Throughout my life, connection has always come from one thing – cartoons. When I was first introduced to this country, with a funny accent and a world of differences between me and my Kindergarten classmates, I used My Little Pony as a conversation starter. Our friendship hinged on creating new stories, characters, and books. I even created a multi-part book series in 2nd grade because of the support from my friends and my love for the show. Without My Little Pony as an anchor, I don’t know how I would’ve created a bridge in such a new environment. Then I entered another period in my life where I was isolated and alone. Where I couldn't talk to anyone, where I struggled to make new friends, where I stopped communicating with people.The lockdown due to the COVID-19 Pandemic cut my new 6th grade life short. What was supposed to be the beginning of life after elementary school and the beginning of new friendships, became about trying my hardest to maintain the few I already had. What I used to keep those relationships strong was anime. Attack on Titan, Haikyuu, My Hero Academia, and more. Our conversations centered around these things to distract from the distressing world around us. We debated who would pair with who if they were in college, or at work, or in a professional setting. When the isolation had begun to feel suffocating, when I didn’t have the motivation to get out of bed, to eat, to log onto zoom class where I would be the only person with my camera on again, it was these cartoons that helped. I closed my door, and watched them. Watched anime, watched videos about anime, watched cartoons, watched spinoff videos people made based on the cartoons. Fictional animated characters kept me afloat, when all I wanted to do was sink. However, it was unstable. I couldn’t help others with my own animations in the way that they had originally helped me because there was no money in it. I felt that I couldn’t pursue my dream, after never being set on what I wanted to do before, because it felt like I wouldn’t be able to survive. However, after engaging in community art centers, making my own animations, learning the technology like blender I felt myself being pulled more and more to my true path. When I started my podcast, that is when I truly started to believe in my ability to pursue this dream. While interviewing a gaming company CEO, a USA Today Best Selling author, a graphic designer with her own company, and more I learned one major thing: doing what you love always leads to success. Whether this success is emotionally, professionally, or another way is indeterminate. If changing majors 4 times, completing university in 5 years, and having a job at a call center is the path it took one of my guests to eventually start their award winning game publishing company, I can take risks too. I dream to create animations like Rapunzel, My Hero Academia, Spiderman Into the Spiderverse that help others into the light and then help them share that life with others. Culturally, spiritually, or societally, I want to help others break boundaries and build bridges just like animation did for me as the new kid.

Every Monday since the 6th grade, I have faithfully logged into Webtoon and read SubZero. Every Tuesday, it is Honey Lemon. Each day of the week is a different story, a different world. As I researched customs and discovered hidden problems in different communities to understand the context of my webtoons, the world grows more connected in my mind. With this connection, my desire to learn more and share more grows as well. This is where my love for creation and storytelling started. This very habit made me dream of becoming an animator, to be able to bring these stories to life. However, I felt hopeless. I couldn't find a way to succeed in the passion I loved so much, with everyone around me warning about the "starving artist" trope. Coupled with my self-doubt, that rhetoric made me believe that I would have to force myself to fit into the typical mold of society and study science or government. The safer options. Then one day, I attended a career fair at my school. With low expectations, I kept my head down until I saw a table that was practically shining. A flurry of colors and excitement in a school gym that was filled with bleak-looking tables. When I went over, I engaged in one of the most important conversations of my life. At my small, unknown school, I met the CEO of a game development company. In that short 10-minute conversation, he bestowed on me so much wisdom that I suddenly felt slightly more secure in my career choice. Then I realized that this is exactly what everyone else needed to hear. This new influx of information helped me realize the gap in arts information for myself and others. I saw this gap in the faces of family members as they (badly) feigned support for my pursuit of the arts, or that others thought there were only two accepted career paths for immigrants. I wanted to help others have the information they needed – which I had – to confidently take that leap into the arts. So I started my podcast. So, then I took a small step, a short, quick email: “Good morning, Mr. Hicks! I’m Anya Ottiende and felt really inspired by you at the recent career fair. I would love the chance to talk further about your gaming company…” and then another one. “Good morning, Mx. Kelley…” and more. Despite how ridiculous I felt sending an email to these established authors and award-winning game makers, they responded with excitement, willing to talk to me about their careers as artists. This is when I discovered not only the true joy of learning for myself, but also teaching others. This project is where I’ve been able to talk to so many people with twists and turns in their path and help others create theirs has helped me understand that anything is possible at any time. Through the interdisciplinary nature of the college, I will be able to learn about different perspectives globally and locally by being surrounded by peers who are experts in cinema, gender, philosophy, politics, linguistics, and be able to tell unique stories that resonate with them and others to foster connection. I want to be able to create and foster a world where people can support one another and realize that you can make anything happen, as long as you believe and trust in yourself.

