The biggest compliment that I have ever received was my Student Council advisor telling me that I had a “servant’s heart”. Before this, I never considered the work I did as inherently selfless or honorable; I just considered it to be the right thing to do. From a very young age, my parents raised me to appreciate my fortune and to help those less fortunate than I. This could mean donating old toys that I no longer use or babysitting for my neighbors while they go to work so they don’t have to pay for summer care. I was also taught to give grace to others and try to imagine life in their shoes before judging too harshly. One thing I love about my community is how willing others are to help people, whether they know them personally or not. Pawleys Island is a close knit, small coastal town in between Murrells Inlet and Georgetown, South Carolina. Having lived here my whole life, I have witnessed Pawleys’ greatest moments in service and support. During an especially bad tropical storm or hurricane, the churches will offer shelter, food, and other help to those in need. Year-round, several nonprofits host donation drives to give kids necessary school supplies, clothes, and more. On the second Saturday of each month, people flock to the one-man Farmer’s Market at the five-way and purchase anything from collard greens to iced drinks. Another thing which I love about where I live is the opportunities it presents for me to help others. During my high school career, I participated in several community-centered organizations which actively attempted to better life for citizens. Throughout my four years of Student Council, I was able to participate in a host of Blood Drives, Canned Food collections, fun events for the community’s youth, and recognition projects of outstanding community members. My three years of National Honors Society allowed me to play an active role in keeping our community clean through routine beach sweeps, and gave me the opportunity to help the younger generations through donating school supplies and reading to elementary students. The Bunnelle Youth Board empowered me and my fellow members to award grants to local nonprofits addressing pressing issues in our community such as poverty and education inequity. The work I was able to do with Plantersville Elementary students through United Way Reading’s R.E.A.L. Mentor’s program let me spread the joy of education and service with those younger than myself. While I love my community and am proud to be from Pawleys Island, I recognize that changes will always be needed. Recently, a pressing concern of mine has been the lack of promotion of the arts, with cuts in our high school’s AP Arts Department and our lower-level schools’ electives. I believe we should all actively promote the arts, not only as a hobby, but as a pathway to college and a career. This could be done through hosting music festivals, putting on youth plays, and showcasing local art in establishments. Another thing which presents an issue to our community is the lack of alternative paths publicized during high school. For example, our local high school does not house any sort of trades department. Instead, students interested in cosmetology or welding have to travel at least thirty minutes to even learn about the subject. We need to start adding more classes to cater to the changing passions and wants of the newer generations. I love my community, and loving something doesn’t mean you believe it’s perfect, but that you believe it can become better.

When I was in the eighth grade, I told my mom that I would not eat unless she let me become vegan. I had been struggling with eating and body image ever since my childhood, but it had only intensified after I reached middle school. I would consciously avoid meals and overexercise, and those closest to me noticed a difference in my body and my well-being. My mom was worried about me, but I was still mainly worried about my weight, so we had to come to a compromise: she would let me become vegan if I promised to eat three meals a day and attend weekly therapy sessions. My first three sessions, I just sat there in silence cataloging the pictures on the walls, the books on the shelves, the outfits my therapist wore. During my fourth session, she gave me a series of behavioral tests to see if my eating issues stemmed from a larger issue. I came into the session to talk about starving myself, and I walked out with diagnosed Moderate Severity Anxiety Disorder. Immediately after she had scored my test and diagnosed me, I felt sick. At this point in my life, I still viewed mental illness as a weakness, something that I should have avoided but failed to. I protested several times, to the point where she suggested I get a second opinion to be sure. So I did. And a third. They all came to the same conclusion: I had anxiety. The word itself was enough to make me anxious, which is ironic if you think of it. After the initial shock of the diagnosis wore off, however, and I tried medication, I began thinking about what it all meant. For starters, I realized that I tended to push down my daily emotions until the end of the week, where I would promptly crash in hysterics. My diagnosis helped me look inward at myself and my bad habits; my habit of smiling constantly as to not disappoint people, but in affect robbing myself of emotional expression; my habit of making crescent-shaped nail imprints in the palms of my hands so hard that blood was drawn; my habit of using full bottles of soap and scratching my body red because I never felt clean. Knowing I had anxiety somehow made me feel better…validated. While I still worked on stopping these habits, I no longer felt crazy or weird, because I had the comfort of knowing the cause. My experience with mental health through my eating and anxiety disorders have made me more open-minded and understanding. I no longer shy away from conversations about mental health as embarrassing or too personal; instead, I enjoy sharing my experience with others if only to assure them that they are not alone. When a friend starts acting differently around me, I consider why this might be rather than jumping to conclusions. Not only am I more understanding of others’ shortcomings, I