Choosing to be an artist could easily be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, but art thrives from mistakes. Art cherishes the choices made, both wrong and right, and turns everything into something much larger than any simple choice - it becomes art. My journey into artistry first manifested in a need for understanding. In a financially unstable and low-income household, my mental and physical health often suffered. I reached towards anything that helped to ground me. My first love will always be psychology. Specifically, the recognition that humans are intricate, flawed and can be both broken and healed. I wanted so badly to feel healed. Similar to a cure for disease, creating art began my journey of healing. I applied to my locals arts charter school and found myself accepted into the acting program. I felt so unsteady in that acceptance, although many congratulated in my success. When I began classes for theater and film I felt I did not belong - that I was a mistake. One day we did an acting exercise where our teacher explained to us the scenario, encouraged us to clear our minds, and fall into the scene as if it was reality. It was about a sister coming home to their younger brother, who was struggling to breathe. I can only explain the sensation as easy as stepping into the room, the way the world came to me in that classroom. Suddenly I was the sister in a small but lived-in home, and there I saw my younger brother who I loved so dearly struggling to stay alive. I remember the tears falling from my eyes, the flashes of memories of our life together filling my mind, and the emotions that brimmed in my heart. My teacher approached me afterwards and complimented my vulnerability, and in that moment I realize that my mistake was never choosing to be an artist - it was not letting my vulnerability showcase itself into my art. My pain was not my fatal flaw, it was my strength - a tool to use in the pursuit of what I loved most: creating art. Since then I have found the most immense amount of love and passion from being a multi-media artist and self-proclaimed renaissance women. I attend California Institute of the Arts with a major in Acting for Film & Theater, and a minor in Digital Arts. On the weekends I work tirelessly in the music studio with my team, and I’ve released two songs so far (with many more in the works to come). I organize events as president of our Asian Student Alliance, building a community of fellow Asian artists to connect and collaborate with. My classes are a plethora of opportunities, screenplay writing, poetry, music production, etc.. Becoming an artist will never be a mistake because it is my home. I am grateful to have found an educational community to support and collaborate through all my artistic pursuits - both wide and concentrated. I chose to become an artist to showcase the perspectives and challenges of immigrants, abandoned children, and the unstable girl whose lack of balance once convinced her that she was just another mistake. Through art I want to praise vulnerability and empathy in life, encourage others to love so brightly and bring to light the reality of those who have yet to be represented and recognized in art. I am an artist, and my journey so far is long from over. There are many achievements I still have yet to make, and I am elated to pursue them without any regret whatsoever.

My left brain and right brain are constantly at war, they challenge and debate my life’s choices, reaching for answers that aren’t there. In many ways, I should not be pursuing a career and degree in the arts. As a first-generation immigrant from a low-income household, a career in the arts could be considered both selfish and shameful. As the eldest daughter, I am constantly reminded that my two sibling’s education will fall onto me to provide. As I work two jobs, often sixteen hour work days, I am reminded that I must provide the financial income not only for my own necessities, shelter, and education - but for my mother’s medical bills as well. Some nights my left brain begs to win the fight because logically a career in the arts is not an option for an individual in my situation. But my right brain has hope. My right brain is filled with passion and empathy, emphasizing that my experiences deserve to be heard and showcased into art - that my hard grueling work is not proof of my faults, but proof of my determination. My right brain believes in the power of art to create the change needed to provide opportunities for others in my own and my family’s situation. My right brain is filled to the brim with love, and refuses to give up. When the war stops, together they work to make the seemingly impossible, possible. My financial situation has made it difficult to pursue art but not impossible - during slow work days I write music and screenplays on blank receipt papers. In between jobs I rehearse scripts and finish assignments. Often I don’t have a day off in the week - because my day offs are filled with days of filming on sets, live performances in galleries, and meetings with other creative artists that inspire me. I am constantly moving, evolving, and committed to making my dreams a reality. My left brain organizes my time-management, communication, and leads me through solutions to achieve success. My right brain motivates my soul, imagination, and fuels creativity in every project and piece I do. Yes it has been difficult, but it has been possible. I hold onto that possibility like the last string on hope - let it drag me out of the trenches of the lack of belief from both myself and those around me - and I stand up to prove it wrong. My art is only fueled more-so by the difficulties I have faced, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I have never felt like a traditional student, though I have longed to understand them. When my mother immigrated from the Philippines, she left her dreams behind. Her focus solely became making my life possible, and my dreams achievable. The weight of her expectations had the power to both lift and stifle me - and there were times when it was one and the other. When I graduated high school I had been accepted into my dream college - a high-ranking school my mother was immensely proud of. A week before classes started, I had to withdraw my enrollment. My dream school became my biggest nightmare, and my goals seemed to fall apart before me. My family did not qualify for the loans, nor did we have enough money to pay for the school. I had been so focused on achieving the dream of attending the school, I never considered that my family would never be able to afford such an education. I was devastated, and learned a hard truth; I would never be the traditional student, and I would have to fight for my education. At the time of my withdrawal, I had been already working both a day and night job, adamantly growing my savings. My family didn’t have the financial means to support anyone’s education, therefore if I truly wanted it I would have to support my own. I re-applied to a plethora of schools, choosing the one that gave me the most scholarships. Somehow, I feel that I was meant to end up at the California Institute of the Arts - and I’m proud to say it is a school worth fighting for. During my first years at CalArts, I attended class full-time and worked at restaurants part-time every night. I became drained and exhausted, leading to my professors being concerned with my performance and abilities compared to my peers. Again, after doing everything I could to attend school, I was still struggling to enjoy the education I fought for. Last spring I made the difficult decision to take a second gap year, but that difficult decision led to the immediate relief and joy that this past year has been. Since finishing my second year of school, I have been working three jobs adamantly. Committed to building the savings I need to not only attend school - but to be able to focus on my education. The over eighteen-hour work days can be draining, but I am trading them in for the joy and pride I will feel to return to school this fall. The relief of being able to afford my education through my support and means - my work, my scholarships, and my commitment. My grandma kisses me on the forehead before going back home to the Philippines, and reminds me to “keep your promise”. She says this every time we part, reminding me of the promise I gave her. I will be the first of our family to graduate from a United States College - I am the first of our family to have an education here in the United States. When I was six years old I promised that she would see me graduate college, and she’s never let me forget it. Nor would I ever forget - their expectations of me are my motivation and hidden strength. I am a non-traditional student for them and myself, and I cannot wait for my grandma to see me graduate in two years.

