Perhaps the greatest joy in my life is my four younger sisters, my best friends who hold my heart. But the greatest tragedy of my life cut so deep because it wounded those same hands. The last time I saw my brother, I was eleven and Knox was 2 months old. He was sleeping peacefully, swaddled in his blue blanket. I gave him a hug and jumped in the car with my dad until we got a call that changed my life forever: my brother was in the ambulance and the EMTs were trying to resuscitate him. As I tried to help my three younger siblings, give information to the police, and answer questions from our neighbors and grandparents while my parents were in the hospital, the peace of that last hug seemed tremendously distant. When my parents finally came back, there was nothing left to do but cry; not even the doctors knew why he died. For days we slept on the floor in our parent’s room, the sound of sniffling our lullabye for days. Two days after Knox died, I stopped breathing until my mom resuscitated me with CPR. Daddy sped through freeways for the second time in three days to rush to the hospital for his child. After hours of a needle in my arm and an EKG monitor plastered all over my chest I was returned to my pallet bed, thinking more than I ever had all while not thinking or feeling at all. After a while, warm sun beams fell through the window onto my cheek, kissing me awake to live another day. But the world in which I was living had changed forever for me: I had seen behind a curtain I will never see in the same way. Baby swings aren’t meant to stand still. Crib sheets aren’t meant to stay neat. I felt a profound indignation against the brokenness around me, and with it, a strange urgency to show love and faithfulness while I can. Not a desperation to rebel against death, but a hope of renewed purpose for life. Death had shown itself more cruel than we ever thought. But Life had proven to be more eternal, more powerful and more urgent than death could ever be. In the wake of Knox’s death and funeral, I questioned the purpose of academics. I wondered if we distracted ourselves with the order of our world because we were frightened of knowing nothing of the order of our lives. It was not until I read in an assigned biography of Abigail Adams how she also had lost children that I understood profoundly the depth of loss that the words on that page represented. I began to understand the value of education as preparation for the soul. Slowly, I came to realize that continuing to study stories, history and ideas throughout time and space allows us to see the common human experience and respond compassionately. As I prepare for my senior year at UC Davis, I am humbled and grateful for the opportunities I have been given to extend that love to others. It was a while after Knox’s death before I was at the hospital again. I looked down at a crying little girl: my brand new sister. In the face of her tiny cries, I beamed and kissed her joyfully. As I held Claire Joy, I thought of him more than ever. And I thought of the verse that gave her her middle name and the hope that it promises. “Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”

Perhaps the greatest joy in my life is my four younger sisters, my best friends who hold my heart. But the greatest tragedy of my life cut so deep because it wounded those same hands. The last time I saw my brother, I was eleven and Knox was 2 months old. He was sleeping peacefully, swaddled in his blue blanket. I gave him a hug and jumped in the car with my dad until we got a call that changed my life forever: my brother was in the ambulance and the EMTs were trying to resuscitate him. As I tried to help my three younger siblings, give information to the police, and answer questions from our neighbors and grandparents while my parents were in the hospital, the peace of that last hug seemed tremendously distant. When my parents finally came back, there was nothing left to do but cry; not even the doctors knew why he died. For days we slept on the floor in our parent’s room, the sound of sniffling our lullabye for days. Two days after Knox died, I stopped breathing until my mom resuscitated me with CPR. Daddy sped through freeways for the second time in three days to rush to the hospital for his child. After hours of a needle in my arm and an EKG monitor plastered all over my chest I was returned to my pallet bed, thinking more than I ever had all while not thinking or feeling at all. After a while, warm sun beams fell through the window onto my cheek, kissing me awake to live another day. But the world in which I was living had changed forever for me: I had seen behind a curtain I will never see in the same way. Baby swings