As a kid, I excelled in school. I completed my schoolwork on time and studied because that is what I believed I was meant to do. My parents often called my schooling "my job," and even more often encouraged me to work hard to get good grades. While I performed well on tests and report cards, I never understood my friends who were excited to go to school. For me, it was a chore, and as my parents said: it was my job. Why should I have been excited to go to school when my job was to memorize information I would be given in class? Well, there was more to schooling than I had thought, and I learned that in my freshman year. In freshman year I took AP Computer Science. I took the course because I wanted to obtain as many credits as possible to get a head start in college. A week into class, however, my reason for taking the course changed. Instead of just memorizing information, I was putting knowledge into practice. For every concept my teacher taught me, I felt as if I was exercising a new skill rather than memorizing lectures for my next test. I was having fun and developed a genuine passion for the material I was learning. As an artist, I also saw computer science as a gateway for using art in a new medium. Often I would be consumed with drawing characters to code them into the worlds I was creating. Simple visual novels and pixel adventure games guided me through class and even further guided me toward the career path I wanted to follow. Now, I am nearly obsessed with learning everything there is to know about coding and computer science. The concept of never knowing it all is exciting to me: as our world continues to innovate, so will computers, and so will the things we can make with them. I cannot imagine my future without the passion I hold for this science, and the hope that I hold for the amazing future computers can create. My dad is a disabled veteran and continues to encourage me to keep learning about computer science. He, like many military parents, is absent for a portion of my childhood memories. I've come to terms with the fact that to provide for our family he was not able to be as present as he wanted to be. As a kid, the most common phrases I would hear from him were "work hard," and "stay in school." He wanted me to build a solid foundation of education so I would not have to sacrifice family time with work when I became an adult. When I told him I was going to college for a computer science degree, he was overjoyed. "You're going to make so much money!" he said. And, while I am in this field to create, I am happy that he feels secure in my future. I hope he knows that his sacrifices were not in vain and I will forever be doing what I love no matter what. Learning, coding, and creating.

The final day of life is excruciating. The taking home. The bandaged hands. Fingers linger on fingers before you let me hold your hand. There is no use for boundaries now. Walls come down. My love pools at the bottom of your bowl. The minute by the microwave is excruciating, but the machine is ready soon enough. I pour the soup out with a ladle. Rushing, but not spilling, I make sure you are fed. I hope to God my love pools inside you, too. You say something about the soup being warm, and I can't help but smile. I know it is. I know it is. Death is a snowstorm. It waits for you outside of our home. I am unable to give you a jacket or mittens. There are no blankets and no fires. But I can give you soup. Warm, filling soup. When you leave my loving arms, I can only hope that you leave fed.

Hedy Lamarr was a gorgeous actress and inventor in the 1940s. Her mind was always pointed toward the future, and more specifically, how to improve it. She invented what we know now as "WiFi" along with the basis of GPS and Bluetooth technology. She and her inventions inspire me because not only can I relate to her as a woman in a male-dominated field, but the influence that WiFi has had on the modern world is nothing short of amazing. It has spurred more connections between people, more information stored than ever before, and more possibilities for how far technology can go. Frequencies jumping rapidly between mechanical devices in order to share information would have been considered magic in the past, but it is now a modern reality. That is what is so special about WiFi to me. It has made me believe that the world as we know it can be changed for the better at any second. "Magic" can be as real as our invisible technologies. I believe that curiosity is the key to inventions like these: if we let ourselves question what we believe is impossible, maybe we will realize that with technology, nothing is impossible. Hedy Lamarr once said: "Hope and curiosity about the future seem better than guarantees." She is right about this. If we as a society only rely on what is guaranteed, or what we already have, then we will find ourselves making no improvements to the future. WiFi has opened so many doors for humanity. Humans can contact one another with ease. We can share information and keep in touch with our loved ones. I believe that technology is a force of good and a force of love. In the future, technology will be used to bring us closer as a society in order to heal and comfort humanity. But this cannot be done if we believe that the "impossible" exists. We must try to achieve the impossible-- and create what was once magic. The only way to do this is through invention. That is why I believe that through technology, a better world will be created.

