Two teachers who really changed how I see both art and my life are Mrs. Mowery, my high school choir director, and Mrs. Endman, my theater teacher. They didn’t just teach me how to perform. They showed me how to use what I’m feeling instead of hiding it, how to be more compassionate, and how to keep going even when I’m exhausted. Mrs. Mowery was the first person who made me realize that music is not just about sounding good. It is about honesty. I remember one rehearsal where I was completely out of it. I was tired, stressed, and honestly just going through the motions. After class, she pulled me aside and instead of getting mad, she asked what was going on. When I told her I just didn’t have the energy that day, she said something that stuck with me. She told me that those are the days when you need to lean into the music the most. She encouraged me to use whatever I was feeling and put it into the song. The next time we ran it, I actually tried, and it felt completely different. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. That moment taught me that effort is not about being flawless, it is about showing up honestly, even when it is hard. Mrs. Endman pushed me in a similar way, but through acting. In her class, you could not hide behind a character. She expected you to actually feel what you were performing. I remember doing a scene where I was holding back because I did not want to look dramatic or embarrass myself. She stopped me and said that if I was not willing to go there emotionally, the audience would never care. That hit me. It made me realize that vulnerability is not something to avoid. It is what makes people connect. Because of her, I started to take more risks, not just on stage, but in how I express myself in general. Both of them also showed me what it means to give back. Whether it was performing for the community, helping younger students, or just creating a positive environment, they made it clear that art is meant to be shared. They also modeled kindness in the way they treated people. They paid attention, they listened, and they showed up for us even when they were tired. Because of Mrs. Mowery and Mrs. Endman, I have learned how to turn my emotions into something meaningful instead of shutting down. I have learned to be more open, more understanding, and more willing to put in effort even when I do not feel like it. They did not just teach me how to sing or act. They changed how I approach everything.

In a world where we’re constantly connected through technology, it’s kind of ironic how many people still feel alone. We can text anyone instantly, scroll through hundreds of lives, and still feel like no one really gets us. I think that’s the real challenge of human connection right now. It’s not about having more ways to communicate, it’s about making those connections actually mean something. For me, this is really personal. Growing up, I often felt isolated without fully understanding why. As a gay kid, I could tell I was different before I even had the words for it. That feeling made it hard to connect with people, and over time it turned into anxiety and this constant sense of being on the outside. Because of that, I don’t take real connection for granted. I’m not interested in surface-level relationships. I want honesty, depth, and the kind of connection where you don’t feel like you have to filter yourself. I think one way we can preserve real human connection is by focusing less on constant communication and more on meaningful communication. Technology makes it easy to talk all the time, but that doesn’t mean we’re actually saying anything real. Authentic connection takes vulnerability, and that only happens when people feel safe. I’ve been lucky to find that kind of safety with my friends Ava and Lily. With them, I don’t have to pretend everything’s fine or worry about being judged. We don’t tiptoe around each other, we just are who we are. That kind of environment doesn’t make my anxiety worse; it actually makes it quieter. And I think that’s what real connection is supposed to feel like. At the same time, I think we need to rethink how connection works on a larger scale, especially through art. Stories have always been one of the strongest ways people connect with each other. When you see a character who feels real to you, who’s messy and complicated and human, it can hit you in a way that nothing else does. That feeling, that emotional release, is catharsis. It’s realizing that someone else understands something you thought you were alone in. In a world where people are constantly scrolling and moving on, those moments of connection really matter. That’s a big part of what I want to do in the future. I want to create art that gives people that feeling. Especially for people who feel like outsiders, like I did, representation can mean everything. I don’t want to create one-dimensional characters or stories that feel fake. I want to create people who feel real. The kind of people with contradictions, struggles, and depth. Because that’s what actually helps people connect, not just with the story, but with each other. Someone might watch something I’ve made and feel seen for the first time. Someone else might understand a perspective they’ve never thought about before. Both of those things bring people closer in a way that social media alone can’t. That said, I don’t think technology is the enemy. It’s not going away, and it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It just depends on how we use it. If we treat it like a highlight reel or a performance, it can make people feel more disconnected. But if we use it to share real experiences and build genuine communities, it can actually strengthen connection. The problem isn’t the technology, it’s how easy it is to hide behind it. At the end of the day, I think the future of human connection comes down to being more intentional. It’s about choosing honesty over appearances, depth over convenience, and empathy over judgment. For me, that means building strong relationships, like the ones I have with my friends Ava and Lily, and creating art that helps other people feel less alone. Because no matter how advanced technology gets, the thing people are really looking for hasn’t changed. We just want to feel understood, and catharsis can do that!

