Dear Queen,

I have written to you today for the purpose of applying for knighthood. I have grown tired of being merely Shayn Michelle Clare Roeder and no longer wish to remain in this state of insignificance.

To my name, I accredit the following accomplishments: 

 - Beautiful cursive handwriting
 - A very loud, not-so-beautiful singing voice

In the last year alone, I have also:

 - ridden my bike to the North Pole
 - become a rock star
 - taken no for an answer
 - parted the Red Sea
 - travelled back in time
 - and come out of a black hole alive

I have also attempted to learn Swedish and failed, yet failed with grace.

In conclusion, I believe myself to be the greatest candidate for knighthood and look forward to seeing you on your birthday at the beautiful hnonors ceremony.
Until then, adieu.

(Soon to be Dame)
Shayn Roeder

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”