Sometimes it is too hard to change your life alone. And when you're young, it's even harder: you have no power, no money, and no resources. It can seem hopeless living in a life you are unsatisfied with, especially if you are trapped in an abusive situation. What a dog provides is an unconditional love that cannot be rivaled. A dog can teach you that no matter what you've been through, you deserve to feel safe and loved. My dog's name is Cody. He is a huge, old, and slobbery, American Bulldog. He has been in my life since I was in middle school, and although his joints have gone creaky and his fur has started to grey, he has maintained his deep loyalty and love to me. When I was fifteen, my dad finally retired from the U.S. military. A time that was meant to be joyous turned dark, though, as a lack of routine drove my dad to alcoholism. He became abusive. It broke my heart to have a life I felt safe in only to be forced into a fearful, weak state. I felt too young to be carrying the pain I had. But Cody understood what was going on. He felt me and my mother's pain, and he knew we were hurting. When I would sleep in my bed, cold and alone, Cody would sneak out from my father's room where he was meant to sleep in order to lay by my side. His steps were quiet despite his size-- he knew how much he needed to be there for me but how horrible the consequences would be if he was caught. So, we slept side by side each night, me laying on my side and him curled into a huge ball. Unfortunately, one night my dad attacked my mom. Pots and pans were thrown. Clashing, crashing sounds of metal hit the walls and all I could hear were screams. Cody was barking in a defensive position. My dad told him to shut up and threw a pan at him, too. He grabbed my mom by her wrist and started shaking. I watched from the couch and then I heard another scream. Cody ran to my room with blood around his mouth and I looked to see that the top half of my dad's middle finger was missing. My dad ran out of the house and I ran to my room. Cody was hiding under my bed: bloody and scared. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He loved his family so much. I knew that people would think he was dangerous after this, but I didn't care. I wiped the blood off of his face and pet his head as he fell asleep. My dad stayed around a few years after that, but eventually, him and my mom divorced and I finally felt free. Cody lives with us and no longer has to deal with the physical and emotional abuse of my father. In a way, he comforts me even more because he knows what I have gone through. I can relate to him more than anyone else and cherish our bond. Without him, I don't know if I could ever feel normal again. But I do feel normal now. And I feel safe. I have been there for him ever since he was a puppy, and although he will not make it to my final days, I know that my love for him will go on and on.

A dog will be there for you when no one else will. In our society we are plagued with an overabundance of information. Politics, war, debt, struggle, poverty, discrimination... Every day, no matter where you are, there is a near guarantee that the daily stresses of life with find you. At times, the feeling is crushing. We are mean to one another. Our support is conditional; we feel as if we cannot afford to help one another as our own lives offer no room for compassion. But a dog does not feel this way. A dog does not have a job, and a dog does not read the news. A dog that has been raised well will know little of struggle, regret, or pain, and in that I find comfort. Because of this, a dog's compassion is unlike any another. They love just like us with little expectation, and they only wish to be loved in return. Dog's make it easy to love them, too. Every dog misbehaves, sure, but it does not come from a place of malice. Dogs are constantly learning, like children. They are sweet and curious creatures that make it impossible not to love them. They wait for you when you're away at school and work. Their ears perk up at your voice. They are excited to see you happy and want to help you when you are sad. I know this because I have a very special dog in my life. His name is Cody. He is a huge, old, slobbery, American Bulldog. He has been in my life since I was in middle school, and although his joints have gone creaky and his fur has started to grey, he has a deep love for me and my family. When I was fifteen, my dad finally retired. A time that was meant to be joyous turned dark, though, as a lack of routine drove my dad to relying on alcohol. He became abusive. I felt too young to be going through the pain I had. But Cody understood what was going on. He felt me and my mother's pain; he knew we were hurting. When I would sleep in my bed, cold and alone, Cody would sneak out from my father's room where he was meant to sleep in order to lay by my side. His steps were quiet despite his size-- he knew how much he needed to be there for me but how horrible the consequences would be if he was caught. So, we slept side by side each night, me laying on my side and him curled into a huge ball. Unfortunately, my dad attacked my mom. Throwing pans. Screaming. Loud, loud, loud. Cody was barking; it sounded like a roar. My dad told him to shut up; threw a pan at him, too. Grabbed my mom by her wrist and started shaking. I watched from the couch and then I heard a scream. Cody ran to my room with blood around his mouth and I looked to see that the top half of my dad's middle finger was missing. My dad ran out of the house and I ran to my room. Cody was hiding under my bed: bloody and scared. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He loved his family so much. I knew that people would think he was dangerous after this, but I didn't care. I wiped the blood off of his face and pet his head as he fell asleep. He will always be my good boy: the dog that will always protect me.