am more gracious with myself on my not-so-good days with eating or anxiety. When I am being overly-anxious, I can recognize this and talk myself down. When this doesn’t work, I don’t beat myself up for having anxiety, but acknowledge that it is a part of me that I just have to adjust to. While I have made several deep connections through discussions on mental health, I have also lost my fair share of friends. My best friend in tenth grade called me one afternoon telling me that she couldn’t “handle” my anxiety, that I over-thought too much, was too uptight, and was too anxious. It was like a punch to the gut. Instantly, it was like all the work which I had done to reach a point of peace was erased. I was left sitting on the ground, using the five senses technique to pace my breathing. I had to accept that some people wouldn’t be able to deal with my anxious tendencies, no matter how many bad habits I fixed or how much medication I took. There would always be somebody who considered me a burden. And that was a hard pill to swallow, but I eventually did, because I realized that it didn’t matter. What did matter was the continual progress I was making in becoming comfortable in myself and my improving mental health. Those closest to me saw these changes, picking up on how I addressed awkward situations in the moment, rather than stewing over it for weeks and then melting down. Or how I spoke more freely around friends, less afraid of saying one wrong thing that would make them instantly hate me. How I was being myself, despite my diagnosis. Or maybe because of it. Throughout this time of struggle and into the present-day, my support system was my mom and older sister, the former who approached the situation with grace and faith, the latter who approached the situation with reality and honesty. As you can imagine, the whole eating situation was incredibly heartbreaking to my mom; she couldn’t understand why her little girl didn’t find herself perfect, when all she had done was tell her she was. My mom wrote me daily affirmations, which I would find hidden under my lunch, or on my bedroom door, even taped to my desk. My sister took a different, less explicit tactic of supporting me. She didn’t let me eat a single meal alone, instead eating with me or just sitting and talking, successfully distracting me from the issue. And, when I got diagnosed with anxiety, neither of them said “I told you so” or treated me any differently. In fact, both my mom and sister opened up to me about their own struggles with anxiety, and encouraged me to talk through whatever I was feeling at the time. To this day, some of my fondest memories were of the three of us, just sitting in my bed, not having to say a thing at all.

In the fall of this year, I will begin my freshman year at Duke University, my forever dream school. I intend on majoring in English on the Pre-Law track, with either a Psychology or Political Science minor. While at Duke, I hope to take a wide variety of classes, from courses in ethics to those in child policy. Outside of classes, I am excited to participate in extracurriculars such as Student Government and Club Lacrosse. I will begin studying for the LSATs before entering my junior year, during which I will take Latin and Government classes in preparation for law school. During my time in law school, I will focus my efforts specifically on the ins and outs of Family Law. I hope to attend a law school in South Carolina, so I can best serve my home state and my own Georgetown community. Attending an in-state law school will allow me to focus on our local issues and form connections with those who can help me better serve citizens. My hope is that by taking these cases and giving a voice to those usually unheard that I will be able to make a positive difference in our community. After graduating from law school, I aim to pass the Bar Exam and become certified to practice Family Law. My vision is to practice law until reaching retirement age, when I will then volunteer as a substitute teacher or work with kids in another form. I have given back to my community by playing an active role in its happenings through my involvement in various community-centered organizations, namely Student Council, the Bunnelle Youth Board, National Honor Society, and United Way Reading. During my four years on Student Council, I gradually climbed the leadership ladder, becoming an executive in my junior year as Recording Secretary and eventually the Student Body President in my senior year. My executive positions during my last two years of Student Council gave me an especially valuable role when it came to community service. As Recording Secretary, I handled the correspondences between my organization, the school, and the wider community. I emailed with nonprofit leaders and worked to host events such as Blood Drives or Canned Food Drives. As Student Body President, I was able to further this involvement by personally visiting local organizations such as Teach My People and the Friends of Waccamaw Neck Library to collaborate on community activities. Furthermore, my membership on the Bunnelle Youth Board, beginning at the end of my sophomore year, allowed me to meet several influential members of the community in charge of needed change: the Superintendent, the Deputy of Police, and Town Council members. Much of my time on National Honor Society was spent volunteering at career fairs, manning concession stands and ticket booths at school events, and bringing in donations for the needy. Through the R.E.A.L. Mentors program at United Way, I was able to visit Plantersville Elementary and read to the kids monthly. It was through these initiatives I was able to give back to my community and build long-lasting connections and relationships. For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to help people. At first, it was me wanting to be a teacher, then a therapist, and finally, a family lawyer. My involvement with those of my community has inspired a feeling of servitude and leadership which I will carry with me into adulthood. I believe that, as a Family Lawyer, I can make a significance difference in the world by defending those otherwise lost in the white noise of daily life.