My experience with mental health has shaped almost everything about me, like how I see myself, how I connect with people, and what I want for my future. A lot of it goes back to growing up gay in a way that felt confusing and isolating from the very beginning. Somehow, it felt like everyone else knew something about me before I did. Even in kindergarten, I remember feeling different. Other kids didn’t really want to be around me, and I didn’t understand why. At that age, you don’t have the language to explain it. You just start to assume it must be your fault. That feeling stuck with me for a long time. I started to see myself as an outsider, like there was something wrong with me that I couldn’t fix. It led to a lot of early anxiety, constantly wondering why it was so hard to make friends or feel included. I remember overthinking everything. How I acted, what I said, how people might be perceiving me. It’s strange to look back and realize how young I was when that started, but it definitely shaped how I grew up. For a while, I really believed I was just someone people didn’t want to be around. But as hard as that was, it also pushed me in a certain direction. My goals now are very much influenced by those early experiences. Because I know what it feels like to be left out, I want the opposite, not just for myself, but for other people too. I want to build a life where I’m surrounded by real, meaningful friendships, and where I can create a sense of community. More than that, I want to create art that reflects that same idea. I want to make work where people from any background can see themselves and feel like they’re not alone. Even if it’s just one person watching something I’ve made and thinking, “someone understands this,” that matters to me. That feeling of being seen can change everything. My mental health has also shaped my relationships, but honestly, in a really positive way. Because I’ve gone through anxiety and isolation, I don’t really believe in surface-level friendships. With the people I’m closest to, like my friends Ava and Lily, there’s no pressure to pretend everything is fine all the time. We don’t tiptoe around each other, and we don’t have to. There’s a kind of honesty in our friendships that makes them feel safe. If I’m struggling, I know I can talk to them without feeling judged, and that’s something I don’t take for granted. The environment we’ve created for each other isn’t stressful or overwhelming. It should be supportive in a way that actually helps quiet that anxiety instead of adding to it. At the same time, my experiences have definitely affected how I see the world. I think I notice things that I might not have otherwise, like when people are being left out or when systems don’t support people the way they should. One thing I’ve thought a lot about is how the education system doesn’t really do enough when it comes to mental health, especially for younger kids. There isn’t enough focus on helping parents or teachers recognize early signs of anxiety or emotional struggles. Looking back, I wonder how different things might have been if someone had noticed what I was going through and knew how to help. That’s something I hope to change in my own way. Through art and storytelling, I want to bring more attention to mental health and what people go through internally. I think representation in the media can do a lot. It can make people feel understood, but it can also help others learn to recognize and care about experiences that aren’t their own. If more people grow up seeing honest portrayals of mental health and identity, I think it could make a real difference. At the end of the day, my mental health hasn’t just been a challenge, but also a learning experience. It’s shaped what I care about and what I want to create. I don’t think I’d have the same drive to build community or tell meaningful stories if I hadn’t gone through what I did. And while I wouldn’t say those experiences were easy, I do think they’ve helped me become someone who really values connection, honesty, and making sure other people don’t feel as alone as I once did.