Every Monday since the 6th grade, I have faithfully logged into Webtoon and read SubZero. Every Tuesday, it is Honey Lemon. Each day of the week is a different story, a different world. As I research customs and discover hidden problems in different communities to understand the context of my webtoons, the world grows more connected in my mind. With this connection, my desire to learn more and share more grows as well. Through my podcast, my voice, and my art, I want to expose more of the world's stories – the stories that connect 8 billion across the world in amazing ways. However, to achieve this experience, people and companies in the industry have begun to repeat and recycle what has worked before without trying to innovate. We have seen this in the attempt by Disney to recreate the styles pioneered by Pixar in Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse, and the heavy resemblance of K-Pop songs Knife by Enhypen and Go! By Cortis to their record-breaking predecessor FE!N by Travis Scott featuring Playboi Carti. Looking for a quick way to achieve success, the industry is forgetting its roots – innovation. This repetition has dulled down the media forms that used to inspire me so much. As an arts and humanities student, I hope to change this trend even if I have to try and fail repeatedly, just like how I did with the podcast I started. Through the interdisciplinary nature of the college, I will be able to learn about different perspectives globally and locally through being surrounded by peers who are experts in cinema, gender, philosophy, politics, linguistics, and be able to tell unique stories that resonate with them and others to foster connection. I want to make the world less individualistic and more community-minded by being able to understand one another, even if we don't agree. Through a diversified background and a specific goal, innovation blossoms - and I want to be the start of that. Through understanding, we can learn to help each other and be there in times of need, something I know intimately. Two years ago, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I felt like the world was collapsing in on me as I faced the imminent reality that my mother could leave this world sooner than I expected. Even though it was caught in an extremely early stage, also known as Ductal Carcinoma in Situ (DCIS), that never eased my experience. I learned the intimate parts of cancer that no one – not even school – had taught. In the periods of waiting in between appointments and surgeries, my mind raced, and I worried that the cancer cells were growing at that very moment. Ultimately, my mother chose to get a mastectomy, one of the most invasive surgeries she would ever have in her life. Luckily, it was a success. However, that wasn’t the hardest part. It was seeing my strong and healthy mother struggle to become so weak. I couldn't talk to anyone about my emotional struggles because I was afraid no one would understand my fear. In this time of need, art was my biggest solace. From stories in manga to animated cartoons, they helped me feel reassured that I could handle anything that came my family's way. This is the power of visual storytelling, and I hope to comfort someone with my storytelling through animations and games just like they already have for me.

I don’t do things that I hate, whether it's rewatching shows or eating pickles. I will go out of my way to ensure I never encounter things I don't like. However, there is one thing for which I’ve begrudgingly forsaken my hatred of redoing things. One project where I have to hear my voice over and over again. Where I have to keep listening, editing, and refining. It's my child, after all. My podcast. I started The Artists’ Path Podcast on a hot summer’s day, in the middle of the public library, sitting at a computer next to some kids playing Roblox. I wanted the chance to interview and interact with artists from all sorts of professions. This way, I could see their path to success in order to educate myself and others on the possible ways to shape ours. The arts (specifically animation) showed me many different worlds, stories, and people. I wanted to do the same for others. But after hours of scrolling and reading and researching, I learned one thing about a successful career in the arts - that isn’t possible. Well, according to Reddit, Twitter, and every reel warning about becoming a “starving artist.” It was hopeless, and my plan wouldn’t work no matter what I did. How could I even try to pursue animation if I didn't have a path to follow? I wouldn't take those steps. I would shift the paradigm by doing something unexpected and creating my own path. The internet and career fairs had only done so much for me. I needed more advice, more information, more of everything. Then I took a small step, a short, quick email: “Good morning, Mr. Hicks! I’m Anya Ottiende and felt really inspired by you at the recent career fair. I would love the chance to talk further about your gaming company…” and then another one. “Good morning, Mx. Kelley…” and more. Despite how ridiculous I felt sending an email to these established authors and award-winning game makers, they responded with excitement, willing to talk to me about their careers as artists. This new influx of information helped me realize the gap in arts information for myself and others. I saw this gap in the faces of family members as they (badly) feigned support for my pursuit of the arts, or that others thought there were only two accepted career paths for immigrants. I wanted to help others have the information they needed – which I had – to confidently take that leap into the arts. So I started my podcast. This is when I discovered not only the true joy of learning for myself, but also teaching others. This project is where I’ve been able to talk to so many people with twists and turns in their path and help others create theirs. Moving past my hate for constant repetition and redoing, I learned something new with each episode. How to upload to Spotify. How to network. How to bypass the library computer’s restrictions on my editing app. Each hiccup was a learning adventure. Redoing something suddenly became a part of my everyday life. I had to forgo my fear of rejection every time I sent an email or started asking questions for an interview. I learned to swallow my embarrassment and push through email after email, even when there was no response. The growth, just from repeating the same task, has broken down my invisible barriers. Now I know that it is possible to have surprise and repetition co-exist. Now, I can redo, “re”-invent, anything because I know how life-changing it can become.