"Snickerdoodle Recipe" by Kati E.

 

Snickerdoodle Recipe

 

Hi everyone! Today I am going to teach you how to make snickerdoodles the way my family has been making them since before I was born. This is one of my favorite treats to bake simply because the dough tastes good and it is fun to roll the dough into balls. The difference between a snickerdoodle and a regular sugar cookie is the snickerdoodle has cream of tartar which gives the cookie a slight tangy flavor to offset the sweetness. The cream of tartar also gives the cookies their signature cracks on top. My favorite time to eat them are when they are fresh out of the oven.

 

Every Christmas since before I could remember, my family would get together and we would all help to make snickerdoodles for our other family members, friends, and neighbors. Before covid, my family was rarely in the same room since my two older brothers go to college and my sister and I had extracurricular activities. No matter how busy our schedules were, we would all find time during winter break to make snickerdoodles together. So not only do the cookies taste amazing, but they bring back good memories as well.

 

Ingredients: Dough

 

●      1 Cup of Shortening

 

●      1 ½ Cups of Sugar

 

●      2 eggs

 

●      1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

 

●      2 ¾ cups of flour

 

●      2 teaspoons of cream of tartar

 

●      1 teaspoon of baking soda

 

●      ½ teaspoon of salt

 

Ingredients: Cinnamon Sugar Mixture

 

●      2 teaspoons of sugar

 

●      2 teaspoons of cinnamon

 

Tools:

 

●      A large mixing bowl

 

●      A stand mixer with flat beater attachment or spoon/baking spatula

 

●      Measuring cup

 

●      Teaspoon

 

●      Baking tray

 

●      Aluminum foil or parchment paper

 

Instructions for Dough:

 

1.     Add 1 cup of shortening to the bowl and mix until it is a creamy consistency

 

2.     Add 1 ½ cups of sugar to the shortening and mix until fully combined

 

3.     Once the sugar is fully combined, add one egg at a time and mix in between to make sure all parts of the egg are fully incorporated

4.     Add 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract and mix until it has a light and fluffy consistency

5.     Add all dry ingredients (2 ¾ cups of flour, 2 teaspoons of cream of tartar, 1 teaspoon of baking soda, ½ teaspoon of salt) and mix until fully incorporated. *Start mixer on low to ensure the dry ingredients don’t go outside of the bowl. Also watch out for clumps of flour

6.     Let the dough chill in the fridge for about an hour to make sure the dough adheres to itself and doesn’t crumble when you go to roll it into balls

7.     Prepare baking trays with parchment paper or aluminum foil to make clean up easier and to make sure the cookies don’t stick to the tray

 

8.     Mix 2 tablespoons of sugar with 2 tablespoons of cinnamon in a separate dish to roll the balls in

 

9.     Take the dough out of the fridge and start rolling it into balls about an inch wide

 

10.  Roll the dough ball in the cinnamon sugar mixture until fully covered and place 10-12 evenly spaced dough balls on each tray

 

11.  When you put the dough on the tray, lightly press on the top so it doesn’t puff up too much in the oven

 

12.  Preheat the oven to 400 degrees and bake the cookies for 8 minutes

 

*depending on your oven, you made need to cook them for an extra minute or two

 

13.  The cookies should come out a light brown color with a light brown bottom and they should have little cracks in the top. Check the bottom of the cookies to see how baked they are.

 

14.  Place the cookies on a cooling tray because the cookies continue to bake even after they come out of the oven.

 

15.  Once cooled, put them in a Tupperware container to keep the cookies soft

 

*Tip: if the cookies aren’t as soft as you would like them to be, you can heat them up in the microwave to make them warm and soft again.

 

 

"What is Strength? by Sarah M.

