Submitted via a video link

The Rabies Vaccine. One essential for an animal living in captivity: shelter, water, food, and rabies prevention. Its wrath takes no effort to disguise itself; simply take it, or risk imminent death. If you take this leap, however, and don’t know shelter, expect to foam at the mouth. You can only protect your body from so much. To be sheltered and unsheltered simultaneously is a disturbing lifestyle. You may ask, but no more than a whimper. You may beg, but don’t expect to receive anything further without this humiliation ritual. You may be heard, but only if you claw and growl. You retreat, tired of wounding and being wounded yourself. You’ve howled and howled but had no pack to respond. Your vocal folds are torn, as is your spirit. The turmoil is not worth the reward. Why beg for a 5-course meal and suffer when you can dig through garbage unnoticed? You’ll learn to lick any knife you’re handed. It cuts. It all cuts. Sometimes externally inflicted, often not. Flesh deteriorates. All you are is meat. Meat, bone, and blood. You have developed complex reactions to take every step. And they have developed complex reactions to push you back two steps. Why do we listen to meat? Is it all we know? It will tell you to protect yourself. You only know how to protect yourself by pushing everything else away. When you have no shield, all you can do is stray from danger. Everything is danger. Every movement could lead to death. Every stare, opened door, drooped arm, inhalation, forgotten use of sanitizer, it is all a death trap. It tells you. Constantly. You’ve failed. You have no weapon, no shield, and no army behind you. You can only behave so normally when you’ve taught yourself to fend, not beg. These moments are captured, replayed. In the dark moments, when your eyes are closed, and somehow, even when they’re open. Every second of every day becomes dedicated to self-protection. You cannot swallow. You do not know what is in your mouth. Where did it come from? So many possibilities, all lead to further restriction. Any proposal is poison, already running through your bloodstream, for you made the mistake of touching your face. Every blade aims for your eyes, any vulnerability they can find. You’re forced to watch. Eyelids don’t offer much protection, only open the door to a blank canvas of inner monologue. Your one sac of flesh is ruined. You’ve ruined it, and there is nothing you can do but accept that. You are alone, it will be painful, and it is because you failed to protect yourself. Alienated, not even scraps of food or love are safe. Run or die. You find yourself angrier than usual. Moody, angsty, you name it. The public starts to notice your rot. It begins to smell and diffuse across every room you enter. Signs are posted outside all your favorite parks, restaurants, and everywhere else, with your face front and center. They figure that they cannot save you, but they can at least preserve their own experiences. And so you sit wherever you can find a seat. Some dirty alley, some dead woods, anywhere you can find, really. You’re not really sure when you became this person. It was all to help, yet none of it has. “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite.” It's too late for reflection; you feel yourself choking at the weight of it all. The saliva foams at your mouth; it's now or never. Is it too late for your rabies shot? It isn't. You thrash and live off scraps. The medicine sedates, but it helps. From rags, you build a bed. From spare pallets, you build a home. It's not much, but you're safe here. Others of your kind have begun to come knocking. Their flyers haunt them, too, but you've found more rags and fashioned more beds. Through them, you find purpose. Time passes; mania subsides. Every day, your throat clears evermore. It may not have been easy for you, but your fight taught you everything you know. You trod out amongst your pallets and back to the unfriendly alleys; you come face to face with all of your posters. They don't hurt to see anymore, but your refugees' do. You tear them down, but leave yours in place. You fill their place with advertisements for your Hooverville. Your rabies vaccine may have come late, but with this lesson, you will ensure everyone else receives their essential dose.

