Writing is important to me because it is another limb of my body. I believe that the world is full of stories and thoughts that make everything move forward. To write it to hold those stories and give them back to the world. Writing is the hand that holds the stories and thoughts and ideas of the world so that they are not forgotten. When I write, I use this special limb. When I write, the rest of me functions. Writing is important to me because it is my voice. I'm known to be a talkative person, but it is when I write that I feel I have truly spoken. When I write, I am able to say what my tongue does not and cannot. Writing is a voice that I can touch and feel with the rest of my senses. Writing is important to me because I am a woman in love with words. When I first discovered how much I love to read at the age of eleven, I also discovered that there are people who have the ability to take words and form them into something that can change and influence others. They are called writers, and I wanted to become like them. Writing allows me to play with words, combine and arrange them as I please, and turn them into something new. To write is to love words. Writing is important to me because to write is to live. The argument of when civilization truly emerged has been ongoing for as long as anyone can remember. People point to specific moments in history or certain inventions to mark the birth of the concept of civilization. I say that no matter when civilization emerged, it is when mankind began to write that life and all it had to offer truly began to flourish. When mankind wrote, he offered a picture of what it is that makes him alive. All these are but glimpses of why the art of writing matters to me personally. But to summarize them all, writing simply makes me who I am. Beyond my ambition to become a writer and to teach the art and science of transferring thoughts onto pages cohesively, writing has become the identity I have latched onto- tightly and dearly. It is limb voice and voice, an act of love, a very glimpse of living itself. It is the infinity that seizes even time itself when pen meets page and thought and world are bridged together.

The song that has the most important message to me is "Middle of a Moment" from the Broadway musical adaptation of Roald Dahl's children's novel "James and the Giant Peach". I first heard this song as an undergraduate student while browsing for musical soundtracks to listen to. Roald Dahl is one of my favorite authors, so I was pleased to know that "James and the Giant Peach" is now a musical. My entire world stopped when the song "Middle of a Moment" started playing. James, the character singing this song, was dreaming of a life beyond the misery he felt was staying with his cruel aunts. He was an orphan, alone in the world. He sings: "So you're stuck, in the middle of a moment. No clear path, no shining star. Only steps away, and the world's okay, but you can't see that far. There, in the middle of a moment, you're halfway to somewhere new. Can't go back. You're moving through." The words "Only steps away, and the world's okay" struck me to the core. I was an anxious student afraid of the unknown. I had no idea what the future would hold for me after I graduated from college. But here was a little orphan boy telling me that only steps away, and the world's okay. Sometimes I feel like I am stuck in the middle of a moment. Sometimes I don't see any path or star to guide me. But if it only takes a few steps to take me closer to where I'm meant to be, then the world really is okay. Maybe I don't have a giant peach to whisk me away on a magical adventure or some talking insect friends to share wisdom with me. But I do have this song.

Today is Dia de los Muertos- the Day of the Dead. I think of my baby brother, who died at the age of one. I was four when I lost my first best friend, a sibling who now only exists in my memories. Today, I celebrate him. My brother Joemig passed away during a family vacation to California. He died of a heart condition. Losing little Joemig makes me wonder if I'm making the most of what may be presumably a long life. I am twenty-six years old. I've lived a life that my brother could not. I've gone to school, I've travelled abroad, and I've fallen in love. I've won some and I've lost some. My brother will not. At least, not in this world. Mortal life is imperfect. Losing my brother motivates me to embrace those imperfections that mortal life throws at me. Losing my brother motivates me to grab whatever the world throws at me and make it my own. As I go through my master's degree, my brother's short life reminds me to fight to finish this next part of my educational journey because I am here. I am the one who has this chance. Because someday, I will leave this world and see my baby brother again. And when Joemig asks me what I've done with my life, I wanna tell him that I did it all- or at least, tried to do it all. I want to tell him about the education I've fought so hard to attain. I want to tell him about the career that I'm so passionate about. I want to tell him about the people I've met and loved. I want to tell him about my struggles and my victories. Today is the Day of the Dead. But not having my baby brother by side reminds me that it is just as much a day of the living. Because I live. And he would want me to fight to live and see my dreams come true.