 

            When one is in a state of weakness, does that automatically mean they lack strength? The answer is no. Society seems to forget the amount of strength individuals put in to get out of a state of weakness. The amount of strength it takes for certain people to keep doing the bare minimum like getting up in the morning exceeds the strength of some bodybuilder. Those who never give up no matter how difficult their situation is are strong because they continue to fight their weaknesses. Sure, there is the simple definition of strength which is being able to physically handle heavy weight. But what about the pressure society tends to put on others who don’t fit into the ‘standards’? What about the consistent pressure and pain one can have in their own head? The strength it takes to handle the weight of that pressure and pain exceeds the strength it takes to perform physically demanding tasks.

            In the U.S. about one in seven children and teenagers suffer from at least one mental health disorder. That’s about 7.7 million children and teens who push to remain well even when everything around them can be affected by their mental health. Strength is the amount of energy and power they put in to handle those effects. Half of those who struggle with mental disorders do not even receive treatment, so just imagine the amount of strength it takes them to simply perform everyday tasks.

            Many different things in one’s life require strength. Those who receive racist or homophobic remarks have strength. Those who work day and night just to provide for their family have strength. Those who live in an abusive household have strength. Those who struggle to love themselves have strength. Those who have been taken advantage of have strength. Those who are afraid to trust others have strength. In my eyes no one is weak.

            I have a 6-year-old cousin who lives in Syria, and every day I admire the amount of strength she has since her whole life has revolved around living in a country at war. When I visited the country, I got to see the amount of pain and suffering families go through just to get through a normal day in their life, especially those in poverty. 10 years of fighting have left 6.6 million internally displaced and 5.6 refugees. To the Syrian government, these people are considered weak. However, it is the complete opposite. These innocent people who have been so negatively affected by the war are the ones with the greatest amount of strength. When a government takes advantage of its power, it is no longer strong just abusive. Syrian citizens, just like my cousin, have the strength to continue living their life no matter how difficult it might be. My grandpa who passed away from heart problems that couldn’t be fixed because of how disadvantaged the Syrian hospitals are continued to use every last bit of his strength to provide for his family. An hour before passing away he told my mom to tell me to continue fighting for what I want no matter how difficult it might be. At that moment I knew I had to continue gaining strength and pushing through life’s obstacles. Strength is used to complete and fight through many different things. That is why every single person possesses strength no matter how weak they may seem or even feel.

 

 

 

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/strength

 

https://labblog.uofmhealth.org/rounds/half-of-us-children-mental-health-disorders-are-not-treated#:~:text=8%3A16%20AM-,Half%20of%20U.S.%20Children%20with%20Mental%20Health%20Disorders%20Are%20Not,rates%20vary%20considerably%20by%20state.

 

https://www.cfr.org/global-conflict-tracker/conflict/civil-war-syria

 

"Target, Ice cream, and Bubbling Apple Cider" by Michelle W

 

Initially, when my friends and I decided to go for a little Target run, we were just planning on getting some ice cream and getting out of there. It was going to be a quick in and out type of sitch.

 

However, my friends decided to get a little preoccupied with my wardrobe choice and play dressup before we left. I remember hurriedly trying to finish a homework assignment as I saw them rummaging through my closet, clothes flying left and right, piling up on the floor. Before we knew it, we were all putting together the most ugly outfits possible in the history of human history. If someone wasn’t looking utterly drop dead ugly, we had to up the ante and concoct some other awful outfit. Then some genius decided it would be funny if we didn’t change out of the outfits and went straight to Target looking like fools.

 

The night air was crisp and we all piled into one car, gassing ourselves up about how funny the whole ordeal would be when we got there and walked around. But, as soon as we got into the shopping center’s parking lot, embarrassment hit like a train in the face. In fact, we were so humiliated we opted for something instead of Target- a sidequest, one might say: The Dollar Store.

 

So we head into the dollar store and heads are turning. I mean, why wouldn’t they be? One of us was wearing a tuxedo with flowy pants that looked like a skirt (and some beautiful crocs), and another was wearing a skirt over pants with dress shoes. After walking down the aisles like we were runway models and purchasing some sunglasses we were out of there with a new self of self-establishment and confidence. It was time to hit Target.

