I’ve visited Disney World more than ten times, and I’ve never met my favorite character once. I’ve been determined to find him roaming around the parks or in a meet-and-greet spot, but I’ve been out of luck. He’s adventurous, spontaneous, daring, and hilarious, all while rocking a pair of iconic ears. No, of course, I’m not talking about the mouse, but rather a lucky rabbit. I have never related to any Disney character as much as Oswald. He’s the embodiment of someone with good intentions and a quirky personality. I enjoy watching his shorts from the late 20s as an avid fan of pictures from the 20th century. I love his simple yet memorable design: long bunny ears, large oval eyes, a little tail, and a big smile. I can also relate to him on a deeper level because he’s been an outcast in the parks—a living shadow. I think about the times when I’ve felt isolated from my family or friends because of my peculiar quirks. I acknowledge that Oswald’s descent away from Disney was not because of this, but this is my way of explaining the correlation. I saw the immense potential in the lucky rabbit. It saddens me that Disney fans couldn’t get to see the evolution of Oswald over the years—that the opportunity was stripped from us. It especially saddens me because when I first found out about him, I was hoping to find more content, but there wasn’t much available. His adorable yet charming character appealed to me, making him my favorite thing about Disney. When attending family gatherings, I felt out of place, unintentionally causing mischief so someone could pay attention to me, talk to me, or just acknowledge me. If Oswald were at the table, I’d be guaranteed a thrill. I’d be introduced to someone who understands where I’m coming from and why I do the things I do. We can laugh about uninvited jokes and cry about how hot our food is. I know he wouldn’t judge me because he can connect his feelings with mine and make them align in harmony. I hope one day I can find him roaming somewhere near me. Even on the web, he doesn’t seem to stick anywhere within reach. I revisit the parks once in a while, still looking for him. I’ve learned a valuable lesson from Oswald: people who hold great potential will never be forgotten, even if they’ve seemingly disappeared.

I sit on my front doorstep, writing poetry about how nature betrayed me yet how beautiful it is. I gaze at the moving clouds, searching for the right words as if they’re going to appear spelled out for me across the sky. I pop a headphone in my left ear and shuffle a playlist of emotional songs to generate ideas in my head. Eyes still magnified to the pastel shades of blue and white, “This Love” by Taylor Swift begins to play. Looking for answers desperately, I pause, listen to what Taylor is singing about, and realize that many answers aren’t so simple and may even be left unanswered. I’ve abandoned dozens of my spastic lyrics somewhere deep in my files to never be seen or read again. My friends continuously ask about them as if my forgotten poems were personified, taking the form of an old friend they’ve never met. I sigh, reminding them that I’ve written better pieces, never mentioning my writer's block. I’ve tried compiling an arrangement of versatile poetic techniques in my mind to then translate into a collection of raw, authentic work, but nothing seems to be going my way. This is when I knew I needed to reunite with my secret Ex-partner, that old file. This was the moment I realized they’d, as Taylor said, “left a permanent mark”. I click the tab, press open, and wait for the documents to load. The missing pages had taken so long to pull up on my screen that I was on the verge of calling it quits, but I knew this was my last resort. I scrolled through a 60-page manuscript that I had written about a year ago, hoping I could find a hidden gem somewhere. Although none of the poems I read were refined enough for my standards, there was one phrase that stood out to me in one of the titles, “Try Again”. I thought about how, in “This Love”, Taylor expresses her desire to try again with a past failed relationship. Even after finding new people, she always saw that old tinted light flickering at her, telling her to come back and give them another chance. Perhaps I could give my less developed words a chance and maybe aid them in growing up; maybe they have the potential to be as beautiful as anything I had written recently. I used elements from a few of my favorite pieces from my old manuscript, sowed them together, polished each stanza , and sent the final piece to a few of my friends to critique; the responses that I received were shocking. I got feedback that I had never gotten before. One of my friends even expressed that they adored my new poem dearly and that it was the best one I’ve ever written. Looking back at the new manuscript I was working on, I was determined to never be ashamed of my past writings, because without them, I’d be left twisting and turning, like Taylor. The song “This Love” inspired me to keep my past experiences close to me and that a reunion can become a blessing.