My name is Ally Douglas, and I am currently a senior in high school. I am eighteen years old and will be attending Duke University in the fall, where I will major in English on the Pre-Law track. I am a proud daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, student, friend, and girlfriend. I have lived in South Carolina all my life and have been in the Waccamaw school system since Kindergarten. I was this year’s Student Body President, Environmental Club Treasurer, Book Club Vice President, and Co-Captain of the Varsity Lacrosse team. I have a roof over my head and food on my plate. My name is Ally Douglas, and my father passed when I was eight after getting in a car accident. I can’t remember my childhood until eighth grade. I suffered from an eating disorder throughout middle and high school. I was diagnosed with Moderate-Severity Anxiety Disorder the summer before high school. I love to read, sing, write, play lacrosse, watch sports, and go on walks. My name is Ally Douglas, and the joys and pains of my life have shaped me into the person I am today, and have motivated me to become the person I want to be in the future. My name is Ally Douglas, and I dream of becoming a family lawyer in the future to help protect and elevate those around me. Even when I was younger, I knew I wanted to have a career in which I could help people. For a long time, I dreamt of becoming a veterinarian because of my love for animals. After I was diagnosed with anxiety, I thought about being a therapist, helping others the same way Dr. Stephanie helped me. Following my Teacher Cadet course, I thought maybe I wanted to be a teacher, if only because I loved kids and wanted to help them. I finally realized my dream career when I was a junior in high school, after meeting my assistant coach. Coach Bess was a lawyer, that much I knew, but I didn’t know what kind of law until about two months after meeting her. One day after practice, I asked her what her practice specialized in. She explained that she was a Family Lawyer, dealing with anything from estate planning to child abuse cases. She mentioned how she struggled with anxiety and depression, but that she used these supposed faults as fuel to help others. After this, I began interning at her firm, an experience that introduced me to the components of Family Law and affirmed my interest in the field. What drew me to Family Law specifically, rather than the other types of law, was the personability of it. To me, corporate law came off as too detached, too impersonal. Criminal law scared me with the possibility that I would have to defend a murderer. Family Law, however, is the perfect mixture of professionalism and compassion in one job. Family Law excites me because it gives me the opportunity to help others, especially those who are vulnerable or underrepresented. Another thing that drew me to the idea of being a Family Lawyer was the impact I could have. Throughout my various experiences with my community, I have realized the importance of representation. As a little girl, I didn’t have teachers who looked like me. Reading to elementary students and seeing a little girl with the same skin tone as me, I hope to encourage her to love reading and education. I hope to continue my streak of women empowerment by giving little girls who look like me hope for their futures.

Rising early in the morning, Beating the Sun at his own game. Lighting a candle on my windowsill, Shining down on the book’s page. Reading for ten minutes, which Turns into two hours of the day Gone. It may not fit the definition, But it is my perfect day. Early morning coffee with Mom, The sun being replaced with rain, Beautiful and harsh at the same time: “Good morning” she will say anyway, Because it is still a good morning With her and I and the rain. It may not fit the definition, But it is my perfect day. Running out of the house, Barely making it out of harm’s way, Hair soaked, clothes drenched, The sky now grey. Safe within the haven of my sister’s car, Allowing my head against the glass to lay, I sing along to the current song, Changing the words to whatever I say, No matter how much my sister Protests. It may not fit the definition, But it is my perfect day. Watching the rain drops on the window, Imagining them in a race, Placing bets on who will win, Who will earn first place. Simple, uneventful, boring, Lazy, slow, dark, gray. It may not fit the definition, But it is my perfect day. Arriving at our destination, Which for I impatiently wait, The faded sign of the bookstore Appears as if Heaven’s gates. Rushing in, equally cursing and Smiling at the continuous rain. Doors swinging open to reveal The many treasures that may Or may not attract others, but which Have a special hold over me. It may not fit the definition, But it is my perfect day. Wasting hours poring over the books, Joking that forever I could stay, Sitting down on a plush couch, As comfy as if it’s mon chez. Skimming the pages while Sipping on a hot chai latte, Enjoying the silence and Everything seems to be going my way. Alyssa comes over, Carrying books stacked on books On books on books. Hurray! It may not fit the definition, But it is my perfect day. Leaving the bookstore, Heavy with the latte Yet pockets light from The spent money. Deciding because we’re Broke anyway, to go Out to dinner, to further Waste away Our money, our time, On this perfect day. Ending the day in mom’s room, Silent as we lay, All of us physically separated, But emotionally the same. A day of mundane activities Spent with those I love. Deciding to choose how to spend The day how I may. It may not fit the definition, But it is my perfect day.

