Celebrating my Vietnamese heritage alongside my first-generation immigrant parents has enriched my life with a vibrant tapestry of traditions, from the aroma of traditional foods during holidays to the laughter shared over classic games with our tight-knit neighbors. One such cherished tradition is "Bau cua tôm cá," a beloved Lunar New Year game that unites every Vietnamese family. Yet, beneath its seemingly innocent exterior, this game harbors the potential to ensnare individuals in an insidious vortex of addiction, silently eroding their social connections and mental well-being. In a community where discussions about mental health and gambling remain shrouded in silence, I chose to confront this issue head-on. Encouraged by my parents, I became a part of an alternative youth program that revolved around harnessing the power of arts and media for positive development. It was through this program that I discovered BOOF – Betting On Our Future – a youth-led problem gambling awareness campaign that resonated with the very core of my being. It offered me a platform to fulfill my mission of alleviating the detrimental impact of gambling within our community, a mission that extended from healing family rifts to addressing the profound anxiety and depression that often accompanies addiction. Over the past four years, I've immersed myself wholeheartedly in the mission of BOOF, actively contributing to impactful media projects that range from thought-provoking public service announcements to compelling graphic campaigns. As I delved deeper into the marketing aspect of this endeavor, I discovered the immense power of reaching a broader audience to prevent problem gambling at its roots. I've co-written engaging short films, crafted compelling scripts for radio announcements, and collaborated on numerous innovative projects. Our annual showcase, now a beacon of hope, provides not just entertainment but also crucial education for those touched by the shadows of addiction. Attendees express their heartfelt gratitude, often sharing their personal struggles and expressing the wish that they had encountered our showcase before their lives were forever changed by addiction. These encounters, rich with emotion and raw gratitude, have propelled me beyond the boundaries of my initial mission. They've ignited an unquenchable commitment within me, a commitment to make a positive difference in every community I touch. This desire to amplify my impact has driven me to set my sights on the field of marketing, where I aim to forge connections with like-minded peers, and individuals who share my burning passion for addressing pressing issues. Leveraging my experience in community showcases, I aspire to replicate the same transformative platform on campus, disseminating vital information at varying levels, and engaging students, teachers, staff, and communities far beyond the boundaries of my own. I'm genuinely excited about the prospect of joining forces with my future classmates, engaging in meaningful dialogue, and actively contributing to raising awareness about the perils of problem gambling within our society. Together, we can illuminate the path towards healthier choices, fostering brighter and more informed futures for generations to come. Through marketing, I see an avenue not just for personal growth but for catalyzing positive change, and I'm eager to embark on this transformative journey, hand in hand with those who share my unwavering dedication to making a lasting impact.

Despite the heartwarming message Shakira lyrically conveys through "Try Everything," sometimes we have to recognize our limits, for the consequences of pushing our boundaries will disrupt our well-being, or in this case, erupt into inflammation and hives. I vividly recall the time in 6th grade when I consumed a traditional bowl of fried rice. The meal was decent; however, my face began to transform to an abnormal size and develop a vivid flush of red. Because my mom curated this meal for me, I inquired about the ingredients and how she made them. The fried rice ingredients included canola oil, white rice, Chinese sausages, eggs, green onion, dried shrimp, and a few other vegetables. I decided to experiment, taste-testing all the ingredients one by one and day by day to see which would result in an allergic reaction. Everything appeared fine until I reached the dried shrimp portion. After thirty minutes of consuming some dried shrimp, my face began to itch and develop a rash. For some odd reason, I was not convinced that it was dried shrimp enabling my allergic reaction; moreover, in a couple of days, when the swelling went down, I decided to eat some more. The same conclusion resulted; however, the consequences were much more troubling, since I could barely feel my face. The itching sensation I felt was utterly indescribable. To date, it is the worst itch I have ever experienced, surpassing that of my many experiences with mosquitos. Paralleling my academic life, I was obsessed with figuring out a way to add heaps of work on top of my already-filled schedule. Since I always felt like I wasn't doing enough compared to my classmates, I juggled internships, part-time jobs, college-level courses, dance, and volunteer/advocacy clubs all in one go. My naïve self, struggling to maintain my grades and social life, plummeted to a new low. In the back of my head, I knew my workload was causing more harm than good; nevertheless, I convinced myself I could handle it. Just like the same way I persuaded myself that dried shrimp did not impact me. Conventional wisdom holds that people should consistently try to experience everything as they may retain new things. However, the reality is more complicated. Not everyone is naturally gifted in certain areas, as we can see how people, who have better math skills, tend to stick to a finance career, meanwhile those who are more outgoing may lean towards a career in marketing. I realized the agenda of pursuing a medical career my parents were pushing onto me was beyond my limits. I forced myself to try and enroll myself into numerous academic activities that would look good and hopefully admit me into a good school for pre-med. Reflecting now, I could have redirected my time spent into fitting a mold my parents made for me into exploring new hobbies and careers. When I finally understood my limits and boundaries, I was able to divulge myself into the world of marketing in my senior year of high school. The "Forbidden Foods" scholarship would assist me in raising awareness among fellow youth that not everything is within arms reach, and although there are things we have to work hard for, there are also things we cannot attain. I'd like to let them know that is okay. In the same way, it is okay I'm unable to eat dried shrimp.