For our Narrative project in English we were challeneged to write a lyrical essay. a lyrical essay is a form of creative non-fiction and they can be about anything. Anything and everything. They can be in any formatting and as long or as short as the writer wants them to be. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
To begin our lyrical essay journey we started by reading and analyzing lyrical essays written by well-known authors. These include people such as Ross Gay. We wwere then tasked with writing our own lyrical essay. It could be about anything we wanted and be however long we wanted. I wrote mine based off of my feelings about youth and growing up. Something I thought to be especially pertinent since most people I knew (myself included) were in the midst of applying to college. I also tied in an extended metaphor to customer service because when do I not invlude something that relates to that into one of my pieces? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Youth is defined by the Merriam-Webster dictionary as <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe period between adolescence and maturity\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Meanwhile, the term \u2018coming of age\u2019 is defined as <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe attainment of maturity, recognition, and respectability\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I stand at the end of the checkout counter bouncing balls and chunks of play-doh roll down the shiny metal slide into my awaiting hands. Just before putting the play-doh in the bag I give it a little squish, and gape in shock as the cheese bends and holds its shape. \u2018It\u2019s just like play-doh\u2019<\/em>. <\/em>I continue squishing the cheese while I wait for the heavy blocks, finding the moldable form satisfying. But these are not toys. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Lifting the flimsy handles into the carts, the transaction goes through as wrinkled faces smile back at me. I tell them \u201cHave a Good Day\u201d. But there\u2019s two transactions going on here. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Stepping inside Draegers is a trip to the nineties. Scuffed floors with alternating black and white diamonds, a pastry case that has seen better days, and a rotating flower shelf surround the entrance. Customers yearning for the \u201cgood old days\u201d, and lament the loss of their youth while trudging through the doors. They bundle themselves in coats and hunch over their carts. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Nolan, the sommelier often tells me how he wishes he was young again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI would do things differently.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI wouldn\u2019t be a stupid boy.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI would be better.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n Even customers do it: <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI wish I was young again.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh my gosh, you\u2019re a baby, how old are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re the youngest checker I\u2019ve ever seen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Now that I\u2019m almost an adult, I too find myself desiring for the days when I was a child again, when everything was easy. When I had fewer worries and fewer concerns about the world than I do now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But even that comes at a cost. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Innocence and Ignorance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n are the cost. <\/p>\n\n\n\n And it\u2019s expensive. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I will pay for my responsibility with my ignorance and my innocence. All those things that kids don\u2019t have to do come at a cost in freedom. Freedom to decide. Freedom to roam. Freedom to choose. <\/p>\n\n\n\n This transaction. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But perhaps at the very core of it, there\u2019s something else that\u2019s a part of the problem. I\u2019m sure I can\u2019t be the only one who always wants what they can\u2019t have. When I was younger I wanted to be older because I only saw the fun parts of it. Making your own choices, partying until the sun scorches the sky, and living without limitations. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Only yourself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n To rely on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n To blame. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t see the stress behind making the decisions. I never knew how identities blew in the wind like loose leaves on a fall day. Desperately searching for who they are. Maybe maturity is a place where hundreds of versions of myself become one. <\/p>\n\n\n\n They are all me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Life history theory argues that people grow up faster in hostile environments. Safer environments result in a slower life strategy. Kids stay kids longer and are generally more reluctant to grow up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n This is all based on perceptions, meaning parents may not perceive an environment as hostile as a child might. Perhaps some kids grow up faster in order to get away from those who are blind to their pain. <\/p>\n\n\n\n They grow up to escape their youth. To leave behind their pain and start anew while others aren\u2019t ready to let go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere are hundreds of me\u2019s inside of me\u201d,<\/p>\n\n\n\n But which one is valid?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I am looking at a highlight reel of lives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Which one is the real me?<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHello world? Is this the youth you promised me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n What is youth?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/em> <\/em><\/em> <\/em><\/em>\u201cThe period between adolescence and maturity\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Is that all it is<\/em>?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n No. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s a place where hundreds of versions of myself <\/p>\n\n\n\n become one.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n Below is audio of me reading my podcast. This was also my lyrical essay production for our Lyrical Essay Production project. <\/p>\n\n\n\n