I am interested in the development of cyber security. Every day, our lives count on the safety of technology. Each website, each page, each article... as we walk through the vast community that is the internet, we leave behind digital footprints that not many can see. But some do see them. It is a fact of life that many are interested in finding and selling our information for their own gain. After I learned about the Equifax breaches in my finance class, I realized how important cyber security is in everyday life. Unfortunately, in every corner of the internet, dangerous people are waiting to attack. I want to be the one who builds walls between citizens and the attackers. I want to make these important services more competent, and allow users to feel safe when they use the internet. For something that has become a staple of modern society, its users should feel confident logging in. Along with security, I am immensely interested in building a community in tech. I want my coworkers and fellow students to feel as if they are a piece of the puzzle rather than a cog in the huge, ineffable concept of technology. Only 19% of all STEM degrees have been earned by women, so it is easy to say that being a woman in cybersecurity is isolating. Tech can benefit a lot from women: for example, did you know that Google’s “Siri” and “Alexa” have female voices because both sexes are more willing to listen to one? Wired reports that, “In a 2011 study, participants listened to both male and female voices, and both [sexes] said the woman's voice was warmer,” and easier to accept commands from. My gender not only promotes diversity in the workplace, something every woman in tech can value, but also allows for a conversation about community. Helping one another is the base of keeping the internet a safe place to be. "The single raindrop never feels responsible for the flood." - Douglas Adams. Sometimes our dreams can seem too small, but just like a raindrop, if one woman can inspire another, then eventually a world where a woman can be in tech without discrimination can be achieved. During my time studying for my computer science degree, I want to focus on finding likeminded women who are interested in inspiring others. With help, I believe that the disproportionate rate of women in STEM can take one step forward in being "solved."

My future is something I value immensely, and part of planning for my future is figuring out how I will handle my finances. I think that the most prominent financial issue of young adults such as myself is that oftentimes we do not think before we buy. Our experience with money is limited but our want for new clothes, fast food, and freedom is immense. This isn't to say that having a little "fun money" isn't possible, rather that we must have structure when we indulge ourselves. The 50/30/20 rule has helped me the most when saving and spending my money. 50% of my money is used for needs, 30% for wants, and 20% for savings. Not only does this system set up an effective savings plan and ensure that all monthly variables are taken care of, but it also encourages spending money on yourself after you have earned it. It is a false belief that saving money means you are not allowed to enjoy the fruits of your labor, and instead it must all go into a closed bank account. I think that is the reason many people at my age are negligent in their savings: saving is seen as a burden, or something that takes away the possibility of fun. As seen in the 50/30/20 method, only 20% of your monthly income needs to go to savings. That is both a reasonable number and an exciting one; you aren't expecting such a low percentage to build up over time, but it does, and in the end you have a financial cushion to fall back on. This is the most important financial lesson I have learned because it creates a realistic view on what spending should look like.

