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.