I’m currently studying with a focus on the humanities and interdisciplinary subjects, and I plan to continue into the arts—especially theater, film, and storytelling. What draws me to these fields is how they connect real life to creativity. The more I’ve learned, the more I’ve realized that stories aren’t just entertainment—they’re one of the most powerful ways we understand each other. Through my education, I’ve started to see how issues like identity, inequality, and history can be explored through art in a way that actually reaches people emotionally. That’s what I want to do with my future: create work that makes people feel, think, and maybe even see the world a little differently. Being part of the LGBTQ+ community has shaped a lot of who I am and how I see that goal. Growing up, I was bullied for being gay, and that experience was honestly really isolating. There were times when I felt like I had to hide parts of myself just to avoid being targeted. It took time to work through that, and I’m still growing from it, but one thing that helped me was finding stories—whether in books, movies, or plays—where I could actually see parts of myself reflected. That kind of representation meant more than I can really put into words. It made me feel less alone. Because of that, I definitely see myself as someone who wants to give back to the LGBTQ+ community. I think the biggest way I can do that is through the kind of art I create. I want to tell stories with LGBTQ+ characters who feel real—people who are complicated, flawed, and human, not just stereotypes or side characters. I want someone else to watch or read something I’ve made and have that same feeling of being seen that meant so much to me. I also care about making creative spaces more inclusive, where people feel safe expressing who they are. Financially, paying for school is a real concern for me and my family. There have been changes in my family’s income that have made things tighter, and the cost of education keeps getting higher. It’s stressful trying to balance wanting to pursue something I’m passionate about with the reality of how expensive it is. Scholarships aren’t just helpful for me—they’re necessary. They would allow me to keep going without putting as much strain on my family and without constantly worrying about money. The Star Farm Scholarship would mean a lot to me, both financially and personally. It would give me the chance to keep pursuing what I love and working toward a future where I can make a difference through my art. I’m motivated to take what I’ve learned—both in school and from my own experiences—and turn it into something meaningful. I don’t just want to succeed for myself; I want to create work that helps other people feel understood, just like I once needed.

Education has never felt like a straight line for me, and more like a series of realizations. One moment in one class will connect to something I learned in another, or to something I experience in my own life. Over time, especially through my exposure to real world issues through my schools humanities magnet and interdisciplinary studies, I've come to understand that education is not just about absorbing information. It's about learning how to interpret the world, question it, and ultimately contribute to it. That realization has shaped both my goals and my sense of direction, particularly in how I want to use art as a vehicle for social awareness, empathy and change. The humanities (literature, history, theater, and philosophy) have shown me that art has always been intertwined with societal issues. Stories are never created in a vacuum. Whether it's a novel reflecting racial tensions, a play exploring class division, or a film addressing identity, art has consistently been a way for people to process the world around them. Through interdisciplinary learning , I've been able to see how these subjects overlap. I've seen how historical context informs literature, how philosophy shapes character motivations, and how performance brings abstract ideas into reality. This has changed how I approach my own creative work. I no longer see art as just entertainment but as a powerful tool to reflect real-life struggles and inspire conversations about equality and justice. This perspective became especially meaningful when I began to confront challenges in my own life, specifically, being bullied for being gay. That experience was isolating and painful, and for a while, I shrunk myself down, trying to become invisible and as easy to miss as possible. But education, particularly through the humanities, gave me language and context for what I was experiencing. Reading stories about marginalized individuals and learning about historical struggles of LGBTQ+ rights helped me understand that my experiences were not isolated. They were part of a larger narrative. A narrative that has included bullying and resistance. At the same time, studying character driven works in literature and theater helped me process my own emotions. I saw how complex, flawed characters could still worthy of understanding and compassion. That realization was incredibly important. It helped me move past seeing myself solely through the lense of how others treated me, and instead begint to see myself as a fully realized person with a story worth telling. In a