Information technology is the future. Each day we walk towards a more digitized world. Our music, our favorite shows, even many people’s livelihoods rest entirely on an online presence. Working in computer science is my passion because it’s like working with a huge puzzle. It’s frustrating, sure, but you know deep down that there is a solution and you just have to keep building towards it. Beyond that, I know that this puzzle has a lot of people depending on it. My personal impact within IT would be to emphasize the importance of what we do. Not only are we creating and maintaining the technology of the future, but we are ensuring that the world can rely on said technology and count on it to pull through on these promises. I want my coworkers to feel like they are a piece of the puzzle rather than a cog in the huge, ineffable concept of technology. My identity as a woman brings a lot to the table. Did you know that Google’s “Siri” and “Alexa” have female voices because both sexes are more willing to listen to one? That’s right! Wired reports that, “In a 2011 study, participants listened to both male and female voices, and both [sexes] said the woman's voice was warmer,” and easier to accept commands from. My gender not only promotes gender diversity in the workplace, something every woman in STEM can value, but also allows for an easier conversation when inspiring belonging in IT. We as women are stereotyped to be docile, submissive, and easy to control. But as studies show, that isn’t the case at all. We have only been manipulated into believing that our voices have no power, but between the sexes in the workplace, our voice holds the control, and I am proud to admit that I will not abuse this power; I will use our influence to promote equality and community. My passion in community, equality, and problem solving comes from experiences in my youth. Far too many times would I be forced to swallow my womanhood in order to fit in. Femininity has never been seen as "cool," rather it is seen as a weakness to be ashamed of. But I disagree, and although it has taken me a long time to unlearn, I now feel comfortable enough to live as an unfiltered feminine woman. When I was young, I did not intend to pursue intellectual careers or hobbies. I even dreamed about becoming a secretary; that was the most respectable job I could imagine myself having. But as I grew, I become interested in art, writing, and the piano. Computer science entered my vision through these interests. I was, and still am, obsessed with telling stories. I became interested in video games and realized that many of the skills I possessed already were involved in game making (art, plot, and music.) The only puzzle piece I was missing was the ability to code. So, naturally, I pursued it. Now that I have grown, my interests in computer science have matured. My need for community has spurred me further and I have a deep desire to encourage other women to pursue STEM fields. When intelligent women band together, the world can be changed. And in this case, when women aren't pursuing STEM, the backbone of our future, the world suffers as a result.

"Small happiness is the same as big happiness." Does that make any sense? If not, I would understand, it was my friend who told me that in my Freshman year of high school. I was going through a rough time. My parents were on the brink of divorce, my self-esteem had plummeted, and somehow I had become the unluckiest person I knew. It was as if nothing in my life could go right, and I obsessed over this observation every day of my young life. I was confiding in my friend Emma at a park after school. We were on the swings, completely alone as I poured my feelings out to her. From what I knew, she lived in a big house with functional parents; I didn't expect her to relate to me. But when I told her what I was going through, and explained the deep depression I found myself in, she gained a somber look in her eyes and stared at the ground. "Small happiness is the same as big happiness," she said. I didn't know what that meant. "Today sucked," she started, "But you're letting these small negative incidents ruin your perception of your life. Just because you aren't leaving the house and winning the lottery doesn't mean that there's nothing to smile about. Today you're going to go home and pet your dog and be happy about it whether you realize it or not. It's appreciating your happiness that gives it value, and that can make any bad day into a good one." We were kids at the time, but no other human being I've ever met has surpassed that level of wisdom. I still think about it when I pet my dog, and she's right, it can make any bad day into a good one.

