The intricacies of a butterfly have always astounded me: their process of birth to life to transformation is something that stole all of my third-grade self’s attention during the life cycle unit. “Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” Muhammad Ali declared to my classmates and me during our Civil Rights unit. The Butterfly Effect: an acute, conditional dependence where even the smallest actions can cause monumental differences later in time. ‘This action—me picking up this pencil, or taking this step— could cause a fault, resulting in a continental rift a billion years down,’ and similar ideas consumed my thoughts. So many quotes, utilize the butterfly to encapsulate indescribable feelings, resilience in adversity, and more, not just because of the insect’s beauty, but the phenomenon of creating something beautiful out of itself. What was great was already inside of it; the evolution into greatness and grandeur is innate, even to something so seemingly small like the caterpillar it once was. I like to relate these to myself and the human condition in its entirety. From birth, I like to believe that we are meant to do something formative, something that will and can ultimately change someone’s life somewhere in a positive way—no matter how seemingly insignificant to some. Everyone deserves the chance to fulfill their self-acclaimed purpose, as, to me, everybody’s role is important. That being said, I hope, in my journalistic career I can spread foundational stories that uplift the broken, dismantle the oppressive, and amplify the voices of the silenced. Ida B. Wells left a mark on the history of journalism, African Americans, and racism in America. Her passion, drive, and curiosity have also, always been an inspiration to me. She was relentless in her mission for the truth, no matter how much danger could be imposed onto her, how those may dislike her, and who would be offended. Her investigation of lynchings throughout the South following the death of a friend by the same crime took true strength in the face of adversity and fervor that could only be described as fiery. My adoration for writing and people has always been a part of me: From the adventurous stories my excited third-grade self would write and share to the class, to my first day as a freshman staff writer on my high school newspaper, to becoming the first black editor-in-chief at my school my senior year. I aimed, and continue to aim, to ask as many questions as humanly possible, and write until my heart desired because that was, and is, my purpose. As I go into my second year of my undergraduate in journalism and political science at Georgia State University, I know I will stay inquisitive and passionate because it is intrinsic to my very being. I hope, wherever I go, to always have a writing utensil and somewhere to use it. There is a sort of magic that comes from putting thoughts onto paper (or word documents, too) in order to make some sort of impact, again, no matter how small. My eight-year-old self’s “Wow,” during that butterfly lesson has erupted a hurricane in my heart, sparking a life-long yearning for creativity and advocacy. I plan to showcase this through investigative journalism; I am ecstatic to chase the stories that others are possibly too afraid to tell. I was meant to do this—I know it— it is a fiery feeling that is difficult to expand upon because the passion is somewhat indescribable. I like to think of Wells’s work as more of an expansive version of The Butterfly Effect in which her actions have caused a continental rift in the world of journalism, then eventually, in me. As I further my studies in the journalistic universe, I plan to stay true to myself, honest to others, and write incessantly. Like the august and beloved butterfly, the success and influential impact are already inside of me, and writing in a journalistic setting is my outlet. By using my voice to be as loud and exuberant as they are in color, my ‘transformation’ into something greater will influence many the way the butterfly has and continues to. From birth to chrysalis, I, like the caterpillar, will pursue efflorescence into something bigger than myself that will change lives and inspire. No matter how acute I or my actions may feel to me in the future, they will, regardless of if it occurs in my lifetime, eventually affect something or someone to come. And that is beautiful.

The intricacies of a butterfly have always astounded me: their process of birth to life to transformation is something that stole all of my third-grade self’s attention during the life cycle unit. “Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” Muhammad Ali declared to my classmates and me during our Civil Rights unit. The Butterfly Effect: an acute, conditional dependence where even the smallest actions can cause monumental differences later in time. ‘This action—me picking up this pencil, or taking this step— could cause a fault, resulting in a continental rift a billion years down,’ and similar ideas consumed my thoughts. So many quotes, utilize the butterfly to encapsulate indescribable feelings, resilience in adversity, and more, not just because of the insect’s beauty, but the phenomenon of creating something beautiful out of itself. What was great was already inside of it; the evolution into greatness and grandeur is innate, even to something so seemingly small like the caterpillar it once was. I like to relate these to myself and the human condition in its entirety. From birth, I like to believe that we are meant to do something formative that will and can ultimately change someone’s life somewhere positively—no matter how seemingly insignificant to some. I hope in my journalistic career I can spread foundational stories that uplift the broken, dismantle the oppressive, and amplify the silenced. Ida B. Wells left a mark on the history of journalism, African Americans, and racism in America. Her passion, drive, and curiosity have also, always been an inspiration to me. She was relentless in her mission for the truth, no matter the threat or who would be offended. Her investigation of lynchings throughout the South took true strength in the face of adversity and the art of writing. My adoration for writing and people has always been a part of me: From the adventurous stories my excited third-grade self would write and share to the class, to my first day as a freshman staff writer on my high school newspaper, to becoming editor-in-chief my senior year. I write until my heart desires because that is, my purpose. As I go into my second year of my undergraduate in journalism and political science at Georgia State University, I know I will stay inquisitive and passionate because it is intrinsic to my very being. I like to think of Wells’s work as more of an expansive version of The Butterfly Effect in which her actions have caused a continental rift in the world of journalism, then eventually, in me. As I further my studies in the journalistic universe, I plan to stay true to myself by writing incessantly. Writing, to me, is a conversation. A conversation between me and a medium in which I can record my passions, innermost thoughts, and stories that can influence others. I hope, wherever I go, to always have a writing utensil and somewhere to use it. There is a sort of magic that comes from putting thoughts onto paper (or word documents, too) to make some sort of impact, again, no matter how small. The simple flap of a butterfly’s wing erupted a hurricane in my heart, sparking a life-long yearning for creativity and advocacy. Like the august and beloved butterfly, this success is already inside of me—writing being the outlet. From birth to chrysalis, I, like the caterpillar, will pursue efflorescence into something bigger than current myself that will inspire. No matter how acute I may feel, they will eventually affect something or someone to come—and that is beautiful.