When I was in the eighth grade, I told my mom that I would not eat unless she let me become vegan. I had been struggling with eating and body image ever since my childhood, but it had only intensified after I reached middle school. I would consciously avoid meals and overexercise, and those closest to me noticed a difference in my body and my well-being. My mom was worried about me, but I was still mainly worried about my weight, so we had to come to a compromise: she would let me become vegan if I promised to eat three meals a day and attend weekly therapy sessions. My first three sessions, I just sat there in silence cataloging the pictures on the walls, the books on the shelves, the outfits my therapist wore. During my fourth session, she gave me a series of behavioral tests to see if my eating issues stemmed from a larger issue. I came into the session to talk about starving myself, and I walked out with diagnosed Moderate Severity Anxiety Disorder. Immediately after she had scored my test and diagnosed me, I felt sick. At this point in my life, I still viewed mental illness as a weakness, something that I should have avoided but failed to. I protested several times, to the point where she suggested I get a second opinion to be sure. So I did. And a third. They all came to the same conclusion: I had anxiety. The word itself was enough to make me anxious. After the initial shock of the diagnosis wore off, however, and I tried medication, I began thinking about what it all meant. For starters, I realized that I tended to push down my daily emotions until the end of the week, where I would promptly crash in hysterics. My diagnosis helped me look inward at myself and my bad habits; my habit of smiling constantly as to not disappoint people, but in affect robbing myself of emotional expression; my habit of making crescent-shaped nail imprints in the palms of my hands so hard that blood was drawn; my habit of using full bottles of soap and scratching my body red because I never felt clean. Knowing I had anxiety somehow made me feel better…validated. While I still worked on stopping these habits, I no longer felt crazy or weird, because I had the comfort of knowing the cause. My experience with mental health through my eating and anxiety disorders have made me more open-minded and understanding. I no longer shy away from conversations about mental health as embarrassing or too personal; instead, I enjoy sharing my experience with others if only to assure them that they are not alone. When a friend starts acting differently around me, I consider why this might be rather than jumping to conclusions. Not only am I more understanding of others’ shortcomings, I am more gracious with myself on my not-so-good days with eating or anxiety. When I am being overly-anxious, I can recognize this and talk myself down. When this doesn’t work, I don’t beat myself up for having anxiety, but acknowledge that it is a part of me that I just have to adjust to. While I have made several deep connections through discussions on mental health, I have also lost my fair share of friends. My best friend in tenth grade called me one afternoon telling me that she couldn’t “handle” my anxiety, that I over-thought too much, was too uptight, and was too anxious. It was like a punch to the gut. Instantly, it was like all the work which I had done to reach a point of peace was erased. I was left sitting on the ground, using the five senses technique to pace my breathing. I had to accept that some people wouldn’t be able to deal with my anxious tendencies, no matter how many bad habits I fixed or how much medication I took. There would always be somebody who considered me a burden. And that was a hard pill to swallow, but I eventually did, because I realized that it didn’t matter. What did matter was the continual progress I was making in becoming comfortable in myself and my improving mental health. Those closest to me saw these changes, picking up on how I addressed awkward situations in the moment, rather than stewing over it for weeks and then melting down. Or how I spoke more freely around friends, less afraid of saying one wrong thing that would make them instantly hate me. How I was being myself, despite my diagnosis. Or maybe because of it. Most of all, my experience with mental health has solidified my aspirations for my future. After careful consideration, I realized my true passion: family law. Last year, my lacrosse team welcomed a new assistant coach. Before meeting Coach Bess, I toyed with the idea of being a lawyer, but I wasn’t sure of which one or if I could truly make a defense- I especially didn’t want to have to defend a criminal. She introduced herself to us and explained that she specialized in Family Law, and that her current case was a teenage boy involved in a bitter custody battle between his parents. I was instantly interested, and soon started interning at her law firm. While watching her work, I realized what made her so good at her job. It wasn’t her intelligence or grit, but rather her passion. Passion which she told me stemmed from her own anxiety which she channeled into her work helping others. When I get older, I hope to use my own experiences with mental health to benefit others.