I was thirteen years old when I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. At the time, I didn't know how young I was; I didn't realize how horrifying it was to be a child idolizing suicide and self-harm. But now that I have begun to move on from my past, I realize how valuable my own life is, and am willing to talk about what I have been through. My issues stem from my abusive father. He abused me both physically and emotionally. The abuse I faced caused me to feel empty every day with no outlet for release. I was confused and young. Deep down, all I wanted was to be loved. The situation I was born into deprived me of the love necessary to grow and thus I became jaded and depressed. At that age, I did not value my life or relationships at all. Hanging out with friends meant nothing to me. Every smile of mine was fake; I was more obsessed with portraying an image of a happy girl than living as who I truly was. But I couldn't live as who I was, because who I was was a soul-sucking, unfun, grey blob of a human being. I couldn't bear to burden the people in my life I claimed to care nothing about. So, in the end, I wore a mask of happiness, one that everyone knew I was faking, and like a clown, my false happiness disturbed my loved ones and caused them to leave me one by one. All I could think was, "It's my fault. I am not good enough. I am not happy enough." I thought I had to pretend harder to make people want me again. I could not believe that anyone could love me if I was depressed. But that wasn't the problem. Part of the reason I lost so many friends is that I could not see the love that was everywhere in my life. I couldn't get through a single conversation without entertaining my own mask, seeing how far I could take my false happiness, and subconsciously ignoring my conversation partners entirely in fits of self-obsessed self-hatred. What woke me up was brutal honesty. A friend of mine sat me down and told me that I was unbearable to be around. He said that ignoring my friends in favor of hating myself was ruining my relationships. He said he wanted me to improve; to love myself, and to release the tight grip I held on my issues. It is not that I needed to "forget" about my trauma, rather he pointed out that I viewed the idea of happiness as scarier than staying in within it. His words cut me deeply. Because no one told me I was negatively affecting them, I was perfectly content in wallowing on and on with no repercussions. But there were repercussions; repercussions in awkward conversations I failed to notice, failing friendships I neglected to care about, and a failing sense of self that dwindled more and more every day. I was losing everything and letting it happen, but my friend's raw honesty told me that I needed help. I started going to therapy. There is no easy way to recover. Further than that, there is no easy way to describe recovery. I felt like my body was ripping itself in two: one half wanted desperately to heal while the other clung to the security that was my trauma. What kept me going is the knowledge that I did not want my life to end; I wanted my life as I knew it to end. When I pictured my perfect life, one that I wanted to achieve, I saw friends, family, movie nights, driving my first car, and going on my first date. My sadness only encouraged a need for these things. I needed to know what it felt like to be alive and was willing to push forward in order to reach my goal. I can remember when I first noticed my own healing: for the first time, I didn't feel the need to wear a mask of happiness in front of my friends, and instead could produce my own happiness no matter how fleeting it was. I realized that recognizing others' love for me made me value my relationships more. Rather than a chore, friendship started to feel... fun. It felt real and earned its place in my life. Around this time I began to develop passions. I failed to be passionate about anything for the majority of my life, but ever so slowly I started to dream. I wanted to work in computer science, create art, and play the piano. My goals are especially important to me because they signify independence which is hard to achieve with depression. When one is depressed, it is easier to live vicariously through others rather than develop skills or passions yourself. My goals were a clear indication that I had improved my mental health, and "alone time" became less scary and more of a privilege to enjoy my own company. But the most important part of my journey through healing has been realizing to appreciate everything that I am given. Not just material items; what helped me heal the most was realizing that each aspect of the world was connected to one another. A warm day was just as valuable as a promotion at work. Petting my dog created a similar happiness to winning the lottery. Oftentimes humanity will carve out our emotions into "big" and "small", but undermining the infinite pool of experiences we have every day is no way to enjoy life. Rather, appreciating everything we are given, from a blade of grass to a huge accomplishment, is key to remembering why we are alive.

When I consider taking up a hobby, its ability to tell a story is the first thing on my mind. Art and writing both possess the storytelling that I have been obsessed with since I was a child. I found a love for art in middle school through animation. Disney's "Princess and The Frog" brought a unique art and animation style that inspired me. Around that same time, I began to watch anime (a Japanese style of animation that focuses on storytelling through art) and mimicked the style via tracing images on my phone. Later, I studied anatomy and surpassed the pieces my mom would put on the fridge. Through just black lines and splashes of color, my feelings are given a tangible form-- one that tells a story of my own. Even though I love art, writing is my true passion in life. Once I became skilled enough at drawing to pursue new hobbies, I found a place in my literature classes at school. I remember when my love for writing began: I turned in a narrative essay that I was assigned and my teacher looked back at me with pride. She asked me if I would volunteer to have my work read to the class. I obliged, so she stood up, and began to read. I was in awe! The way she read my work was as if she had read my writing every day for years. When she finished, I had a piercing internal silence. With my paper in her hand, she told me she was proud of me. At that moment I knew that storytelling was my calling. If there was any way I could conjure feelings through my hobbies, I would pursue it. And here I am, pursuing my art and writing each day.

As a bisexual woman, “Call Me By Your Name,” by Lil’ Nas X is an integral part of my life in music. Many may think that as a rapper, Lil’ Nas X cannot make heartfelt, impactful music, but in truth, “Call Me By Your Name” is a literary confession of the rapper himself. Lil’ Nas has experienced great homophobia towards his identity, and as a result developed internalized homophobia that made him hate who he was. But through the song, and more specifically shown throughout the music video, he reclaims the harmful stereotypes and phrases commonly said to the LGBT community. For example, “you will go to hell.” Like me, Lil’ Nas faced religious guilt from christianity from a young age. During the song, he happily descends to this “hell” that he has been forsaken to for being gay, almost as if he is rebelling against those who doubted him, saying that their threats will not get to him. This is important to me because I have heard the exact same phrases and experienced the same hate speech. It inspires me because if someone such as him, who grew up in an older, less educated time and only had the courage to come out in adulthood, can reclaim the pain that he has harbored, then maybe I can, too. “Call Me By Your Name” is a love note towards Lil’ Nas himself as well as a one for every gay or marginalized listener that comes across the song. It is ultimately important in encouraging breaking out of oppression and even further reclaiming the hate we have been given. If we fail to fight against what hurts us, then we will never break free, and the “hell” that is promised will only be given through internal agony rather than eternal punishment.