Imagine the stares received at the dollar store, times ten all fit with the adrenaline rush of knowing that you are an absolute anomaly to others around you in public. Knowing that people are staring at you​ in confusion. The ice cream was obtained and we bought two bottles of sparkling cider to commemorate the events.

 

Have you ever asked the question, “What is the purpose of life?” Well, after that day’s ordeals I can confidently say there is none. I don’t mean that in a negative way. People can interpret this question in plenty of different ways, and plenty have, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter. In the grand scheme of things, we are just one of the billions of human beings that inevitably at one point, will cease to exist.

Whenever I start worrying about something a little too much, I take a step back and reevaluate. Is this going to matter years down the line? Absolutely not. So why am I getting so worked up about it? Am I ever going to see those people from Target ever again? Nope. And just like that, I relax. And this concept applies to so many specifics in life. Outwards appearance and how you are perceived by others, for example.

I think it's honestly a tragedy how many people will limit themselves to comfort instead of opening themselves up to new situations or scenarios for fear of making a fool of themselves or not being perfect at something. Just like Hillary Duff said from A Cinderella Story, “Don’t let the fear of striking you out keep you from

playing the game.” Because, in years time, who’s going to remember that you humiliated yourself doing something stupid? Everyone is so preoccupied with themselves that they probably won’t even care for a second glance in your direction. Stop caring so much about what others think and just go for it.

I’m still scared of the social constructs created around me, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to look like some sociopath and lack so much self-awareness that I’m no longer understandable by other people. I’m just saying that the art of not caring anymore is truly beautiful. For so long I’ve been looking at life from a bird's eye view, where I’m walking on a small pathway covered in glass shards and I have to be extremely careful from stepping on anything when I could have been seeing things from a different perspective all along.

 

So the next time I want to do something but I’m afraid of someone’s opinion or how I’m going to look, I’ll just remember Target, ice cream, and bubbling apple cider.

"Change Isn’t Always Bad" by Muskaan S

 

 

Sometimes moving to a different place can be hard for many people. Change is something that takes time to get used to, and several people don’t like change. In my experience I never thought I would move. Every time someone moved from, they would share their experience with it. When I heard what they said about change and different settings, I would say, that is never going to be me. Until my parents told me that we were moving. It was hard to hear, because of the fact that I grew up in the place where I lived since I was in kindergarten. I had to leave the city where I was born, and the place I knew like the back of my hand. It was even more difficult when I had to leave my friends that I’ve known since elementary school behind. It was the end of my sophomore year when I got told this, and like a lot of people it gave me anxiety to go to a new place. I started to think of the worst that could happen instead of all the good things that might come out of it. The moving process got harder for me because I was angry and sad that we were leaving as well as adding to my anxiety. I was entering a new school in my junior year, and I didn’t know anyone, or the environment. I feel like it could have been way easier if I wasn’t so negative about it. I remember it didn’t even feel real until I went to my school and started filling out transfer papers, and packing everything. All I knew was I had a couple days left before I left everything I was used to behind. My friends came over for the last time, and we hung out and cried. They tried to tell me to enjoy it and be happy because I couldn’t do anything to change it but I didn’t listen. I didn’t give it a chance to be a new chapter in my life. Instead I thought it was the worst thing that was happening at the time. The regret I have is that I didn’t want to accept it and go with the flow of the situation. When we fully moved here I probably cried for like a week. Finally, I decided it was time to move on and accept it. I still had anxiety and was scared of what was in store. After all that negative thinking, I went to school and was completely shocked. Everyone was so nice, and didn’t make me feel nervous or scared. I got help from a lot of students as well. I made new friends and it didn’t feel like a big change. When I went home, it was unbelievable that a new change could be good. The thought of what I was going through, and the fact it could have been 10 times better if I just had a positive mindset. This one experience made me realize, this is something I did often in my everyday life. Looking at the bad over the good was becoming a natural thing. People often do this whether they acknowledge it or not. The fact that I let a negative mindset ruin an experience I could have enjoyed was not sitting right with me. So I started to change my perspective and opinion on things. Everytime I had to do something new or out of my comfort zone, I changed the bad thoughts to positive ones. This made me get less anxiety, and also made me look forward to whatever I was doing. I think everyone should try doing this if their anything like I was. Being scared and anxious of a new situation is normal and just human nature but the important thing is that I learned from the experience and to enjoy the good times and learn from the bad ones. At the end of the day, I am glad that I got used to my home and the area just like I was in my childhood home. I’m in a new home now and still have the memories from my childhood home. I also accomplished a lot of things here that I could not over there. I learned not to overthink and judge something that I haven’t given a chance. Even though it took me an experience like this to see what mindset I was in, I can say I am happy that it happened.