For as long as I can remember, I have always been a top negotiator; I wrote in my eight-year-old diary that my favorite hobby was “arguing”. Also, for as long as I can remember, my mom has asked me the same question whenever I’m being stubborn: “Would you rather be right or be happy?” Up until recently, I would respond that of course, I’m happy because I’m right- not exactly the answer she was hoping for. However, as I have matured and experienced life, I realized the power of happiness. As somebody diagnosed with Severe Anxiety Disorder, I know that moments of pure joy should never be taken for granted. Whenever I’m having a panic attack, I try to remember when I got into my dream college, or when my boyfriend told me he loved me. These instances may not cure my anxiety, but they help remind me what’s important when I’m worrying over insignificant things, such as whether or not I’m right in an argument. It’s always better to be happy. To me, happiness is not just a fun emotion, or a smile. If I am happy with myself in the future, I will consider that to be indicative of a successful career and life. For me, success looks like a future me who is self-confident in myself and my abilities, who is excited to go to work everyday, who is even more excited to come home to my family afterwards. For me, success looks like happiness. The one thing that makes me the happiest in life is helping others. Whether it be a simple compliment, an act of kindness or service, I have realized that I am never upset when I’m helping somebody. My passion for assisting others has manifested as my desire to become a Family Lawyer. This scholarship opportunity, if given to me, will help fund my education and support me in my achievement of happiness, and thus, success. I can vividly remember the day I decided I wanted to be a Family Lawyer. It was the summer before junior year, when I was researching potential college majors. I always knew I wanted to be an English major, but I was uncertain as to what career I wanted to pursue. After some research, I found out that a good portion of English majors went on to become lawyers. Like many others, I did not have too fond an opinion of lawyers, who I always thought to be cold-hearted and money-hungry. However, my mom always told me to be open-minded, so I decided to research the different types of lawyers. I remember writing down my top three choices on a sticky-note: Corporate, Personal Injury, and Family. I knew above all that I didn’t want to be a Criminal Lawyer and risk having to defend a murderer, but besides that I was lost as to what I wanted to be. I eventually landed on Family Law because of the impact it seemed to have, in comparison to the others. Family Law was more personal, more empathetic than Corporate or even Personal Injury. In Family Law, I saw the chance to help those in need, those who couldn’t or wouldn’t advocate for themselves: victims of spousal or child abuse, grieving children needing to divide their parents’ assets, mistreated orphans and juveniles. It was a way to change opinions of lawyers as insensitive or greedy; it was the perfect challenge for me, and nothing could make me happier. Now that I know what I want to do in life, I am determined to achieve my goals. Of course, I will need to study for and then pass the LSATs, be accepted into law school, graduate, and then pass the bar exam before I can even truly begin. But the idea of the future, in which I can successfully win custody for a deserving parent, motivates and excites me. This fall, I will begin my undergraduate education at Duke University, where I will major in English on the Pre-Law track. As my parents have established that I will not be accepting student loans, the majority of my tuition will be dependent upon scholarships. If granted this scholarship, it will allow me to fund my education and pursue my aspiration of being happy in life by loving what I do.

Growing up, I loved reading or listening to my mom read to me. Literacy has continued to provide me with a better education, an escape from my issues, and a passion which I have nurtured and maintained. Yet, even as a young girl, I noticed that not many of my favorite literary characters looked like me. Amelia Bedelia and I may have both taken instructions literally, but she was tall, white, and brunette. I was short, mixed, and had long, thick, black hair. Pinkalicious, Nancy Drew, Junie B. Jones- they were all the same. Sure, I laughed at their silly stories and loved hearing them, but I never related to any of them in the way I wanted to. Before I even knew what envy meant, I envied my blonde friends who looked like Cinderella or Aurora or Rapunzel or Tinkerbell. Who related to them physically rather than personality-wise. I wanted to look like them without having to drive forty minutes to Party City just for an itchy, poorly-made wig. I wanted to read my favorite picture book or watch my favorite movie and see somebody who looked like me. As a service opportunity for the National Honors Society at my high school, I went to our elementary school and read to a first-grader class. Once I was done reading, a little girl came up to me and asked for a hug. I was a little flustered at first and didn’t respond immediately, so she continued on to say “You look like me, and look,” she covered one of the “1”s on my ID which classified me as being in eleventh grade, “now we’re both in the first grade! We’re twins!” All I did was read a picture book about a rude animal, but to this little girl, I was somebody who looked like her, somebody who she could relate to. Without even meaning to, I became that representation for the girl, the representation I had so strongly wished for when I was younger. Nowadays, picture books are far more diverse. During my time in Teacher Cadet, I shadowed a sixth grade teacher and was able to go to their book fair. I saw books about Black girls with curly hair, mixed girls who felt lost and confused about their identity, girls just like me. Although it came a little late, I was finally able to see representation in picture books, which has made me accept myself and my differences from others. Reading has always been an integral part of my life, and will continue to be so long into the future. Whenever I feel self-conscious or anxious about college rapidly approaching, I read the copy of “Oh, the places you’ll go!” gifted by my mom for my eighteenth birthday. Whenever I feel out-of-place in my friend group or on my lacrosse team, I think back to those book fair books of the girls with curly hair and wide smiles. My passion for reading has led me to pursue a major in English during my undergraduate education. My hope is that, after graduating from college, I will pass the LSATs and enroll in Law school to become a Family Lawyer. I have decided to attend Duke University in the fall and am hoping scholarships such as this one will not only help my tuition, but also encourage my passion for English by reaffirming my success in the subject.