aren’t meant to stand still. Crib sheets aren’t meant to stay neat. I felt a profound indignation against the brokenness around me, and with it, a strange urgency to show love and faithfulness while I can. Not a desperation to rebel against death, but a hope of renewed purpose for life. Death had shown itself more cruel than we ever thought. But Life had proven to be more eternal, more powerful and more urgent than death could ever be. In the wake of Knox’s death and funeral, I questioned the purpose of academics. I wondered if we distracted ourselves with the order of our world because we were frightened of knowing nothing of the order of our lives. It was not until I read in an assigned biography of Abigail Adams how she also had lost children that I understood profoundly the depth of loss that the words on that page represented. I began to understand the value of education as preparation for the soul. Slowly, I came to realize that continuing to study stories, history and ideas throughout time and space allows us to see the common human experience and respond compassionately. As I prepare for my senior year at UC Davis, I am humbled and grateful for the opportunities I have been given to extend that love to others. It was a while after Knox’s death before I was at the hospital again. I looked down at a crying little girl: my brand new sister. In the face of her tiny cries, I beamed and kissed her joyfully. As I held Claire Joy, I thought of him more than ever. And I thought of the verse that gave her her middle name and the hope that it promises. “Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”

"Making the Bed": Finding Strength in the Life I Have Built One of the Olivia Rodrigo lyrics that resonates most deeply with me comes from her song making the bed: "And every good thing has turned into something I dread, and I'm playing the victim so well in my head, but it's me who's been making the bed." These words speak to the responsibility that comes with pursuing your dreams and accepting both the rewards and challenges that follow. They connect strongly to my own journey as a student, a sister, and someone working toward a future career in law. As the oldest of five girls, I have always felt a sense of responsibility. I love my younger sisters, and many of my choices have been motivated by the desire to set a good example for them. Growing up, my family moved seventeen times, which meant constantly adapting to new places and new circumstances. Although those experiences taught me resilience, they also showed me that life rarely unfolds exactly as planned. Sometimes the things we work so hard for bring unexpected stress and pressure along with happiness. Now, as a student at UC Davis with plans to attend law school, I understand Olivia's lyrics in a new way. I have chosen an ambitious path because I want to challenge myself and create opportunities for my future. Yet pursuing those goals also means late nights studying, difficult classes, and moments of self-doubt. It can be tempting to blame circumstances or wish that life were easier. However, the lyric reminds me that many of the challenges I face are connected to dreams that I willingly chose because they matter to me. In a strange but empowering way, recognizing that I have "made the bed" means that I also have the power to keep building the life I want. What I admire about Olivia Rodrigo's music is her honesty. She captures emotions that many people experience but often struggle to express. Her songs acknowledge that growth is complicated. Success does not eliminate insecurity, and achieving goals does not mean that every moment will feel perfect. That perspective has helped me accept that feeling overwhelmed at times is not a sign that I have chosen the wrong path; it is simply part of striving for something meaningful. The lyric also reminds me to practice gratitude. The opportunities I have today—attending a university I love, pursuing a future in law, and supporting my sisters—are things I once hoped for. While these responsibilities can be difficult, they are ultimately blessings. Instead of viewing obstacles as evidence that I am failing, I try to see them as proof that I am growing and moving forward. Olivia Rodrigo's words resonate with my experience because they capture an important lesson about accountability and perseverance. My journey has included challenges, sacrifices, and uncertainty, but it has also brought tremendous joy and purpose. Like the lyric suggests, I am the one making my bed, and although that responsibility can feel heavy, it is also what gives me the freedom to create a future that reflects my values, ambitions, and love for the people who matter most to me.