As a master's degree student in English Literature, it's no surprise that my favorite Disney character is Belle from "Beauty and the Beast". Belle is definitely a hero to anyone with a love for literature and the desire to be understood by someone who loves them for who they are. This "beauty but a funny girl" combines intelligence with grace and integrity. Belle is my favorite Disney character, not just because of her voracious reading habits that I myself replicate in my own life, but also because she represents the power of imagination. She lives in a place where people aren't the most open-minded, and it is her imagination that helps her see the possibilities beyond her "provincial life". She sees that the world around her could be better in so many ways. She also knows that life can only be whatever you make it to be and that nothing need stay the same forever. Belle is also the manifestation of what it means to love beyond appearance. She grew up in an environment that valued outside appearance, and yet she knew that this wasn't the mindset she wanted to uphold. Her love for the Beast that breaks his curse is perhaps the clearest example. Though the Beast's rather frightening appearance and gruff demeanor caused conflicts between the two of them, Belle was able to start seeing straight through his heart rather than his face. Belle is capable of this kind of love because she knows what it's like to be judged for her appearance not matching what's truly in her heart. Everyone expected her to be a simple-headed beauty, but she chose to cultivate her intelligence more than her looks. When I hold a book in my hands, I think of Belle. When I wear the color blue, I think of Belle. And perhaps the biggest reason why she is my favorite Disney character is that she is the closest to reality that I could find in any fairytale.

A world without words is hardly a world at all. I believe that when words are written, they hold power to sway the human mind and fuel the imaginations that will change society. When I discovered words' power to spark the fires of imagination, I knew that I wanted to study English literature. My fifth-grade Reading class had just read "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Magician's Nephew", and I always consider it to be the first book that made me fall in love with reading in the first place. It was my pathway to discovering that scholarship about reading and writing existed, I knew what my pursuit in life would be. I am passionate about English composition and literature because I know that people who hone the skills of precise language and comprehension become catalysts for change. It is through reading, writing, and composition that ideas are spread and communicated among people. It is how the world becomes more connected. I am passionate about English composition and literature because I want to become a part of the scholarly conversations regarding what I have been most passionate about since childhood. I am passionate about English composition and literature because the eleven-year-old girl who read "The Magician's Nephew" for the first time finally found something worth falling in love with. I am currently a master's degree student at Weber State University, having completed my bachelor's degree at Brigham Young University-Hawai'i. To no one's surprise, I studied English literature. I am still studying English literature. This is going to be my life-long pursuit. The most beautiful thing about this passion I found is that I can share it with others. I mentioned that I took up English because I fell in love with reading. But as my studies have progressed, I have found even more joy in building communities with others of a similar caliber. Our common love of reading and writing has become our support system, and I want that common love to benefit others. Aside from wanting to earn a doctorate in my field, I also want to provide publication avenues for underrepresented voices in academia- especially in literature. I want to teach the next generation of writers and scholars, conduct my own research, and even create academic and creative journals for those who feel like they don't have a space to get their writing out there. Why do I love English literature and composition? Because I'm writing a story for the whole world to read and helping others find the space to write theirs.

There is earth beneath your feet So trod the path you have drawn with a single stick. See where the mountains and the sun meet? Walk there, for the path is not drawn with ink. A kiss is not a promise Neither are poetry and fickle prose The key to bliss. Passion isn’t necessarily as red as a rose. Unsurety is a tight-rope And we are all acrobats balancing On the delicate thread of hope Hanging on with a lot of questioning But the point where the mountain and the sun meet Will never be scaled Unless we march that escalated, rocky street And touch the clouds, silver and pale The road can never be smooth Because it is made of earth And earth is never smooth It will never be gold-paved and scented with mirth But if there are stars in the sky And there’s a lonely, unpaved street Then by all means, try; For there is earth beneath your feet.