I’ve lived in an environment where I had to fight for representation. Health issues have plagued me for as long as I can remember; nobody ever had a clear answer for me. After years of having to convince others that something was wrong, I was heard. I received the testing I needed, had 504 accommodations put in place, and finally convinced those around me that I was worth listening to. From these years of struggling on my own, it has become my life goal to advocate for others in a similar position-- those who might have already given up on being heard. As someone who's always been in love with the idea of pursuing science, I’ve structured my life thus far around opening as many doors for myself as possible. While I was narrowing down my options between forensic science and veterinary medicine, I chose to educate myself in both. Chronologically, I was set on veterinary medicine first. I believed that the path for me was one in wildlife. Pursuing this passion, I dedicated myself to volunteering at the Bronx Zoo, educating visitors about conservation. I ran activity tables to teach all ages through engaging methods. For instance, we had wheel-of-fortune-type games to disprove animal myths, or colored goggles to mimic different light spectrums for different animals to explain unsuspecting camouflage. This position lasted a summer, but my drive has lasted a lifetime; I continued as an intern, where my responsibilities consisted of working with peers to develop the lessons I had just begun to know so well. As an intern, I focused on serving not only visitors, but also Magellanic penguins. Native to the Falkland Islands and migrants to Peru, these birds are primary victims of the overfishing crisis, and their offspring are growing up weaker and requiring longer periods to mature. Eventually, these factors will be detrimental to these populations if left unchecked. This is where I come in. I designed an activity to protect these creatures by educating visitors about the cause, the crisis, and how to help at both a personal and a broader scale. As I explored being hands-on, I contemplated lab work. My focus shifted to advocacy through justice. I enrolled in a dual-enrollment intro-to-forensics course. This was where I was meant to be. I thrived in this environment, and I loved every second of it. With the aid of my teacher and his numerous connections, I’ve met those who were wrongfully incarcerated for 16-20 years, those who’ve dedicated their lives to public service through careful analysis and labwork, those who’ve dedicated their lives to teaching their craft to the next generation, and many, many more qualified individuals. While all of these experiences were moving, I found my encounter with Jeffery Deskovic to be utterly life-changing. Deskovic was 17 when he was wrongfully incarcerated under coerced confession and other unethical methods. Critical evidence in his case was literally just ignored. Evidence was disposed of. Officials lied. He paid the price. Despite the system's failure, Deskovic spends the rest of his free time as an attorney fighting for those in his previous position. He has freed 15+ people. Between my own public service and hearing others' stories, my dream has solidified into a purpose. It was a field I’d always considered as advocating for the un-advocated for in a sense of putting an assailant behind bars, but I’d never thought that my work could truly save someone's life. With this self-assurance and drive, I would find a home wherever I choose to pursue my life dream; I need the support to get there.

I’ve lived in an environment where I had to fight for representation. Health issues have plagued me for as long as I can remember; nobody ever had a clear answer for me. After years of having to convince others that something was wrong, I was heard. I received the testing I needed, had 504 accommodations put in place, and finally convinced those around me that I was worth listening to. From these years of struggling on my own, it has become my life goal to advocate for others in a similar position-- those who might have already given up on being heard. As someone who's always been in love with the idea of pursuing science, I’ve structured my life thus far around opening as many doors for myself as possible. While I was narrowing down my options between forensic science and veterinary medicine, I chose to educate myself in both. Chronologically, I was set on veterinary medicine first. I believed that the path for me was one in wildlife. Pursuing this passion, I dedicated myself to volunteering at the Bronx Zoo, educating visitors about conservation. I ran activity tables to teach all ages through engaging methods. For instance, we had wheel-of-fortune-type games to disprove animal myths, or colored goggles to mimic different light spectrums for different animals to explain unsuspecting camouflage. This position lasted a summer, but my drive has lasted a lifetime; I continued as an intern, where my responsibilities consisted of working with peers to develop the lessons I had just begun to know so well. As an intern, I focused on serving not only visitors, but also Magellanic penguins. Native to the Falkland Islands and migrants to Peru, these birds are primary victims of the overfishing crisis, and their offspring are growing up weaker and requiring longer periods to mature. Eventually, these factors will be detrimental to these populations if left unchecked. This is where I come in. I designed an activity to protect these creatures by educating visitors about the cause, the crisis, and how to help at both a personal and a broader scale. As I explored being hands-on, I contemplated lab work. My focus shifted to advocacy through justice. I enrolled in a dual-enrollment intro-to-forensics course. This was where I was meant to be. I thrived in this environment, and I loved every second of it. With the aid of my teacher and his numerous connections, I’ve met those who were wrongfully incarcerated for 16-20 years, those who’ve dedicated their lives to public service through careful analysis and labwork, those who’ve dedicated their lives to teaching their craft to the next generation, and many, many more qualified individuals. While all of these experiences were moving, I found my encounter with Jeffery Deskovic to be utterly life-changing. Deskovic was 17 when he was wrongfully incarcerated under coerced confession and other unethical methods. Critical evidence in his case was literally just ignored. Evidence was disposed of. Officials lied. He paid the price. Despite the system's failure, Deskovic spends the rest of his free time as an attorney fighting for those in his previous position. He has freed 15+ people. Between my own public service and hearing others' stories, my dream has solidified into a purpose. It was a field I’d always considered as advocating for the un-advocated for in a sense of putting an assailant behind bars, but I’d never thought that my work could truly save someone's life. With this self-assurance and drive, I would find a home wherever I choose to pursue my life dream; I need the support to get there.