More Than a Pop Star: Why Sabrina Carpenter Inspires Me I am a fan of Sabrina Carpenter because she represents the values that matter most to me: hard work, love for family, and bringing joy to the people around you. While I enjoy her music and performances, what truly inspires me is the example she sets through her dedication, her close relationship with her family, and her ability to laugh and make others laugh. Her career has impacted me because I see many of the same values reflected in my own life and aspirations. One of the things I admire most about Sabrina is her incredible work ethic. She began her career at a young age and spent years building her success through persistence and determination. She did not become a global pop star overnight. Instead, she continued writing, performing, and improving herself even when success was not guaranteed. Her journey reminds me that hard work is the foundation of every meaningful achievement. I relate to this deeply because I am currently working hard as a student at UC Davis, and my goal is to attend law school after graduation. Becoming an attorney has always been a dream of mine, and I know that reaching that goal will require years of dedication and perseverance. When I see Sabrina continue to push herself and grow throughout her career, it motivates me to stay focused on my own ambitions and trust that consistent effort will eventually pay off. Another reason I connect with Sabrina is her love for her family. She often speaks about her parents and sisters and has remained grounded despite her success. Family has always been the most important part of my life as well. I am the oldest of five girls, and I absolutely adore my four younger sisters. They are some of my favorite people in the world, and I love spending time with them, supporting them, and being someone they can look up to. Seeing Sabrina maintain those close family bonds reminds me that no matter how successful someone becomes, the people who love you and support you are what truly matter. I also admire Sabrina's sense of humor and her ability to bring laughter to others. Whether through her witty lyrics, playful personality, or interactions with fans, she radiates joy and authenticity. I connect with that because one of my favorite things to do is make the people around me laugh. I believe laughter brings people together, lightens difficult moments, and creates lasting memories. Even when life becomes stressful—whether in school, work, or personal challenges—I try to keep a positive attitude and bring happiness to those around me. Ultimately, I am a fan of Sabrina Carpenter because she represents much more than music. She embodies hard work, strong family values, and a joyful spirit that inspires others. Her career has impacted me by reinforcing the importance of pursuing my dreams, cherishing my four younger sisters, and never losing my sense of humor along the way. Those are values I hope to carry with me throughout my time at UC Davis, into law school, and throughout the rest of my life.

If I could create a brand new Love Island challenge, I would make them put on as many layers as possible, then run to the end of the pier and have to jump off. After that, they would get to swim in the ocean water and race back to the shore. Finally, the couples would have to build and make the best s’more, and the winning dessert would determine the champions. This challenge would test teamwork, endurance, creativity, and the ability to stay calm under pressure, making it both entertaining and hilarious for viewers. The challenge would be called “Layers, Leaps, and Sweet Treats.” It would take place at sunset on a beautiful beach, giving the event a fun summer atmosphere. The islanders would compete in couples, encouraging them to communicate and work together. The hosts would explain that the competition is divided into three stages, each requiring different skills. The team with the highest overall score at the end would win a special date night or another exciting reward. The first stage would focus on the layers. Each couple would have two minutes to put on as many clothing items as possible. The wardrobe station would include oversized shirts, jackets, sweaters, scarves, hats, socks, and even funny accessories like feather boas and costume glasses. The goal would be to create the most ridiculous outfits imaginable while still being able to move. Contestants would earn points based on how many layers they successfully wear. However, they would need to keep all the layers on during the next part of the challenge, making strategy just as important as speed. Once the timer ends, the second stage would begin. The couples would race down a long pier toward the ocean while wearing their enormous stacks of clothing. Watching contestants struggle to run in multiple sweaters and scarves would create plenty of comedic moments. At the end of the pier, both members of each couple would have to jump into the water together. Teamwork would be essential because neither person could continue unless both completed the jump. After entering the water, they would swim back to the shore as quickly as possible. The ocean portion would test endurance and determination, especially since the extra layers would make movement more difficult. Lifeguards and safety personnel would supervise the entire event to ensure that everyone remains safe and comfortable. The final stage would introduce a completely different challenge. After reaching the beach, the couples would remove their wet clothing and head to a s’mores station. Each team would receive graham crackers, chocolate, marshmallows, and a selection of creative ingredients such as peanut butter, caramel, fruit, or flavored chocolates. The couples would have fifteen minutes to create the most delicious and visually appealing s’more possible. Judges would score the desserts based on taste, originality, and presentation. This portion would allow contestants to show their personalities and creativity while also giving viewers a fun and lighthearted ending to the competition. Overall, “Layers, Leaps, and Sweet Treats” would be the perfect Love Island challenge because it combines physical activity, humor, teamwork, and imagination. The running and swimming sections would create exciting moments, while the s’more competition would encourage creativity and cooperation. Most importantly, the challenge would reveal which couples can support one another through ridiculous situations and still have fun together. In a show that celebrates relationships and entertainment, this would be a memorable event that both contestants and viewers would never forget.