"Ang aking pamilya" - my family. My mother once told me a story of her pregnancy; an immigrant from the Philippines alone in her car in the dead middle of winter. She told me she had felt so alone sitting in that car, snow falling all around, the life of a single mother looming before her - and then I kicked. From within her, I kicked, and she realized she was no longer alone. I hold that story with me every step of the way; When she left me with my grandma in the Philippines and worked three jobs until she had enough money to support me, when I met the man she would marry and raise me as his own, when she brought my two younger siblings into the world, when she held me after my biological father rejected me again seventeen years later, and when she saw my career in the arts as a possibility, supporting me no matter the challenges ahead. My brother, Avraam, is twelve and changes his interests every month. Last year it was a biologist, last month a chef, and this week an actor. My sister, Aria-Luna, is ten and already taking classes in coding to practice game design. Although I am inspired to be their role model - I am more inspired by them as they are, and honored to be their sister. My most painful writings reflect the incomplete father figures, the mental illnesses that stem from them, and the broken family that began my existence. My favorite original song speaks about how my grandma held me when I would wake up crying, how she could make me champorado in the morning, making another day worth living. And the films I act in somehow always have a love-filled and difficult relationship between a daughter and mother. I promise it’s not the only projects I audition for - and yet it’s the ones I perform in seamlessly as if the power of our relationship creates an aura of artistic potential that anyone can see. When I graduate I hope to continue my pursuits to be innovative through writing, film, and art. One goal would be to make a feature film centered on mental illness and POC familial trauma - to showcase how intertwined they are. This summer we are filming a short I wrote, “bAUhdE dizMoRFiA”, (-purposely spelled incorrectly to represent how body dysmorphia causes the individual to see things not as they truly are-) focuses on the effects of body dysmorphia through a Filipino cultural perspective. My innovation comes from a desire to create change, and to promote the empathetic values that lead to understanding one another. Countless BIPOC perspectives and stories are still being silenced - and I will strive to create art that supports and fills those empty spaces. My art truly isn’t any different because of my skills or gifts. My art stands out because it comes from the love and history of many others - whether that be my family who inspire me, the ones who’ve hurt me, the friends that support me, and the fellow artists who spend hours on set, in rehearsals, in studios, working together to make a piece come to fruition. As an artist, my gift is to be able to work with others, to create the love and connections that lead not only to better art - but a better world. Those connections are the beating heart of art - I am simply honored to be a part of it, creating in the pursuit of change.

The dream version of my future self is wholeheartedly, genuinely, and empathetically, in pursuit of and finding success in creating the type of art that praises and recognizes the change in perspectives needed to promote and create change in the world - while still being grounded and true to themselves, no matter how high those dreams lay within the clouds.