Learning about yourself and growth can be done by anyone in any way. You just have to be cautious about your mind, and how you decide to go about the situation.

"2:56am" by Dianna V

 

 

There is nothing in particular that has affected me greatly in my life, only the usual ups and downs throughout. As I cried for not wanting to go to school during kindergarten, unable to leave my mother due to the immense attachment, as I transitioned to middle school and had to socialize, and finally as I progressed to high school having to leave my dear friends. There was nothing wrong mentally per se, but I had noticed myself slowly slipping away as the years had passed. It is the typical stress from the amount of rigorous classes I was taking, nothing big - though, that is what I had always said.

 

Each day felt more tiring than before. Each day had felt increasingly more repetitive than the previous. I had enveloped myself so in school, so I chose to ignore myself, oddly enough. I hadn’t thought much of it regardless, and I didn’t think those around me would notice anything at all due to my decision of neglecting. Of course, the year 2020 had not alleviated this situation in the slightest. For most, it was presumably the most strenuous and burdensome. The absence of friends, the increase in schoolwork, the state of isolation all contributed to further numbness. As stated, I had not thought it was noticeable due to my choice of disregarding, and I had believed it remained in that circumstance.

 

The day I turned seventeen, I had celebrated it with a small party, no more than ten people occupying my house. It was enjoyable, but the constant thought of wanting to leave, wanting to be in my bed and sleep the night away had surrounded my mind. The feeling of exhaustion had consumed me. Though, I had greatly relished the receiving of gifts (I, for one, absolutely adore the materialistic things). My mom had given me a gift, along with a card including a written message, the last words stating ​“We miss your smile, mija.”​Again, I had not thought any of it was noticeable.

 

The days, weeks, and months had progressed, with each one remaining monotonous to the fullest. Needless to say that was not to persist. My family had been notified of my aunt’s infection of coronavirus. As a result of a few family members having already been infected with the virus and recovered, we also thought she would recover. That was not the case whatsoever, unfortunately. Two months had progressed, with my grandma’s additional infection of the virus as well, and there was no sign of improvement in any of them. My aunt being the first to go was disheartening. The thought of not being able to see her again, never feeling welcome in the warm house of hers as I visited Mexico, never being able to taste her exceedingly spicy chilaquiles again. My dad in a feeling of melancholy, my mom crying, my siblings and I further isolating ourselves - I had much preferred the monotonous and repetitive days over this. The passing of my grandma had been not long after my aunt. This one definitely had hurt the most as I would never hear her heartfelt singing as she sang her favorite song, the one she would really only remember, now being one I adore the most. My dad had now left to Mexico for the second time, as the further division of my family had proceeded. We never took deaths that well.