A Maiden under the Magnifying Glass: A close reading of Penelope's Loom What makes a female character a hero or a villain? How can one tell without the sweeping scenes of fiery scales reflecting off chain mail, set on the rolling lawns of castles with dungeons? While Odysseus's feats of bravery are clearly defined in the epic of his travels, Queen Penelope's role is less observed. What makes her rise from an ordinary figure in the Odyssey to a hero? Heroism can be determined by the help or harm a person causes to goodness, especially by noting what a woman’s heart clings to and what her might is applied to. Heroes and villains are marked by their impact on others while they serve or battle that Good, greater than which cannot be conceived. A character who is a villain is marked by their deterrence of goodness, truth, and beauty, in effect, creating a wall in the journey towards righteousness. By contrast, heroism swings wide the door to goodness both by seeking it individually and helping others to pursue the same goal. Heroes serve as doors along the path of righteousness, goodness and joy, while villains act as walls, deterring that aim. A hallmark of a hero, male or female, is might: what a person applies themselves to is ultimately what matters, and both the means and ends of a woman’s life prove the score of her valor. The culmination of a character, namely the deeds they have to show at the end of their life, reveal much about the recipients of their attention or lack thereof. Equally important are the smaller choices they face from day to day that write the stories of their lives and add up to great accomplishments. Queen Penelope loved her family by using her might to protect her household and put off violence until the appropriate time, demonstrating wisdom and discernment. Despite having friends and foes, children and murderers dwelling in her house, Penelope prudently kept the peace with all until her husband returned, all while not ever condoning the wrongdoing under her roof. Rather than choosing to stir up strife, she cunningly postponed the day of the suitors' judgment in assistance of her and her son’s vindication rather than destruction. In the absence of her husband, Penelope devised numerous ways of holding off the suitors until Odysseus would return to rescue her and Telemachus. The clearest example of her wisdom is her famous loom trick: She had her great loom standing in the hall And the fine warp of some vast fabric on it; we were attending her, and she said to us: ‘Young men, my suitors, now my lord is dead, let me finish my weaving before I marry, Or else my thread will have been spun in vain.’ So every day she wove on the great loom— But every night by torchlight she unwove it; and so for three years she deceived the Akhaians. This passage reveals Penelope’s heroism through Homer’s portrayal of weaving as a form of righteous strength. The suitors themselves call it “trickery,” yet the word carries none of the selfishness associated with deceit for personal gain. Rather, Penelope employs cunning in the service of justice, preserving the household that rightfully belongs to Odysseus and Telemachus. Her intelligence mirrors the resourcefulness for which Odysseus himself is famous, suggesting that husband and wife are united not only in affection but also in virtue and wisdom. The imagery of the loom further emphasizes Penelope’s role as the guardian of order. Weaving traditionally symbolizes creation, continuity, and domestic stewardship. By weaving during the day and undoing her work at night, Penelope suspends time itself, refusing to allow the unlawful claims of the suitors to become permanent reality. Her nightly unraveling becomes an act of resistance. She preserves the memory and authority of her absent husband while protecting the inheritance of her son. What appears to be an ordinary domestic task is transformed into a quiet battle for justice. The passage also demonstrates that true might does not always reveal itself through physical force. Penelope possesses no army and cannot openly challenge the men occupying her home, yet she successfully frustrates them for three years. Homer presents wisdom as a form of power equal to strength of arms. Penelope's victory lies in her ability to preserve peace without surrendering to evil. Her restraint prevents needless bloodshed until the rightful king returns to restore order. In this way, her cleverness serves goodness rather than ambition. Knowing the suitors could hardly refuse her request to lay her father-in-law in peace before celebrating her marriage with one of them, Penelope employed discernment to gain time and protect her family. When violence was neither possible nor prudent, she relied upon wisdom. The application of Penelope’s might to save herself and her son until the return of her husband was guided by righteousness and used to attain goodness, peace, and joy for those under her care. Her actions opened a door to restoration rather than destruction. Penelope takes her place as a literary woman, not characterized by idleness, but the personification of wisdom or foolishness, as in the Proverbs of old. Laying the foundation upon which friends and family are directed in their journey, she becomes a standard of defending goodness, opposing evil and sacrificing self for others. Penelope stands as a model of heroic womanhood through the outpouring of her heart and the dedication of her might. By treasuring her family and wisely employing her gifts, she aided those she loved in the noble pursuit of justice, her life opening a door which enabled the search for strength beyond self.

