Here are a few of my favorite souvenirs that have spent their fair share of time in my senior backpack…and may still be found rotting away if you look deep enough. They might be a little gross, but they’ve provided me with emotional support through the roller coaster that is high school; I’ll truly be sad to let them go. A tear may or may not be shed post backpack clean-out.
Chomps 100% grass-fed beef jerky stick:
Road trips with my siblings always meant splitting Jack Link’s beef sticks from random gas stations along the way. I’ve continued this tradition in my treks across the perilous halls of Northwood. While the Chomps sticks from our student store don’t hold quite the same flavor, they have saved my neck when I’ve least expected it. Try using one as a substitute for your Apple Pencil when drawing graphics: you’ll be surprised at how well it works!
Baby’s first investment (I love my iPad):
Although I don’t like to admit it, I’m an iPad baby at heart. It’s shaped a huge aspect of my high school career, especially as an artist, and I don’t think I’d end up in the same place today without it—for better or for worse. For example, I have spent more hours diving for mythical fish on Roblox than I have on writing my college essays. At the same time, though, I’m extremely grateful for my access to digital art, as it’s the sole reason I’m even in Howler today.
Perhaps without my iPad I might’ve become a world-famous Gacha Life YouTuber or finger-art-on-cell-phone warrior. Or a murder mystery author. Or maybe a scientific genius…? Okay probably not that one but I can still dream.
Packet of salami, half-devoured:
Notice a pattern? The ever-growing mound accumulating in my stomach might just be a heart-attack-inducing amalgamation of salt, cheese and savoury charcuterie meats. My happiness, I’ve grown to discover, entirely depends on what goes into my mouth. Aaand I suppose the friends I get to share it with (thanks for always being down to snack with me, you guys).
If you miss me, try waiting in front of your local Trader Joe’s, peppered salami in hand. With such a tempting offering, I may just appear.
Fungus-encrusted half-soles (gross…):
Performance is not something mini-me ever believed I could be involved in. I still remember trembling as I entered my first dance class as a wee sophomore, jelly-legged and lacking any confidence in myself or my body’s ability to move. I remember trembling once more the first time I walked into Howler, scared out of my mind of the well-spoken writers surrounding me, who seemed worlds away from my timid self.
I’ve worried, feared and trembled so many times about so many moments. Yet, looking back at the end of this year, I realize how much I actually enjoyed the time I’ve spent, holed up and busy in some corner of this school, dancing and singing and sketching (and always neglecting my Calculus homework).
None of my imagined fears have made it into my reality. Slipping into my half-soles and taking that first step onto the stage, both physically and metaphorically, has led me into avenues I never thought I’d be able to explore. I’ve worn these soles down into crusted little messes, and I don’t regret a single second.