I was thirteen years old when I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. At the time, I didn't know how young I was; I didn't realize how horrifying it was to be a child idolizing suicide, self harm, and other unhealthy practices. I felt this way in every aspect of my life-- and even still, I can still feel the scars of my past. My dad was abusive, my mom rarely had money to take care of me and my sister, and my friends were leaving me one by one. Deep down, all I wanted was to be loved. I had pushed off therapy for a long time. The "tough it out" attitude that has been ingrained in society is infectious, and I was a victim of it for a long time. But eventually, at the end of my rope, I caved in and went. I can't say exactly how I broke out of my darkest days, but I can say that it has given me a new perspective on life. Part of the reason I lost so many friends in the wake of my depression is because I could no longer see the love that was everywhere in my life. I couldn't get through a single conversation without soaking it in self hatred, effectively making my conversation partners upset. But... I still have sympathy for my past self and others in similar situations. I think part of de-stigmatizing mental illness is open, honest communication. Part of what helped me "get it together" involved an open conversation where my friends confronted me over my attitude. They said that my constant, oppressive sadness was hard to be around, and that although they love me, they must ask me to try resolving my issues rather than forever seeking their validation. That is the second part of destigmatizing mental illness: accountability. It is no secret that having a friend struggling with mental health can be draining, and at times you may suck up their emotions like a leech. For me, taking accountability for my own emotions instead of forcing others to baby me was the first step to becoming more functional. This is the core of my beliefs: I believe that we as a human race should care and love one another, but still be able to stand on our own two feet when we must. Once I became more functional, I began to be able to have dreams that involved standing on my own. I wanted to act like someone my age. I wanted to date, to have fun, to study for a hard test... I wanted to have friends who felt comfortable around me. My experience with depression has only made me value human experiences such as these more. I realize now that if a loved one of mine committed suicide I would never be able to recover. And so, I value my loved ones lives every day, and am eternally grateful in their presence. And I value my own life, too! In the future, I want to become a computer scientist. As I said before, I did not grow up with much money. I find immense passion in coding and hope to find wealth there, too, and am willing to put the work in to get it. The aspirations I've cultivated make me value myself even more. All in all, my need to destigmatize mental health stems from my need to encourage mentally ill people to exist without feeling like a victim to their own head. We are stronger than our thoughts, and stronger than what festers inside us.

1. To me, community is security. Community is the soft pillow that you can fall back on when you trip, and the blanket that is wrapped around you when you cry. It is an inherit warmth that comes with having a family given at birth regardless of blood relation. When my dad left, my mom was left with only a single income and two kids to take care of. Fortunately though, we weren't left alone. The neighbors would drop by and deliver "care packages" full of food and clothes for me and my sister to enjoy. The high-school close to my house gave out similar care packages for the entire summer. Me and my sister hated the taste of school food, but mom brought them home anyway, and we were never left with an empty plate. But how could I cope with this immense love in my chest, bursting and grappling for a chance to give back to those who had taken care of me for so long? Well... I am not strong, and I have no money to give to others. I have no resources, and not even a car to volunteer. So, I decided I would be a "big sister" figure for my community. Tutoring, helping with chores, and babysitting. I've realized that the most important part of a successful community is to have multiple people filling out different jobs as a family. So, while the mothers raise the children, the fathers work hard labor, the children play and try their best to learn, and I do my big sisterly duties. Emotionally, I take care of the children when their parents are away. I teach them how to clean and take care of themselves, and take pride in my work. I want to be a role model in my entirety. 2. As for me, I have always seen myself as an ambitious individual. I am interested in writing, art, and computer science. My goal in life is to have enough money to be able to take care of a family far away from struggle and worry. I never want my loved ones to have to suffer, entirely stifled in their creativity because they only have enough energy to survive. I have experience with that. As a creative myself, I know how draining being low income is. It sucks out your soul and you have to pretend you aren't crumbling because then people won't think you're trying hard enough. But you know that you're trying your best, and are embarrassed that "this" is what your best looks like... For the future, I want the world to be unembarrassed of what their best looks like, and when we as humans struggle, I no longer want it to be shameful to reach out for help no matter the circumstance. I only want the human race to treat each other as family rather than competition or as someone to impress. We all deserve to exist as we are.