The intricacies of a butterfly have always astounded me: their process of birth to life to transformation is something that stole all of my third-grade self’s attention during the life cycle unit. “Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” Muhammad Ali declared to my classmates and me during our Civil Rights Movement unit in middle school. The concept that stuck with me the most was The Butterfly Effect: an acute, conditional dependence where even the smallest actions can cause monumental differences later in time. Deterministic in it itself, this theory confounded me. It made complete and total sense but, nevertheless, left me awestruck. ‘This action—me picking up this pencil, or taking this step— could cause a fault, resulting in a continental rift a billion years down,’ and thoughts similar tended to consume my thoughts. So many quotes, utilize the butterfly to encapsulate indescribable feelings, resilience in adversity, and more, not just because of the insect’s beauty, but the phenomenon of creating something beautiful out of itself. What was great was already inside of it; the evolution into greatness and grandeur is innate, even to something so seemingly small like the caterpillar it once was. I like to relate these to myself and the human condition in its entirety. From birth, I like to believe that we are meant to do something formative, something that will and can ultimately change someone’s life somewhere in a positive way—no matter how seemingly insignificant to some. Everyone deserves the chance to fulfill their self-acclaimed purpose, as, to me, everybody’s role is important. That being said, I hope, in my journalistic career I can spread foundational stories that uplift the broken, dismantle the oppressive, and amplify the voices of the silenced. Ida B. Wells left a mark on the history of journalism, African Americans, and racism in America. Her passion, drive, and curiosity have also, always been an inspiration to me. She was relentless in her mission for the truth, no matter how much danger could be imposed onto her, how those may dislike her, and who would be offended. Her investigation of lynchings throughout the South following the death of a friend by the same crime took true strength in the face of adversity and fervor that could only be described as fiery. My adoration for writing and people has always been a part of me: From the adventurous stories my excited third-grade self would write and share to the class, to my first day as a freshman staff writer on my high school newspaper, to becoming the first black editor-in-chief at my school my senior year. I won a multitude of awards from first place in the state for my photography (GSPA), to Journalist of the Year, Lifetime Achievement awards, to national attention on multiple articles (BestofSNO). I aimed, and continue to aim, to ask as many questions as humanly possible, and write until my heart desired because that was, and is, my purpose. As I go into my second year of my undergraduate in journalism and political science at Georgia State University, I know I will stay inquisitive and passionate because it is intrinsic to my very being. I hope, wherever I go, to always have a writing utensil and somewhere to use it. There is a sort of magic that comes from putting thoughts onto paper (or word documents, too) in order to make some sort of impact, again, no matter how small. My eight-year-old self’s “Wow,” during that butterfly lesson has erupted a hurricane in my heart, sparking a life-long yearning for creativity and advocacy. I plan to showcase this through investigative journalism; I am ecstatic to chase the stories that others are possibly too afraid to tell. I was meant to do this—I know it— it is a fiery feeling that is difficult to expand upon because the passion is somewhat indescribable. I like to think of Wells’s work as more of an expansive version of The Butterfly Effect in which her actions have caused a continental rift in the world of journalism, then eventually, in me. As I further my studies in the journalistic universe, I plan to stay true to myself, honest to others, and write incessantly. Like the august and beloved butterfly, the success and influential impact are already inside of me, and writing in a journalistic setting is my outlet. By using my voice to be as loud and exuberant as they are in color, my ‘transformation’ into something greater will influence many the way the butterfly has and continues to. From birth to chrysalis, I, like the caterpillar, will pursue efflorescence into something bigger than myself that will change lives and inspire. No matter how acute I or my actions may feel to me in the future, they will, regardless of if it occurs in my lifetime, eventually affect something or someone to come. And that is beautiful.

My Boxer, Bruiser, can be described as the 'old soul' of the two companions—although it is not a misnomer since he is now seven-years-old. Laid-back and fond of cuddles is the sweet Boxer. When Bruiser was five, Dallas, the ever-excited Boston Terrier, jumped into the family (literally) with perky ears that are always listening out for a party (or me saying, “Treat?!”). At first, Bruiser was curious and reluctant as Dallas was (and still is) not scared of anything; his short stature doesn’t hinder his confidence—at all. But today, the two make the best of friends; they are truly inseparable.