
Imagine: You're surrounded by white - white ground, white trees, white sky, as if you had suddenly fallen into a different dimension. There is no one around you. All you can hear is the roar of your board slicing over the snow and ice beneath you. The wind pushes against you, biting at your face and making your eyes water - and suddenly you fly an impressive foot and a half into the air, and you're soaring. 'This is what life is all about!' you cry. You holler up at the heavens, give a primeval yell as life swirls around you. And then you crash, but it doesn't make the flight any less worth it.
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