My four younger sisters and I are absolute best friends, and though our house is loud, it is constantly filled with love and laughter. I think Kalia would have fit right in. Because I’m usually the one who makes the jokes in our house, I think Kalia and I would have had an especially great time together. Growing up we had such a loving home life that we wanted to pass what we could on. When I was 7, we became a host family for a short term foster care program, Safe Families. Over the next few years we had about 11 children stay with us for varying amounts of time. I learned to love strangers from completely different worlds than me like my own siblings and cried bitterly when they had to leave. When I was 11, I cried again for my brother, who died of SIDS. It marked a turning point in all of our lives, revealing the shortness of life and the need to redeem the time. Moving seven times over the next six years, I learned resilience and adaptability. I jumped into community wherever I was transplanted and am so thankful for friends I will always cherish from sea to shining sea. In 10th grade I competed in Track and Field, lettering and making lasting memories. Unfortunately, recurring mono which worsened after each meet and practice kept me from returning the next season. Instead, I began dual enrollment, staying involved in my youth group and helping with Sunday school at church while I got associate degrees in Business and Economics. Learning my limitations both physically and emotionally was humbling especially when it felt like we would never stop moving, or I would always be sick. But I am so grateful to have started learning a balance early between ambition and contentment. When I graduated high school a semester early, I decided to travel to Indonesia for a spring to intern for a cultural tourism business. The village I lived in has a population of about 1,120 people and is one of the most impoverished regions in the country. I learned some Indonesian from my roommate and regularly visited with the people in the village, assisting in community outreach events. Arriving in the midst of a tuberculosis epidemic, with 7 people dying within the first 10 days of my arrival, I visited a 25 year old man on his deathbed and went to more funerals than housewarmings or weddings. Again, I felt the urgency and reality of death all around me, a spurring onward to live with purpose. When I returned from Indonesia, we made one last move from Santa Cruz to Folsom and I am now 19, completing my junior year at UC Davis. It would be a privilege and an honor to be considered for this scholarship. If I was chosen, I would use the money to help pay for tuition, as working two jobs while commuting to school is difficult with my health. I know that it is by grace alone that I can look forward to applying to law school this fall, meeting each new day with hard work and hope. I hope to use my degree to be an advocate for others, especially children, through either family law or prosecution. I hope it will better equip me to live a life of purpose, loving and serving others with all my heart and might. What excites me most though, about the rest of my life, is the love of friendships I’ve already made and the joy of all those yet to come.

An Education in Empathy The last time I saw my brother, I was eleven and Knox was 2 months old. He was sleeping peacefully, swaddled in his blue blanket. I gave him a hug and jumped in the car with my dad until we got a call that changed my life forever: my brother was in the ambulance and the EMTs were trying to resuscitate him. Two days later, I passed out with a high fever, and my mom had to do CPR until I began to breathe again. I laid unmoving on the emergency bed for hours, dazed from the upheaval that had penetrated my life. Our homeschool was at a complete halt for a while and when we started again, school was scattered. In the wake of Knox’s death and funeral, I questioned the purpose of academics. Intellectual pursuit felt so superfluous in the face of all else, which felt so real. A book seemed a silly tool in the valley of the shadow of death. But one day, I read in a biography that Abigail Adams had lost a baby. Reading with opened eyes, I understood profoundly the depth of loss that the words on that page represented. Slowly, I began to understand the value of education as preparation for the soul. And I came to realize that continuing to study stories, history and ideas throughout time and space allows us to see the common human experience and respond compassionately. When I was 16 I was diagnosed with recurring mononucleosis which lead to Chronic Fatigue and POTS, and new issues continue to unfurl as I deal with Immune Disorder Syndrome. but despite almost every day being a fight against weakness and exhaustion, I am finishing up my junior year at UC Davis and applying to law school. My hope is that higher education will better equip me to turn empathy into action and I can become an advocate for others. This scholarship would make a tremendous impact on alleviating some of the financial burden of paying for school on my own, allowing more rest for my health conditions. As I continue to learn resilience and determination with each new challenge, I am hopeful that the character which is built in me in my weakness will allow me to better serve others.