A year ago, my mom received a new laptop, finally replacing the decades-old computer she had always loved. A result of this change was that we had to manually transfer all her files, such as one titled my name. Curious, I clicked on the folder, which opened to a dozen assorted documents of writings- my writings. The writings ranged from forty pages of world-building to two pages of poetry, dated from as early as ten years ago and as recently as four years ago. I never realized exactly how much I had written or how often I had written. I emailed all the files to myself. Read them. Edited them and made them new. During a phase in my life in which the only writing I had time for was assigned, I felt alive for the first time in a long time. I have always had a passion and love of writing. Before I knew I wanted to go to law school, I would tell people I wanted to be an English major. “For what?” or “Why?” was the common response to this. I was told my intelligence was being wasted with a major such as English, that I couldn’t possibly make a living off of it. What people didn’t realize was that it was never about the money for me. It was about passion. It was about creating something bigger than myself or what I had experienced. Writing became my creative passion the day I realized it never seemed like a chore. Even when assigned essays in school on topics that rarely interested me, I found myself looking forward to being able to write. To be able to have actual class-time to express and articulate my ideas. I often feel that writing comes as natural to me as breathing, as if I was born with the ability and desire to write and never stop. Since realizing my passion for writing, I have been able to use it to make the world a better place, one person at a time. My love language has always been positive words of affirmation, but in writing. I love giving my friends handmade cards for their birthday with a personal, oddly-specific letter about them and our friendship. I write and give poems to my boyfriend as an expression of my love which otherwise cannot be voiced. I write thank-you notes to family members and mentors who have supported and encouraged me throughout my life. For me, writing is the most personal action to show respect, admiration, and love. If I had an extra twenty-four hours in a day, I would write a book. Specifically, I would finally put down all the plotlines and characters inside my head onto paper into a compilation of short stories. My phone’s storage is mainly taken up by my several notes for character ideas, potential plots, a funny quote or string of dialogue, etc. I wake up in the middle of the night and write down as much as I can remember from my dreams in case there’s some profound idea hidden within my consciousness. I have two binders worth of world-building and character analysis. I have all these ideas waiting to be modified, improved, and shared. But I don’t have the time, nor are there enough hours in a day. Oddly enough, I feel most creative when I’m bored, when I have nothing to do. Because when I’m bored, I have to figure out ways to entertain myself. My thoughts begin racing as I conjure up potential scenarios and other story elements which would erase my current boredom.

I was raised to always be humble and mature about my successes in life. Somewhere along the line, as I reached adolescence, this humility perverted into a sense of unworthiness, my own experience with imposter syndrome. I will be the first to say that it is by no means a result of my upbringing- rather, my parents have always claimed that I deserve the world and that one day I will get it. Yet, despite their support, I find myself slipping into my own thoughts, thoughts that question whether I truly deserve the world, or any good things for that matter. Speaking to my friends about this feeling of being a fraud, I have realized that it is an almost universal feeling amongst teens, one that is near impossible to articulate but painfully relatable. For my friends and I, we turn to books and songs to express our complicated feelings about growing older and soon going off to college. When Olivia Rodrigo released GUTS this fall, I felt as if all my feelings, thoughts, and concerns had finally been put in words. I felt so seen. GUTS’s soundtrack was painfully relatable, especially as a teenage girl struggling with anxiety and others’ expectations. All the lyrics seemed applicable to my personal experiences, from the frustration expressed in “love is embarrassing” to the shameful jealousy depicted in “lacy”. More than anything, however, I found myself drawn to a specific lyric from “making the bed”: “Another perfect moment that doesn't feel like mine”. For me, that specific lyric carries a significant weight and meaning to it. The first thing that piqued my interest was the choice of the word “perfect”. I have long strived to be perfect in my grades, my sport, my social life, despite knowing that that level of perfection is unattainable. The fact that all these “perfect moment[s]” don’t feel like her own emphasizes- to me, at least- the hollowness of appearances, while also expressing this feeling of self-doubt. The moment may be everything she dreamed of and more, yet she cannot fathom that she herself is experiencing it, that she is deserving of it. That is a sentiment I relate to all too well. Aside from my own interpretation and connection to the lyric, it also holistically captures the true character of adolescence and the many challenges that come with it. My generation was raised with screens and social media almost from birth. While there are several benefits to social media, such as interconnectedness, there are also harmful effects, specifically the promotion of unrealistic standards and expectations. Teenage girls compare themselves to thirty-year-olds playing teens in a show, or to celebrities on the cover of a magazine, an idea expressed in Rodrigo’s “pretty isn’t pretty” from GUTS. This ideal “perfect moment” results in feelings of inadequacy, of not being enough or worthy of recognition. Seeing as she herself is a young woman trying to figure things out, Olivia Rodrigo unsurprisingly captures the essence of adolescence and its many struggles, making GUTS incredibly relatable and personal to its listeners.