While it is hard to choose what my favorite hobby is, writing has always left a soft spot in my heart. From poems, short stories, novels (if I ever finish one…) each and every form of writing has only propelled my love for it further. The reason I got into writing was because of my 8th grade english teacher Mrs. Ogelsby. We were given an assignment in which we were tasked with “finishing” a short story that ended on a cliff hanger. Now, I can’t remember the original story or even what I wrote about, but I do remember when my teacher took my paper from my hands and began to read it aloud. The way she read each line was like she was reading a script straight from my brain. She would pause in the right places, and read my characters’ dialogue in such a way that made it feel real. When she finished, she clapped for me. She said that I had real, raw talent, and I believed her with my entire heart. I had to know how far this skill could go. So, I began with poems. As soon as I learned that a poem could be about anything I wanted I was set on making as many as I could. Some would consist of only three lines while others would fill notebooks worth of words. I was a young teen at the time, so you can only imagine the emotion in which I wrote… “Milk and honey, the sweetest drink, tastes bitter in my mouth when it is you I think. If I made a glass and I changed your taste new, maybe milk and honey would pale against me, too. But once I did you scoffed and threw the glass of milk and honey I had poured for you, yelling at me for such a bitter treat, when I only wanted you to see me as sweet.” This was one of the first poems I wrote. I was deeply in love for most of my teenage years and thus all my writing came out drenched in sugar and teenage hormones. Writing for me up to this point had been purely to exercise expressing emotions I didn’t know what to do with. But as I developed further, and as my teenage fantasies mellowed, I developed an interest in writing thriller. It was then that I realized that because of my newfound grasp on my own emotions, I could now focus on projecting those emotions to others. Not only through fear, but also through emotions such as love, compassion, and the general belonging that comes with a good story. So why thriller? As I said before, writing to me has become a way to express myself while also allowing my readers to feel what I feel, and what is a stronger emotion that comes with the stakes of the thrill? I simply feel too many emotions not to write them down.

