Growing up in an immigrant household, the capability to satisfy the economic threshold of stability was most coveted. For my brother and I, this meant battling the constant pressure of academic achievements that would forward us to a college education, degree, and eventually a classic 9 to 5 job that would ameliorate the cycle of an immigrant lifestyle. After years of what I believed to be top performance in academics, it all went down in my junior year when I received news that my dad had passed away from a sudden heart attack. For someone who was barely around, his passing became one of the most draining events in my life. I took a two-month absence at the start of 11th grade, "the most important year," to grieve my dad's departure. These two months consisted of weekly therapy sessions, multiplying schoolwork, the fall of Pre-Calc Honors grade, and the eventual decline of my entire GPA. It was becoming obvious that I had transformed into the "failure" my mom wanted me to avoid. The former self that once inhabited me was replaced with a lifeless soul, one that would paint my entire world grey. She would threaten to make tears fall whenever someone attempted to greet or glance my way, making my airway clog at the thought of any social interaction. She took everything that was supposed to make me "college-ready." It took me the next 6 months to put everything "back to normal." My father's background consisted of unhealthy smoking patterns and drinking habits to alleviate unattended mental health issues, which all made sense when it was added up. It was during this time of reflection that I felt determined to pursue a career to offer solutions to those like my father. It was here that I was empowered to face the consequences instead of running from them, to face my struggles as well. Learning to be okay with the experience of loss also taught me to understand there was nothing shameful about my situation. This epiphany reinvigorated me to revive my grades back to a passing score at the cost of the Honors curriculum. Though it was difficult, I was able to take the first steps to fix friendships and rekindle my passion for learning. My first experience with grief was when I learned that academic achievements are not all there is to life and do not define who I am or will become. Familiarizing myself with my flaws gifted me with the ability to see beyond the horizons of academic walls, redefining my worth and capability to succeed, preparing me for the real world. It allowed me to regain value in my life and opened up a pathway on my ambitions to provide for people like myself and my late dad. To this day, my dreams and goals to educate those about the stigma and consequences of mental health, alleviating the pressure for those in times of struggles and doubts stand strong. I’ve learned to see loss and grief as not the end, but a stepping stone to a new leaf, as well as an opportunity to appreciate the loved ones around me currently. These experiences have given me something to work on and eventually helped me better myself by exposing me to maturity and a sense of appreciation. His passing has allowed me to rediscover the value and necessity of loss, teaching me that there is nothing to be upset about, but to rather seek the silver lining, and smile that it happened. Instead of letting this loss prevent me from moving forward, it reaffirmed my belief in the purity of hope and resilience.

Fat Cats Go Down Alleys Eating Bologna. This very mnemonic device was the start of my journey to seek justice for music theory. It brought awareness to the depth of classical music, that it was more than just a harmonic piece played at some fancy orchestra and symphonies. There is more to a piano than just black and white ivory keys, strings, pedals, and performance. It is mathematical, requiring accurate calculations and analysis to understand why a B# is also C, but why it also isn't, like how multiplication is just addition, but not quite. The legendary composers, Bach, Chopin, Mozart, are the fathers of music from different time periods, similar to how historical events are spread through eras. It requires an appreciation for linguistics and an understanding of the musical language of Italian. At the academic level, music is underappreciated. It's an undermined subject that isn't deemed necessary in the general education curriculum. Despite its deep roots and connections to the other subjects, it is merely an elective. I decided to change that for myself when I learned that my school would not be offering music theory. I have pursued a relationship with the piano since the age of 9, thoroughly enjoying the physical interactions with the instrument, standing on grand stages, eventually executing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, III. It wouldn't be until my Level 3 CM Test that I began to appreciate its theoretical components and the technical aspects. Music theory taught me what an arpeggio was, how this piece was structured entirely, why the tempo was what it was. CM training gifted me with the privilege to read and write music, exploring beyond just "playing." As I prepare myself for a college education, I have been hoping to pursue nursing in psychology and conjoining it with music. There is so much more than "just playing and listening to music." It is a conundrum offered by the original fathers of music who have left a legacy to the modern world of music today, one that I want to teach to the world, just like CM has for me.

"The secret to life is to fall seven times and to get up eight times," Paul Coelho once said. One of the most significant "failures" in my life took place in my education. After years of what I believed to be top performance in academics, it all went down in my junior year when I received news that my dad had passed away from a sudden heart attack. I took a two-month absence at the start of 11th grade, "the most important year," to grieve my dad's departure. These two months consisted of weekly therapy sessions, multiplying schoolwork, the fall of Pre-Calc Honors grade, and the eventual decline of my entire GPA. It was becoming obvious that I had transformed into the "failure" my mom wanted me to avoid. The former self that once inhabited me was replaced with a lifeless soul, one that would paint my entire world grey. She would threaten to make tears fall whenever someone attempted to greet or glance my way, making my airway clog at the thought of any social interaction. She took everything that was supposed to make me "college-ready." It took me the next 6 months to put everything "back to normal." It was during this time of reflection that I thought of this quote and was empowered to face the consequences instead of running from them, to face my struggles. Learning to be okay with the experience of loss also taught me to understand there was nothing shameful about my situation. This epiphany reinvigorated me to revive my grades back to a passing score at the cost of the Honors curriculum. Though it was difficult, I was able to take the first steps to fix friendships and rekindle my passion for learning. My first experience with grief was when I learned that academic achievements are not all there is to life and do not define who I am or will become. Familiarizing myself with my flaws gifted me with the ability to see beyond the horizons of academic walls, redefining my worth and capability to succeed, preparing me for the real world. To this day, Coelho's words lie close to my heart, alleviating the pressure in times of struggles and doubts. I’ve learned to see failures and setbacks as fun, as well as a healthy way to track my progress as a student and a person. These experiences have given me something to work on and eventually helped me better myself by exposing me to humility. His words have allowed me to rediscover the value and necessity of struggles, teaching me that there is nothing to be ashamed of shortcomings, but to rather seek the silver lining. Instead of letting these challenges prevent me from moving forward, every hardship reaffirms my belief in the purity of hard work and resilience.