Education and career choice are both uniquely important topics to me. The final shred of my over-competitive spirit clings to my academics and chosen career paths because of how overzealous my goals are in regard to education. I intend to go to college for chemical engineering and attend an Ivy League school. This, in a way, represents the pride I still have in my abilities — because I hope to study one of the most intensive majors and also dream of attending a top university. Additionally, it is one of the highest-paying majors. Although my family is by no means poor, I don't want to struggle financially in the future. My parents work very physically intensive jobs, and I see how draining it is. I want a career that values knowledge rather than physical aptitude. I have always been fascinated by chemistry, and I think I have a unique advantage that sets me apart from other aspiring chemical engineers: I was the only person from my district to skip freshman science and go directly into sophomore biology. So, when I was chosen, I saw it as a great honor. It was this initial spark that led me to value science over any other vocation — the simple pride of being chosen out of the masses, for an admittedly small honor. I often find it difficult to divorce confidence from pride because I am unable to distinguish when confidence becomes excessive. I don't truly know if my goals are ostentatious and overzealous, or hopeful and ambitious. I struggle with objectively seeing myself, likely because for the longest time, I have been in an echo chamber of my own mind — and the internet. Which is bad for self-awareness and the psyche. I understand that pride isn't the noblest of motivations, and hubris is frequently a folly of great men, but so long as it keeps me charging headfirst into my goals, I will leave philosophical questions for after I achieve the success I hope for. In terms of impact, I feel as though most of my goals have always been centered on achieving personal success. Although making a large impact would no doubt be extremely gratifying, I have always focused on mastering my own abilities and the financial incentives involved. Perhaps that goes back to my pride — because I would rather feel the benefits of my labor myself, rather than contribute to something greater.

Growing up in a rural area, I have always felt that my ambition is somewhat prideful. Amid those who dream of little pleasures, I have always felt the need to prove myself in some manner — to branch out into a wider pond. The notion that I would spend my life in a small town, completing a job that garners little acclaim, feels almost suffocating. I deeply respect those who are able to be content with what they have, because ambition has always been a kind of growing pain for me. It propels me to make myself extraordinary but places invisible burdens of failure on my back. I can get so caught up in the practical that I forget the emotional, and I sometimes let my relationships fall by the wayside. Growing up in a rural community has made me into the opposite kind of person from those who enjoy that environment. In addition, various opportunities were not afforded to me because I lived in a rural community. My school had very few extracurriculars, no AP classes, and the content was much more rudimentary than what may have been offered in a larger school. So, although I had a smaller pool of people to compete with, there were seldom ways I could practically stand out other than perfect academics. Additionally, growing up in a rural area gave me a certain aversion to physically demanding jobs. Almost everyone where I grew up traded sweat for money, and it exhausted them. Seeing how it ground down my parents’ willpower, I resolved that I would make my career in something that values brain over brawn. That said, growing up in a rural area has had its pleasantries. I have a connection to my community on a deeper level than I think would be possible in a more populous area. I will always have nostalgia for rural Oregon and its rolling green vistas. I was allowed to stay at the same school my entire educational career, and I feel extremely privileged to have watched my peers grow as I did. There is no mystery in a small town — everybody knows everyone else, and I love that environment. There were only small amounts of bullying, at least towards myself, because I knew everyone — and likely their parents, too. But living on a smaller scale like that doesn’t expose you to different ideologies. I’ve found that smaller towns tend to think as a collective, and I’m grateful that I grew up in the age of the internet. It allowed me to research other schools of thought with ease. I feel that before the internet, there was less diversity of thought in rural towns, and thus fewer dreamers who strive for more.