For the majority of my life, I hated myself for my differences. I feared being myself and thought that if I managed to change myself I would fit in. Unfortunately, my attempts to be like everyone else only led to more feelings of isolation. I would modify my personality, my looks, how I spoke, and my interests - and still, I would feel like an outsider. My negative perception of myself festered endlessly as I longed to be someone...normal; someone who was just like everyone else. Unlearning those habits is a journey I still find myself on today. Every day I am learning to accept myself for who I am - and love myself for what makes me different. In fact, when the stigma is taken away you realize that what makes you different makes you stand out. Those differences were never flaws to be ashamed of, but strengths: Strengths to be proud of, and use in the pursuit of dreams and success. Being an artist only solidified this awakening in me, supporting my differences and praising what makes me unique. As an artist, my differences are exactly what fuels the type of art I want to make. Through my art I can speak on issues regarding mental health, immigrant low-income families, and sexual identity - all the topics that I would avoid ever expressing when I was ashamed of them. Now I am proud of these differences because they deserve to be heard, and by expressing them with pride I can finally find others who understand and love me for who I am. Despite any supposed differences I may have. Conformity feels comfortable. It feels safer to be a part of the crowd rather than fighting against it - and yet conformity does not create the type of meaningful change I want to create. My next three pieces are all written works being turned into film this summer, this first being a queer love story, the second a comedic commentary on substance abuse, and the third a personal experience regarding body dysmorphia while growing up in a Filipino family. All three of these films are wildly different and yet stem from the exact qualities within myself that I was afraid to express growing up. Truthfully, I'm still very afraid to create art that highlights my challenges and differences - but the urge to be heard is stronger than that fear, and the pride in my work is the burning fuel that disregards any remaining shame I have about who I am and what I want to represent. My dream is to one day give back to my community financially and artistically by creating spaces for those to express who they are and giving them the financial opportunity to pursue their dreams. One day I will be the one behind these scholarships, looking for young mavericks who need assistance and encouragement to believe in themselves and their differences. On a more intimate scale, I hope to be the greatest role model I can be for my two younger siblings. We have a nine and ten-year gap between us, therefore I've always felt an immense amount of pressure to be the best older sister. I love them for their unique qualities and differences and see bright futures for both of them. I would never want to see them falter or feel shame for who they are, and I am proud to take on the responsibility to show them that although those fears are there - the power of embracing your unique qualities and differences is much, much stronger.

By the age of ten I had read the entirety of “The Lord of the Rings”, “Harry Potter”, and “Percy Jackson”. My parents constantly found me face deep within books, whether it was at the dinner table, three in the morning, or on the toilet - it was near impossible to remove me from those tales of far-off fantasy lands, where troubled children found family, love, and happy endings. It gave me hope that I could also find my own happy ending one day. To me, story telling was never just about escapism, it was about vulnerability, empathy, and finding meaning in life. Stories have the power to bring new perspectives to the table and to create understanding and representation where there is none. My art thrives in storytelling, and my talents grew in artistic mediums to express those stories. I have found an immense amount of love and passion from being a multi-medium artist and self-proclaimed renaissance women. I attend California Institute of the Arts with a major in Acting for Film & Theater, and a minor in Digital Arts. On the weekends I work tirelessly in the music studio, and have released two songs so far. I design posters for our Asian Student Alliance, a community of fellow immigrant and Asian artists. My classes are a plethora of opportunities; screenplay writing to bring stories from ideas to words to film, poetry to find my artistic voice, music production to express art with sound, and acting to showcase and use my vulnerability. I am grateful to have found an educational community to support and collaborate through all my artistic pursuits - both wide and concentrated. Through art I want to praise vulnerability and empathy in life, and bring to light the reality of those who have yet to be represented. I have three artistic pursuits currently in the works; a new song in production, a Filipina-centered short film I wrote and will direct, and a queer love story I wrote and am producing. If this is what I will accomplish in the next few months, I can only imagine what I will achieve in five years. To start, I see myself having a repertoire of films I’ve created, songs I’ve released, and projects I’ve performed in. I want to continue working on creating stories that showcase the realities of immigrants, Asian-American families, and mental illness. These are the stories that come from my heart that I believe deserve further representation in our artistic media. In five years I would love to know my art encourages my values of empathy and vulnerability, with the goals to praise love and compassion in all humans. In five years I will no longer be a student of art, but an active practitioner. I am filled with excitement to think of how my talent can grow not only for my own work, but to support and collaborate with others work as well. I hope to have the financial stability to support my younger siblings’ dreams, and to be a role model that pursuing those dreams are possible. In five years my journey will be long from over, but I can say confidently that happy endings ARE possible - and by committing myself to my talents and passions, the journey is just as rewarding as any happy ending.