1. Every day I wake up and I choose to live. Not just live as in survive, but live as in truly taking in each waking moment. I watch movies, I draw, I play piano… and I code, of course. I think what motivates me most is the existence of boredom. I can’t sit still! I truly believe that if I sat still for even a moment— that moment being a moment spent not working, not improving, and not resting or enjoying life— it would be so out of character I would explode. This dislike of boredom came from my mom, who is similar in the way that she just can’t sit still. I admire her more than anything, and because of this, I have a strong sense of family and community. My biggest dream is to build myself a family that I can work for in the same way— that is why I became interested in computer science in the first place. And not just for kids, either. I don’t consider blood to be the only basis of family. To me, family is anyone (human or animal,) who makes me feel safe. But just because I work so hard doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy my life. As I said before, I love living! My hard work merely is an expression of love for those around me and an expression of my dislike for boredom. With those two mixed together, there’s no way I couldn’t be motivated. 2. The most exciting thing about STEM is the money. Ha! I’m only being truthful! But truly, information technology is the future. Each day we walk towards a more digitized world. Our music, our favorite shows, even many people’s livelihoods rest entirely on an online presence. Working in IT makes me happy because it’s like working with a huge puzzle. It’s frustrating, sure, but you know deep down that there is a solution and you just have to keep building towards it. Beyond that, I know that this puzzle has a lot of people depending on it. My personal impact within IT would be to emphasize the importance of what we do. Not only are we creating and maintaining the technology of the future, but we are ensuring that the world can rely on said technology and count on it to pull through on these promises. I want my coworkers to feel like they are a piece of the puzzle rather than a cog in the huge, ineffable concept of technology. Even then, me being a woman brings a lot to the table. Did you know that Google’s “Siri” and “Alexa” have female voices because both sexes are more willing to listen to one? That’s right! Wired reports that, “In a 2011 study, participants listened to both male and female voices, and both [sexes] said the woman's voice was warmer,” and easier to accept commands from. My gender not only promotes gender diversity in the workplace, something every woman in STEM can value, but also allows for an easier conversation when inspiring belonging in IT. We as women are stereotyped to be docile, submissive, and easy to control. But as studies show, that isn’t the case at all. We have only been manipulated into believing that our voices have no power, but between the sexes in the workplace, our voice holds the control, and I am proud to admit that I will not abuse this power; I will use our influence to promote equality and community. 3. As chipper as I sound, I have struggled with suicide in the past. My dad was abusive both emotionally and physically, and on top of that, my social anxiety made it to where I had little friends. There was nowhere I belonged in my life, and after a while I believed that maybe I didn’t belong in life after all. I struggled with this idea from the ages of 10 to 15. What woke me up was a fated fever in a November that I can barely remember. Although my dad had left, he left his gun in my mom’s house. I stumbled through the halls, my head blaring with white noise and heat, and decided that that was the day I would kill myself. But… I couldn’t find the gun. It was always in the safe where he left it, but for some unexplained reason, it just wasn’t there. It took hours of searching before I broke down in guilt and called my childhood friend, Andy, to tell him what I had planned. To my surprise, he was not gentle with me. He didn’t cry nor spare my feelings at all. I remember exactly what he said: “Will you make your mom clean your blood off the wall?” I could never do that. Andy was angry out of a place of love, and although his phrasing might had wracked another suicidal person with guilt, it woke me up entirely. My death would impact others. It would leave my mom and sister alone. What I had known for an entire 15 years of life, “Hailey,” would be gone. Andy was angry because I did not value “Hailey” even though I had known her for so long. He was angry because I was ignoring all the love in my life because it was easier to only feel pain. I said I had no friends but really, I did. They were merely blurs under my vision due to my deep depression. So, I did what had to be done. People say don’t live for others and to always live for yourself, but I say live for whatever you need to as long as it keeps you alive. I’ve been to therapy since. I’m on so much medicine you wouldn’t believe. But here I am, still. It’s because I let myself see my community. It’s because I began to cherish my friends and family. And now, I love being alive, and I hope you do too.

Patience, absolutely. The successful investors that “make it big” never have a trigger finger when it comes to his or her money. A good investor waits until the right moment— checking news sources, who’s coming and going in the market, making educated decisions based on both— and then strikes to cash out. Even then, “cashing out” shouldn’t be the end goal. And typically, if it is, you may have the possibility of making some free cash here and there, but true financial freedom is never achieved. To me, patience is key in achieving financial freedom, and, to me, financial freedom is investing. COVID’s impact on the economy has had a boom in inflation. Suddenly, your 10k savings account is worth significantly less! However, had you taken the time to invest in the right markets, you could be a millionaire, or at least have a pot of savings that doesn’t lose worth overtime. All in all, I truly value the longevity that investing offers. It gives opportunity for freedom all the while creating an intuitive system that offers a secured future for your funds. And how is that security reached? Patience!

Listening is compassion. We all know the feeling of talking about something we really love only to be shut down by the blatant disinterest of our conversation partner. When we as humans are denied the basic respect that listening gives, a part of us breaks inside. We feel rejected, and less connected to one another. Humans are social creatures. We are not meant to live through our phones or stare off into space when someone talks to us because we are meant to talk back, and most importantly: listen. Listening is important to me because I have been ignored before. It is isolating and even depressing. It makes you feel like you aren’t worth acknowledging at all, because listening is the rawest form of respect we can give each other. I never want to be the person that makes another feel ignored. So when I decide I care about someone, I decide that I love them enough to listen to what they have to say. No matter how boring, and no matter how tired I’m feeling that day, I will always look my friend right in the eyes, put down my phone, and nod along, showing them that I am actively listening and care about what they are talking about. I listen effectively by quietly repeating key points of the conversation in my head. “I walked my dog today,” turns into “walked dog.” “My mom yelled at me,” turns into “mom yelled.” It’s easy enough to remember key phrases that allow me to gather the meaning of the conversation entirely. We humans share information for a reason: we want to be heard. So putting in the minimal effort it takes to just remember what they say means the world. Listening is compassion. Listening is respect. Listening is love.