way, education didn't just influence my goals, but also helped me rebuild and reinforce my sense of self worth. Overcoming bullying wasn't a single moment triumph though, but a gradual process. It involved earning how to advocate for myself, finding supportive communities, and, most importantly, refusing to internalize the negativity being directed towards me. My education played a key role in that process by showing me examples of people who had faced similar challenges and still creating meaningful impactful works or changes, like Anne Hutchinson who I learned about in AP US history. (She is one of my personal favourites) My education taught me that adversity can be transformed into something constructive and that pain can be healthy channeled into creativity. This is where my goals for the future begin to take shape. I want to pursue a career in the play/screenwriting, not just to tell stories, but to tell stories that matter. I want to create characters who are complex, sympathetic and deeply human - characters who reflect the diversity of real life. Too, often, Marginalized people are reduced to stereotypes. I want to challenge that by creating works that allow audiences to see these characters as fully developed individuals, with their own struggles, contradictions and strengths. I also want to work to create a sense of catharsis for audiences The arts have the unique ability to make people feel seen and understood, sometimes in ways that nothing else can. When someone watches a performance or engages with a story and recognizes a piece of themselves in it, it can be incredibly powerful. It can validate their experiences and help them process emotions they might not have been able to articulate otherwise. That's the kind of impact I want my work to have. At the same time, I hope my art can raise awareness about both past and present societal issues. By incorporating real world themes, such as inequality, discrimination, and identity, I can encourage audience members to think critically about the world around them, just like my education encouraged me to do so. I don't think that art has to be overtly political to be meaningful but I do believe it can subtly challenge perspectives and inspire empathy. something we are in mass need of. Even small shifts in understanding can lead to larger changes over time. Looking ahead, I see my education as an ongoing process rather than something that ends with a degree. The skills I've developed will continue to guide me. They will help me navigate my life. Ultimately, education has given me more than direction. It gives me a means to give back to my community.

I would say that there are quite a few movies that have impacted my life, but the chief among them would be Fried Green Tomatoes from 1991. Though I pride myself on being an emotionally mature and aware person, for some reason I cannot cry at movies. It makes me legitimately angry because the whole reason we watch movies is to achieve emotional catharsis. However, Fried Green Tomatoes is the expedition. I first watched it when I was home from school, sick with a fever, and I bawled like a baby. Ever since, all my friends have know that Fried Green Tomatoes is my favorite movie. It's impact is more sprawling then that. It is so hard to find real good queer media these days. As a gay man, all I notice are stereotypes. I have always felt that creators who make gay characters either make them stereotypical or are to afraid to make them complex/morally grey for fear of facing backlash. Fried Green Tomatoes has no such fears. It's characters are complex and beautiful. Its impact is shown in my storytelling. I aim to write characters as complex as those in Fried Green Tomatoes. I want to be able to have an audience emotionally connect to my characters because they are complex and multifaceted. Similarly, the visual beauty of Fried Green Tomatoes has had an impact on me. Though I have seen movies that I think are definitely more striking then Fried Green Tomatoes (Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte or Black Narcissus for instance) I do believe that Fried Green Tomatoes taught me the value of visual storytelling. There is one particular moment in the film that stand out to me, and that is right after the little girl, Idgie's, brother dies and she's sitting alone but the creek, silhouetted but the darkness, with the only light coming from a dwindling fire. Filmmakers incorporate emotional visuals all the time, but for some reason, this visual of a headstrong little girl, alone in the darkness, not knowing how to express the way shes grieving, hit home with me, and showed me that what an audience sees can be just as important as what they hear. I think that this in particular leads to that emotional catharsis. Lastly, Fried Green Tomatoes message is all about the values of relationships. For context my only friend had moved to Chicago in the seventh grade, and I made very few friends since, but when I watched Fried Green Tomatoes, I began to appreciate the people who were trying hard to be my friend. I realized that I didn't have to deny myself other friendships just because my most recent one faced a challenge. And now look at me. I have so many friends. A younger me would be amazed, and all because of one life changing movie. It's cheesy but it's true.