If you could be any superhero, who would you be? Some may say the Hulk, for his strength; Iron Man for his cunning and innovation; Scarlet Witch for her seemingly unmatched power. Or, perhaps Spider-Man, because he’s the most attainable superhero of them all. From the 1961 introduction of Stan Lee’s Spider-Man, the character has captured the hearts and interests of hundreds of thousands of readers, especially teenagers. While superheroes like Thor and Captain America were confident and imposing, Peter Parker’s Spider-Man was awkward, lovable, and painfully relatable to then- and now- teens. A dorky nerd turned charming vigilante is Marvel’s rendition of the traditional American Dream, a reflection of the idea that even a harmless kid can turn into something great. The pop culture buzz around Spider-Man heightened even more with its first film adaptation, the 2002 movie titled Spider-Man, starring Tobey Maguire as the title figure. After releasing two more films in the series, Tobey Maguire’s Spider-Man ended, though it was quickly followed by Andrew Garfield’s The Amazing Spider-Man in 2012. While Tobey Maguire played a great, dorky Peter Parker, he gave an average performance as the superhero, lacking the necessary wit. While adored for his unique take on the character, Andrew Garfield played Peter Parker too cool and sexy, although ultimately giving him the perfect mysterious vibe to his Spider-Man. However, Tom Holland is my favorite Spider-Man because he expertly plays both aspects of the character- the dorky, lovable nerd and the witty, sarcastic superhero- making the movies enjoyable and addictive. Holland’s passion and personal investment in the character’s success is especially what elevates his performance above those who came before him. Tom Holland portrays Peter Parker as a socially awkward and adorable high school boy, earning him props for his relatable performance. Many people have cited his full embrace of what it means to be a teen- flaws and all- as the reason for his success in the role. This is best evident through his interesting approach in preparation for his role, in which Holland enrolled as an undercover student in the Bronx High School of Science to learn more about American youth culture. Holland shadowed a student who was academically similar to Peter Parker, blending in by using his American accent and the fake name of “Ben”. Not only does this speak to his dedication to the role, but it also explains the life which he brings to the character, an element missing from other portrayals. In addition to his perfect portrayal of Peter Parker, Holland plays the witty and sarcastic Spider-Man effortlessly. In a 2012 interview, Holland voiced his dream of playing Spider-man in “ten years time”, a dream which was actualized five years earlier than expected with the release of Spiderman: Homecoming in 2017. Holland’s apparent love for Spider-Man is seen through the readiness with which he approaches the project, and through his persistent promotion of the film series. It is clear that Holland not only knows the character very well, but embodies the personality of the character both on and off screen. In his interviews, Holland has displayed his quick wit and his loveable inability to keep a secret, leading many people to claim that he is the “IRL” Spider-Man. Tom Holland is my favorite Spider-Man because he loves the character as much- if not more so- than his fans. He respects and understands who Spider-Man is and what that means to people. Said best by Spider-Man creator Stan Lee: “It's as if we created a living being to be Spider-Man, and it turned out to be Tom.”