The idea that comes to mind when you think of the child of an alcoholic is fairly standard: an unmaintained home, violence, irresponsibility, etc. My experience doesn’t quite fit the standard. I am the child of functional alcoholics. My mother is better off, but the impact of living under her roof clings to me like her e-cig vapors to our walls. My father, noncustodial, sees me less often but haunts me nonetheless. Of course, there are the nights of screaming matches shaking the walls, and the mornings of clearing bottles from the kitchen, but there is also their struggle. Neither of them see any issue with it, nor its impact on their children. My mother will always be sober by the time I have to be taken to school, my dad claims to only drink after I’m taken home, although some evenings of swerving on the highway suggest otherwise. A cousin visited us from college, excited to learn how to bartend from my mom. “Why can’t you be more like her? She’ll have fun with me,” my mother says. I took a sip, envious of the validation my cousin received. I remember a few years ago my dad took one of my friends and me on vacation; “wow.. your dad goes to the liquor store a lot.” Over those 7 days, I think he went 4 times. These direct confrontations set off a lasting fear in me: Is this my future? As my fear spiraled, I lashed out at those around me; I was starting high school; people were bound to drink. Unfortunately, this included my best friend. Her choices would spread to me; it was inescapable. I couldn’t shake the, “I’m the child of two alcoholics, I will be an addict.” And so I cut her off. 12 years, gone like that. Anyone experimenting? Gone. I’d be safe in my solitude. I was diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Sometimes, I resent my parents for this. However, as I matured, my perspective shifted. It stood out how far I strayed from the image I had of children of addiction. I had a difficult time even recognizing their addiction as one. Yes, they need help, no, they do not realize it. But they’ve also stayed my parents. My mother has been to everything I’ve ever invited her to and more; I never invited my father, but he’s been trying to make up for it. I will always love them both, but I will also have to live the rest of my life seeking approval from every parent-figure I come across, primarily teachers. I was medicated, put into therapy, and learned to cope with all 3 of our illnesses. I reached out to every friend I’d cut off and apologized to those who listened-- explained my story. It took time, as everything does, but I was forgiven. I grew, we all had. I had to learn to choke words out, to fend for myself, to trust. But I learned. This aspect, I could never regret or blame them for. A life without struggle isn’t a life at all, and so, my future is not theirs; it is my own. Maybe it’s more troubling that I don’t fit the standard, because my parents will seemingly never realize their issue. However, it served as a chance for me to flourish into an empathetic person, one who recognizes someone's background before any other feature. I firmly believe that this feature will serve me beautifully as someone pursuing justice and forensic science. I have the drive to go far, I just need the support to get there.

The Rabies Vaccine. One essential for an animal living in captivity: shelter, water, food, and rabies prevention. Its wrath takes no effort to disguise itself; simply take it, or risk imminent death. If you take this leap, however, and don’t know shelter, expect to foam at the mouth. You can only protect your body from so much. To be sheltered and unsheltered simultaneously is a disturbing lifestyle. You may ask, but no more than a whimper. You may beg, but don’t expect to receive anything further without this humiliation ritual. You may be heard, but only if you claw and growl. You retreat, tired of wounding and being wounded yourself. You’ve howled and howled but had no pack to respond. Your vocal folds are torn, as is your spirit. The turmoil is not worth the reward. Why beg for a 5-course meal and suffer when you can dig through garbage unnoticed? You’ll learn to lick any knife you’re handed. It cuts. It all cuts. Sometimes externally inflicted, often not. Flesh deteriorates. All you are is meat. Meat, bone, and blood. You have developed complex reactions to take every step. And they have developed complex reactions to push you back two steps. Why do we listen to meat? Is it all we know? It will tell you to protect yourself. You only know how to protect yourself by pushing everything else away. When you have no shield, all you can do is stray from danger. Everything is danger. Every movement could lead to death. Every stare, opened door, drooped arm, inhalation, forgotten use of sanitizer, it is all a death trap. It tells you. Constantly. You’ve failed. You have no weapon, no shield, and no army behind you. You can only behave so normally when you’ve taught yourself to fend, not beg. These moments are captured, replayed. In the dark moments, when your eyes are closed, and somehow, even when they’re open. Every second of every day becomes dedicated to self-protection. You cannot swallow. You do not know what is in your mouth. Where did it come from? So many possibilities, all lead to further restriction. Any proposal is poison, already running through your bloodstream, for you made the mistake of touching your face. Every blade aims for your eyes, any vulnerability they can find. You’re forced to watch. Eyelids don’t offer much protection, only open the door to a blank canvas of inner monologue. Your one sac of flesh is ruined. You’ve ruined it, and there is nothing you can do but accept that. You are alone, it will be painful, and it is because you failed to protect yourself. Alienated, not even scraps of food or love are safe. Run or die. You find yourself angrier than usual. Moody, angsty, you name it. The public starts to notice your rot. It begins to smell and diffuse across every room you enter. Signs are posted outside all your favorite parks, restaurants, and everywhere else, with your face front and center. They figure that they cannot save you, but they can at least preserve their own experiences. And so you sit wherever you can find a seat. Some dirty alley, some dead woods, anywhere you can find, really. You’re not really sure when you became this person. It was all to help, yet none of it has. “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite.” It's too late for reflection; you feel yourself choking at the weight of it all. The saliva foams at your mouth; it's now or never. Is it too late for your rabies shot?