Choosing to be an artist could easily be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. My journey into artistry first manifested in a need for understanding. Growing up in a low-income household with immigrant parents who carried their own challenges, my mental and physical health was incredibly unstable. I reached towards anything that helped to ground me, leading to my first love being psychology. It taught me that humans can be both broken and healed, and I wanted so badly to feel healed. Creating art began my journey of healing. I started writing short stories when I was ten, usually about far-off fantasy lands where happy endings were achievable. At sixteen, my love for singing and piano grew into a passion for composition and song-writing. The stories I wrote were an escape and the songs I composed were a release. I applied to an arts high school for the music and acting program - and was accepted into the latter. When I began classes for acting I felt the familiar unstable sensation, that grew into the feeling of not belonging - being a mistake. One day we did an acting exercise where our teacher explained to us the scenario, encouraged us to clear our minds, and enter the scene as if it was reality. It was about an elder sister coming home to their brother, who was struggling to breathe. It was as easy as stepping into a room, suddenly I WAS the elder sister, and there I saw my younger brother struggling to stay alive. I remember the tears falling from my eyes, the flashes of memories of our life together filling my mind, and the emotions that brimmed in my heart. My teacher approached me afterwards and complimented my vulnerability, and in that moment I realize that my mistake was never choosing to be an artist - it was not letting my vulnerability showcase itself into my art. My pain was not my fatal flaw, it was my strength - a tool to use in the pursuit of what I loved most: creating art. Since then, I have found an immense amount of love and passion from being a multi-medium artist and self-proclaimed renaissance women. I attend California Institute of the Arts with a major in Acting for Film & Theater, and a minor in Digital Arts. On the weekends I work tirelessly in the music studio, and have released two songs so far. I design posters for our Asian Student Alliance, a community of fellow immigrant and Asian artists. My classes are a plethora of opportunities; screenplay writing to bring those stories I wrote a decade ago from ideas to words to film, poetry to find my artistic voice, music production to express art with sound, and acting to showcase and use my vulnerability. Becoming an artist will never be a mistake because it is my home. I am grateful to have found an educational community to support and collaborate through all my artistic pursuits - both wide and concentrated. I chose to become an artist to showcase the perspectives and challenges of immigrants, abandoned children, and the unstable girl whose lack of balance once convinced her that she was just another mistake. Through art I want to praise vulnerability and empathy in life, and to bring to light the reality of those who have yet to be represented. I am an artist, and my journey so far is long from over. There are many achievements I still have yet to make, and I am elated to pursue them without any regret whatsoever.

My identity as a Filipino is one of the key factors that drive my life and career. As a first-generation immigrant, I recognize the value and luck I have to be able to pursue my dreams and career here in the United States. It is not only my own life and career I am pushing for, it’s for the sacrifices my mother, my grandmother, and my family before had made to give me this opportunity. Therefore, my Filipino background keeps me grounded in my goals and values. I am constantly finding ways to achieve and pursue success in my career. Whether it’s working three jobs to afford next semester’s tuition, or living in my car during a dire situation, I’ve kept the pride and energy to continue to push forward. Despite any challenges I face financially, mentally, or physically, I find myself looking to the guidance of my family who suffered similar and more difficult challenges to make sure I could have the opportunity to strive for my dreams and education. I chose to become an artist because I want to showcase the perspectives and challenges of our community, and bring to light the reality of those who have yet to be represented and recognized in art. Although the growth in Asian-American film and art has finally begun to be recognized, there is still a long way to go. Our stories are complex and inspirational, and I am proud to create art that showcases that. This semester a film I wrote and am directing, “BaHdie deeMorfia” (-purposely written incorrectly to metaphorically represent how those with body dysmorphia struggle with seeing things as they actually are-) is in pre-production, and highlights the struggle of a Filipina daughter with her self-image and body dysmorphia. Although body dysmorphia is universal to all, I will be showcasing the mental disability through the eyes of a Filipino reality and perspective. The sense of pride I feel creating art that relates to many, but specifically my community, is what drives me to continue to achieve success in my career. Both my mother and grandma could have become artists, and are immensely talented in many mediums. When I began acting, and told my mother I wanted to go into film and theater, I was shocked to see how supportive she was. I originally wanted to go into the medical field, the main drive being for financial reasons. But she confided in me that she, also, loved the arts and theater while in school, and wished she could’ve pursued it more. In school she played Kim in their production of “Miss Saigon”, and she saw Lea Salonga in the production when she immigrated to New York. I didn’t expect her to be so proud and supportive of my artistic goals, and was originally so ashamed of the difficult path I had chosen. She supported me, and still does, wholeheartedly. I pursue the arts not only because it is my dream, but because it was also once hers. And while she did not have the opportunities and resources in the Philippines to achieve that passion, she did everything to make sure that I could. She is my greatest influence, my role model, and my success in my life and career is her success as well. My filipino background is not simply a background to me. It is a driving force, a prideful reminder, and the passionate strength of my family that pushed to make sure I would have a life and career. I am, and will always be, immensely grateful and proud to be a Filipino.