"Kindness in Action" As much as I want to be, I am not good with words. I am socially awkward, and I handle other people's emotions poorly. Despite my best efforts, I have more or less been that way, always. Yet, I try to show my kindness when I can. For example, It was my junior year and my friend Beatrice's Senior year. We were both in the musical Hadestown. Unfortunately our tech week (the most stressful week in any show) aligned with her interdisciplinary unit exam, a 2 hour, hand written in class essay. She was stressing about not knowing the curriculum enough for the IUE due to the vast majority of her time being dedicated to the show and so I offered to make her flashcards and quiz her backstage. My father thought this was ridiculous, as I also had my own stuff to do, but it was a nice bit of bonding and I thought that it was a good time. Similarly, this year one of my friends announced that she would be moving to Japan for the rest of the school year for an undisclosed reason. All we knew was that teachers had pulled her out of class to talk to her and that she had been weeping during 6th period. As I mentioned before, I'm not always sure how to read emotions, so I was trying to be especially careful not to pry. However, I didn't want to appear unaffectionate, and as such began bringing this friend food. I brought her swedish meatballs, quiche, buttercream porch pie, and many other things. It was only weeks after she left that she disclosed the reason for her departure: her mother had developed a form of cancer - harmless at its current state but expensive to remove. As such they flew to Japan to get it removed their since it was cheaper. "Boldly, Unapologetically Me" My experience defining my self worth has definitely had its ups and downs. I only found out I was gay in middle school, and it seemed like everyone knew before me. During middle school I began to invest a lot of queer media and began to feel more at home with myself, but in the process began to internalize a lot of stereotypes. I began to say "slay" a lot and act very feminine in nature. However, that wasn't who I was. I am not extroverted, girly, or sassy. I am calm, passive, quiet and homely. Those may sound like demeaning adjectives to some, but I enjoy a quiet life. Trying to fulfill the gay stereotype in middle school was anxiety inducing. Trying to behave a certain way to get people to like me caused me to view my self worth from the point of view of others. my self esteem was at an all time low. However, when I attended high school that all changed. It was a fresh start. Initially I still conformed to stereotypes, but as time went on I realized that no one cared how "gay" I was. They liked me for me. For my mild manner, my humor and my interests. How often I said "slay" didn't matter to them, or if I dressed girly. It's odd to look at photos of me in middle school, wearing dresses and posing femininely, then looking in the mirror now seeing how I dress like a grandpa. It really does reflect who I am, and reminds me that no one of any minority should be defined by the stereotypes perpetuated about them by the media.

In "Poetics" Aristotle discussed how theater aided the masses through catharsis - that being the feeling of emotional cleansing an audience member gets through observing a character and their actions. I love preforming, not only because it means I get to spend time with my friends, working towards a common goal, but because I get to connect to my character emotionally and achieve that catharsis. It's truly wonderful! I am a multi-talented person, and though I don't really like to toot my own horn, I feel as if now is the best time to. Not only do I sing and act, but I write plays, musicals, screenplays, and film music. Though a lot of my passion has to do with storytelling, acting is with me forever, and as such, I plan to act and write my own stories. I suppose I became inspired when - in fourth grade - I saw my school's production of Seussical. You best believe I was signed up to do there next show, and I haven't stopped doing theater since. As for past performances, I was Aladdin in Aladdin, Emmett Forrest in Legally Blond, Link Larkin in Hairspray, Ren in Footloose, Warbucks in Annie, and that was all before high school. In highschool I was featured ensemble in Catch Me if You Can, then they did Six which is an all female show, Hades in Hadestown, and Javert in Les Miserables. My favorites are definitely Javert and Hades. I seem to enjoy playing darker characters, probably on account of the catharsis it provides. For example, I was also costumer for Les Mis and I had a co. costumer who did nothing to help. There was even a point during a rehearsal when I had to go on stage and I asked them "could you possibly costume the wedding guests while I proforma my suicide" and they said "could you just get someone else to do it?" Needless to say it was infuriating. But when all is said and done I am a very passive guy, so I let it slide. Now, normally someone else might explode because of this. However, I had Javert on my side. His overly emotional and angry songs provided me a healthy canal to channel my anger into. It was an incredible relief to go on stage angry, preform my suicide with fury and vigor, and leave the stage feeling better than before. That healthy release of emotions is what I think theater is all about. Though spectacle and high notes are amazing, when it really boils down to the basics, theater is about feeling emotionally connected to the characters, just like Aristotle said. Though it may seem basic and/or obvious to some, that is why I love the theater. It is innately human.