Residing in the heart of South Florida, Miami Beach, lives the pulse of the city and the jugular of the state, my very own estate, the 19 acre luxurious 1970s Seaside Barbie Dream House! The China blue property eminently represents the lively nature of the city and its longevity! With six floors and over 200 rooms to explore, you’ll never succumb to the monotonous tone of boredom. Each guest enters a gate clustered in gold stones fitting for the glittering atmosphere. Leisuring on the driveway: my 1956 Bentley S1, 1955 Studebaker President, and 1956 Lincoln Continental, each shaded the colors of the patriot: Old Glory Red, white, and Old Glory Blue; all roadable aircrafts equipped with blush pink propellers. This exceptionally camp estate even occupies a 100 foot yacht to ride out on the ocean and indulge in the blazing Miami sun! Once those 8 foot, diamond plated, front doors are opened, you’re immersed in an experience; a home beyond stationary. Even when the entrance remains ajar, the radiance that oozes through is apparent. At the center: Barbie 1986, Andy Warhol, hangs above the velveteen conversation pit, neon flashing pillows, and striking red candles exuding cardamom, pepper and ginger. To your left, one of the five spacious elevators lifting guests through this exhilarating paradise! To your right, our helical staircase encrusted in gilded flakes and rose petals. A few noteworthy scopes throughout the home include my vintage collection chamber and exquisite 1890s ballroom! Established on the second floor, adjacent to the library with over 1,000 books, you'll vision the grainy tinted walls decorating the room as jazz rhythms pounce from the vinyl player. Classic Barbie dolls dance to the blue tunes in ideal condition; reliving the polished reality of golden Hollywood. Vintage coins clank to the beats as the prime editions of Vogue frill their pages about! On the third floor, ball gowns sprout like lilies and Ragtime productions taste like fine wine; Victorian beyond uniform! Classical dances prance across the floor and handheld fans raise heads. Gloves and parasols unleash their wings graciously to the sounds of laughter as they twirl throughout the twinkling night; what a posh spectacle! While my model star luxury home can be easily exciting, it can be easily addicting! That's why I always remember to occasionally endure the outside world (dressed in my 60's tea shades and floral print poodle skirt)!

An eclectic embodiment of divinity’s qualities, poise, and grace surpassed anyone’s limits.

"Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world," I hear as I daydream, mesmerizing my Marilyn Monroe portrait in my glamorized bedroom embellished with glitzy trinkets. Though, amid the eye-catching paintings and vintage paraphernalia, I catch a volcano emerging: college pamphlets; talk about financial aid; admissions tips and tricks. Even in the very space I've created for myself to wind down, I can never forget about my biggest dream: the establishment of my independence. I can never forget the endless opportunities that roam beyond places I've never been, beckoning me to keep going, and the impact I can make with a hardened discernment and hopeful heart, as if I were living in my very own chimera. Now, my dream sounds whimsical to the ears, but where do I start? Building my foundation and climbing my way up the fulfillment ladder. As an aspiring entrepreneur, I'm aware of the immense risks I would need to take to discover my big break: the stigmatized culture, the financial battles, and my belief in my own creation. This is why I seek to refine my mind by expanding my knowledge and attending college. Exploring higher education is an adventure I've been elated for ever since I began my freshman year of high school back in August of 2020. Even though my introduction to senior high was navigated through a computer screen, you bet I was grinning ear to ear in my desk chair. Since then, I've indulged myself in research on all different fields of study, but my eye landed on business management and entrepreneurship. With everything I would learn from acquiring my MBA, I could feel empowered to continue on my path to greatness. I would be all the more qualified to stride through the world of business as I take on every obstacle by the chin. Going back to my dolled up cluster of a bedroom, you best believe she's coming with me on this ride. It's imperative that I remember the women before me that carried power beyond war at their polished fingertips; the women who designed the structure of the walkway that I'm learning to navigate; the women who didn't need to be diminished of their femininity to be taken seriously; the women who want me to follow the dreams similar to theirs; the women who never got to follow their dreams. I'm ready to begin honoring them. My opportunity to a higher education to build my individuality, nerve, and charisma is my top choice for a pair of dazzling pumps. Marilyn, watch me conquer the world.