Many romcom fans of today’s age can agree that newer rom-coms are lacking that “spark”, that attraction so necessary and effortlessly achieved by the late 90s and early 2000s films. No modern film can compare to the feeling I get in my heart when Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson receive their happily ever after in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, the devastation I feel when Amy Adams’ character returns home in Leap Year, or the laughter-induced tears I shed during Just Friends. Romantic comedies nowadays just don’t have the same effect. That is, besides Netflix’s 2018 film Set it Up. Set it Up is a quirky, charming, delightful romcom that includes the tropes enemies to friends to dating, playing matchmaker, and accidental romance. Starring Zoey Deutch and Glen Powell as the two main love interests, the movie is endearing in a funny, awkward way. It genuinely gives you the feeling of the authentic rom coms from thirty years past. Deutch and Powell’s characters play assistants to two incorrigible bosses- played by Lucy Liu and Taye Diggs, respectively- who attempt to get their employers together in order to make them more tolerable. In classic romcom fashion, as the two main characters set up their bosses, they find themselves spending more and more time together, and their partnership transforms from purely business-related to pleasurable. While the plot is hilarious and intriguing, that is not why I am so drawn to this film. In fact, for the longest time, I couldn’t put my finger on why I liked it so much. Each new friend I made was suggested (or forced) to watch this movie, and I anxiously awaited to hear their opinion on it. I found myself becoming very protective of the quirky Harper and the lovable himbo Charlie, and took it very personally if somebody didn’t like the movie. My maternal feelings towards the Netflix original are what exposed me to the reason I adore it so; besides being a mindless romcom in the best possible way, it’s also an inspiring film about following your heart and your dreams, regardless of outside opinions. As an aspiring English major, I found myself sympathizing with Harper’s dreams of writing, dreams comparable to Andie Anderson’s hopes to become a more serious writer. As someone who has routinely been questioned- “But what will you do with an English major?”- I appreciate and relate to Charlie’s sense of uncertainty. The reason I am so infatuated by this film is because I can see myself reflected by the characters and their onscreen problems. I find movies with perfect leads to be boring and aggravating, and Set it Up has the perfect combination of wit and charm to make it relatable and enjoyable to everybody. While not everybody is an aspiring writer or confused employee, we can all relate to the feeling of confusion, to the thought that we’re not doing enough with our lives. Besides this, the movie is absolutely hilarious, albeit sometimes awkward, in a way that makes it impossible to take your eyes off it. If you’re down on yourself, or in need of a laugh, or just want to watch the goddess that is Lucy Liu, then I suggest you watch Netflix’s Set it Up.

What is the difference between a boss and a leader? They both direct, they both hold power, and they both motivate. So what is the difference? Where a boss orders, a leader involves and delegates. Where a boss maintains the power and responsibility for themself, a leader shares the responsibility with all members. Where a boss is just doing their job, a leader is doing a service, both to themselves and to others. A common misconception about leadership is that leaders are born, not made. On the contrary, leadership is learned, and easily so, at that. The only thing required to become a leader is to work towards a common goal; one doesn’t have to be in charge of the group for them to be a leader of the group. A true leader is aware of what makes them an effective leader, and how to enhance these qualities. My character traits and my upbringing are what make me a leader, what make me a good leader. A prominent female lawyer once said this about their case: “This makes me emotional and I'm expressing it. I have no difficulty holding both logic and emotion at the same time, and it does not diminish my powers. It expands them." Granted, it was Lawyer Barbie from Greta Gerwig’s new movie, but it still applies, and it still made me think about my role as a leader. Similarly to Lawyer Barbie, I find that my balance between logic and emotion helps me to better assess situations and provide guidance to others. As Student Council President, I often am forced to be unbiased, in votes and with elections of officers. However, there have been several times when I had to voice my emotions along with my reasoning, such as when I voiced my discomfort at somebody running for a certain position because they thought it was “easy”. Often, my passion for Student Council gets me in trouble. But ultimately, my passion is what makes me a good President. My passion is what gets things accomplished. My passion for what I do is what helps me set aside personal opinions for the greater good. My passion for serving the school and community is what makes me a good, fair leader. I wrote earlier that leaders are not born, but they can be nurtured. A large part of my success as a leader is due to the way I was raised. With a Human Resources manager for a mom, I was taught very early on in my childhood the qualities of a leader, of somebody who people would want to follow. I was taught the importance of self-awareness, compassion, humility, authenticity, and hard work. I was taught that nobody would follow me or believe in my capabilities if I didn’t first believe in myself. Above all else, I was taught by my mom that a leader isn’t perfect, nor does a leader have to do everything by themself. Throughout my years on Student Council, I’ve grown as a leader. I have learned how to properly delegate tasks, how to trust my fellow members, and how to give grace to myself and others. A good leader rejects perfection but strives for greatness; pushes others and pushes themself harder still; admits when they’re wrong and attempts to be better; allows others to lead and gives others the recognition they deserve. A good leader is what I was raised to be, what I am. I am a leader and a pretty good one at that.