The movie that has had the greatest impact on my life has got to be the Studio Ghibli film, Ponyo. The movie follows two young children, Sosuke and Ponyo, who meet on the shore. Ponyo is sort of a magical sea creature who longs for the world above, while Sosuke is a fairly isolated child of a single mother. Upon meeting Sosuke, Ponyo gains the ability to develop into a little human girl. Her father, essentially the king of the sea, is dismayed by her escape and sets natural disasters on the town until they return his child. As the story progresses, it develops the friendship between the two children in a truly pure and innocent way. They’re best friends, full of whimsical and childlike wonder; it's truly a joy to watch and rewatch over and over. The story ends with the parents of the two children making a pact where Ponyo will get to stay human as long as she gets to stay with her found family, and the world will return to its natural homeostasis. The story is very moving, suggesting themes to youth such as protecting the natural world, finding your own destiny apart from your parents, the joy of friendship, etc. Though, for me, its significance carries much more weight. The first time I watched this movie was with my older brother Nicholas. We never buy movies in my family, but he’d told me about this movie he’d seen that he thought was worth the $14 to keep it forever. I was intrigued, as this was irregular. At the time, I was prone to self-isolating. I hated the idea of spending time with someone, especially watching movies. Stuck with someone for 2+ hours with no escape? Terrifying concept to my neurodivergent self. I fled to my room and started playing the movie. I fell in love. Not only was it just a purely beautiful film, but I was touched by the recommendation. Knowing my hard time with movies, Nicholas still encouraged me that this one was really worth it. I’d never felt so seen. My eyes were glued to the screen till the end of the credits. I ran to his room and disregarded my fear of contact, pulling him into a hug. This was the first of many times I’d ever been so moved by my relationship with my brother. This developed into a sort of bonding that was so foreign to me. One beautiful film blossomed into watching stupid shows together, sharing more recommendations, etc. Eventually, those movie recommendations flourished into music recommendations and online creators and video games and clothing styles and brands and activities; Anything we loved, we shared with each other. Though we had a blood relationship, I still consider Nicholas a sort of found family. We were born in the same home, but only found each other after Ponyo found Sosuke.

As an animal keeper an someone with a genuine passion for animal care in general, I have observed throughout my life that without access to a veterinarian, animals can quickly fall victim to tragedy. As a witness, I have become passionate about speaking for creatures who cannot, and wish to dedicate my life to animal care and rescue. Because of my age, I cannot pursue this formally, so I choose to volunteer and help any creature when possible instead. For me, this has consisted of many impromptu animal rescues. Whether for ducks too ill to hold their heads above the waterline, escaped pets running amongst traffic, or roadside animals left to die, I have gotten into that kayak or car with nothing but a towel, my values, and animal control on the phone. In my home, with the closest exotic veterinarian being inaccessible, I have had to nurse one of my frogs, Parmesan, back to health after a prolapse. Knowing he would die otherwise, my stepmother, who is a nurse, and I spent the week doing research and using sugar baths, vaseline, and many Q-tips. Against all odds, we were successful. Regardless of how this proved miraculous for these animals, limited hands-on experience without education can only take me so far. After these experiences, I long to directly help animals, not just assist them, so I have chosen to pursue veterinary sciences in post-secondary schooling. I want to learn more about shelter medicine and veterinary care in a professional setting alongside specializing in exotic animals and to establish an animal rescue. Some of the intellectual frontiers that I want to explore are companion animal epidemiology, preventative and wellness care, animal behavior, and shelter surgery. With this knowledge, I could take in any animals abandoned or injured by human cruelty or convenience. Additionally, with the exotic animal specialization I hope to master in, I would be able to bring a desperately needed degree of care and knowledge of exotic animal keeping— a vitally important factor in fostering my love for the diversity of animals in my life— to people who may have never received education regarding how to properly care for a high maintenance animal. Specialized veterinarians are very difficult to come by in my experience, which limits the joy I can bring into my home. With that newfound knowledge, I could help foster responsible homes for pets that are not only a haven for animals, but for families as well.