 

The wearisome days had returned, and my taking in distractions had increased. Whether it was being deeply engaged in social media, my continuous undivided attention to shows, or my

focus in reading. I had exceptionally longed for the days where I had smiled often, just as my mother said. I had missed the feeling of excitement when talking about something I adored, whether it was the moon, the stars, or the night sky. I had missed the happy girl filled with exhilaration as I saw the ones I loved. The girl who agreed to go anywhere for the enjoyment and company of others. Now, as I stay in my covers, with the overbearing thought of my siblings explaining “Dianna we only see you twice a day”. Or when they ask, “how is that whenever I go into your room you’re always sleeping?” To answer the question, it is the continuous restlessness I feel, despite the three hour naps with the additional nine hours of sleep per night. Or when they ask “why do you forget everything” as if it is expected of me to remember.

 

As I write this at 2:56am, I ask, why does everything have to be so draining?

"Shadows" by Aries T

All I can do is walk behind you. Watching, waiting for you to move so I can be the perfect carbon copy. I’m you, yet I feel nothing at all. I copy every move, every facet of your motion, and at night, I hide myself with everything else. I trail behind you, sweeping by each pebble and grassblade. From within a hair’s length, I follow and never contact you. Sometimes you look at me, perhaps without realization that I am always looking back at you. You forget I’m here, but I am always right behind you.

 

I’ve met all your friends yet they pay me no heed, neither do theirs when I speak to them. Or perhaps that was just thinking with strained attempts to move muscles I don’t have. I see you laugh and feel joy and cry and become red with anger while I lay fat to the foor, wondering about my existence and if I’ll ever feel that. You’re unique, diferent details and features mark your presence while I feel a part of you with nothing else to me.

 

If you have not guessed already, I want to be you. I want everything you have. From your bones to your family, I want it. With every fber of my being, I want to be you. I look at how you laugh with your friends and family, and how you’re acknowledged and loved by them. I’m envious I’m stuck in my shadowy loneliness. I want to feel as you, regular emotions fll your head, both positive and negative; maybe, if I take your brain I can have that. Afer all, since I want it so badly, why don’t I just take it for myself? No longer will I follow. I will break this thread between us that keeps us joined and become you. I could take your skin, lay it on top of me, and become you. Everything that you are can be me. I want it. I need it.

 

It’s a shame it’s not possible. I can’t take these things from you. I can only follow you, watch you, and copy you. No matter how much I want to be you, I will never have the courage to. Of course, the fact that I’m only a mere shadow that was for some reason given the ability to think doesn’t exactly give me an advantage. Or maybe all shadows

want what their humans have. Maybe all shadows want to take their fesh counterpart for themselves.

"Dreaming of July" by Joelle L.

 

[My writing is meant to be a metaphor for the abstract idea of the rare highs and familiar lows of depression.]

What was once a bothersome sun in April, shines anew in July. The once foregoing, mournful light that glared through my ghost-transparent curtains had begun to shine warmly upon my blankets like that good morning embrace that Mother used to gift to me with each daybreak. My feet had begun to reach the carpet with ease, just as they were lured to those liberating pedals at the base of my drive. Non-complacent roads gave birth to non-complacent thoughts, as the snaking ride slithered through illuminated early-morning trees and shrubs. The thoughts once contained within my skull had been manifested and blossomed into pure-white clouds for all to admire. An unparalleled pair of sun rays and milky cumulus enveloped my ladybug-red car, perforating my dreams until my eyelids precipitated and ranoff down the plane of my face. The sea of white promised to mute the desperate red hue of my vehicle to a soft, rosy pink; thus, a flush of a kindred tint grows upon my newly-watered and flowering cheeks.

 

Such pitiful timing, for I had not cherished the beauty and liberty while it was given, as I anxiously awaited cold winters that brought sobbing clouds. What a joy to live in the moment! If only I took to heart the laughs and smiles while they lasted.

I now drive a car of a white hue, as though it absorbed the cumulus around us and left the atmosphere trapped in an eternal mist. The car, leeched and drained of color, leads us out of the green-packed mountain; the sun follows me down and down. The sun never falls erroneously; the dim night is destined to come. The road turns dingy and feeble, and

the passengers grip the door handles and scream as we descend. They fear not the fall itself, but the dejection of the ride and the grief of losing this fleeting moment.