Introduction:

People who know me well, can pick up that I LOVE to throw a cringe-worthy phrase into my conversations. Whether it be, “Oh sugar plums” or “When pigs fly” I find enjoyment in using cliché or overused phrases. During my AP Language and Composition class last year, we were given a merriment assignment as a diversion from practicing the AP exam's long essay questions. The project was to put overused phrases to bed and take them out of our writing. The requirements were to write an Eulogy about our chosen overused phrase, so I decided to pick “loose cannon.” The standard for the Eulogy was to speak about our beloved overused phrase, while also making the language absurd by using as many overused and cliched phrases as possible. The purpose of cramming these ridiculous phrases in one place was to purge them from our systems so these phrases would not end up in our responses to the AP exam’s long essay questions. Most students in the class found this assignment half-witted, however, I enjoyed every moment because I LOVE these corny phrases. Enough explaining, let’s remember our dear friend, the Loose Cannon.

In Memory: The Beloved, Yet Overused, Loose Cannon

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Say good-bye to Loose Cannon,

We bid you, “Adieu”.

I stand before all of you today, even those who are the flies on the wall, to crack open the can of worms and remember the life of our friend, Loose Cannon. If you have ever been associated with the “Loose Cannon”, it is a day to feel a sense of relief as you will no longer be mocked by the name, Loose Cannon. However, don’t count your chickens before they have hatched because there are still other fish in the sea, so I cannot guarantee you will not be called a Bull in a China Shop, a Kid in the Candy Store, or a Hot Mess, however, I promise you will no longer be the Loose Cannon because the phrase is being put out to pasture. No need to throw anyone under the bus because it is what it is. Those who used “loose cannon” as their only insult or comeback may be struggling today as it is a tough pill to swallow but remember actions speak louder than words. However, they are going to have to think outside the box to find new insults because this is now the new normal. Although it may be heavy lifting, your support is needed more than ever towards those who relied on the phrase, “loose cannon” because there is no I in TEAM. But at the end of the day, everyone will get over this mind-blowing loss, by taking the lemons and turning them into lemonade. As they say, the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. The phrase will be missed dearly as it will force our emotions to be taken to the next level, and it will take a lot of hammering it out to clear the air but eventually, everyone will get on the same page and be back to square one. I don’t want to beat a dead horse so I feel it's best to end it here. If for some reason your head was in the clouds during this memorial speech, to put this in simple terms the Loose Cannon is going out with a BANG!

Conclusion:

While it is tragic that the Loose Cannon and his friends are gone from my writing, at least I will score high on all writing-related assignments from now on. I cannot promise a cringe phrase will not slip out every once in a while in my conversations, but I can say the overused phrases are deposed from all writing, so I am more than ready for all writing in the future!

Her hands were tools of love. The world is her stone and her hands carve into the rock with a delicate yet powerful force. To some, the impact is violent and painful, leaving behind cracks and chips in the facade of their mountain face. To most, her incisions are intricate caresses of adoration and appreciation. The curves are smooth and meticulously crafted, for wherever she grants her touch is a blessed place she cherishes with every fiber of her being. Like the warm embrace of a parent, the familiarity envelopes you without ever making her acquaintance. It is as if she were always there and it is easy to feel her warmth without apprehension. It feels as if life itself could not have existed before her, and yet you came to be in this moment without ever having seen her before. She is beautiful in the most ethereal yet chimeric way a creature can exist. Still, how could she exist? While her touch is calming and congenial, her flesh never reaches you. How, then, could we know she is sublunary? Could it be in the way her words reach your ears, or the way her art appears on the walls of the world? Should we choose to believe in her regardless, or must she prove herself secular? The selfish may wish to expose her in egotistic greed for knowledge, or the power of knowing, but the truly wise will accept her embrace with open arms and live knowing that her notion is enough.