If you were to view the Instagram profile of any teenaged girl right now, I can almost guarantee the comment section will be filled with said girl's friends showering her with compliments. There's no harm in this of course, but when you take a closer look at the poster's response to these comments, then you can see the problem. Instead of accepting all these compliments, they will respond with a "no that's all you!" or "omg stop!" It's no secret that teenagers, girls especially, are giant buckets of insecurity. It has become the norm for many teenagers around the world to either bounce a compliment back, or simply deny it. I was the leader of my youth group for several years, and during this time I got into the habit of greeting the girls with a "hello, gorgeous," or "hey beautiful!" I started this in an attempt to help each girl grow their confidence. However, I noticed that I would greet one of my girls as such, only for them to do exactly what I see in Instagram comment sections: 9 times out of 10, instead of accepting the compliment, these girls would come back at me with something along the lines of "oh not me, that's all you." Soon after I realized this pattern, I changed my methods. When faced with an "oh no that's all you," I would reply with "aww thank you, but I really do mean it." I wanted them to know that it's okay to accept a compliment. This was all it took for some girls to embrace my words. For others, it took a little bit more convincing before they would finally accept that I was being completely genuine. All without them knowing my original intentions, greeting each other in such a manner has become the new normal among the youth, and I couldn't be more thrilled. If there's one thing that the youth of today need more of, it's confidence. It's amazing how a simple greeting can completely change someone's mood. I've seen firsthand the effect a compliment can have on a person: they start standing a little straighter, smiling a little bigger, dressing a little bolder, etc. I have made it a point to compliment everyone I come into contact with, especially teenagers. At my job, I photograph hundreds of teenagers every day, and I make sure to take the time to pay them a compliment before I take the picture. I've noticed that on days that I practice this, the students tend to be much happier with their picture compared to days that I don't. Paying someone a compliment truly is one of the most impactful things that a person can do to change someone's life, and I make it a point to compliment somebody everywhere I go. Hopefully in doing so I will recruit more people to the cause. In time, we can work to cure the world's insecurity.

There are 3 types of people in this world. Past focused, future focused, and present focused. My father is past focused. I often get texts from him, reflecting on his actions in my youth and wishing he could have been better. When we're together, he tries to recreate the old memories from my childhood, rather than try to create new memories. He's stuck, constantly thinking of what was. My best friend is future focused. She loves to talk about her dream life. She'll find an apartment that resides directly above a wine shop, either in New York or Washington D.C. Perhaps she'll own a cat or two, and she'll spend her free time traveling the United States' National Parks. She spends her days wishing about what could be. The rarest type of person is one who is present focused. I have yet to meet an individual who has truly achieved this status. I find that past focused people are filled with regret, and future focused people are filled with disappointment. True happiness is found in between. I believe that the meaning of life is to live in the present. I often find myself imagining what the life of a present focused person would look like. To simply be able to enjoy every moment without the battlefield of regrets and hopes crowding your thoughts. I do my best to live in the present, to enjoy every moment as it comes, because there truly is beauty in every moment on this planet. If one can feel content in every moment, they have uncovered the secret to life.

During my childhood, my mom would always have the family participate in a game called "best, worst." To play, we would take turns naming the best part of our day, and the worst part of our day. Some days, I would have had such a great day that I would list 2 "bests" instead of my "worst." Other days were utterly terrible. Maybe I had failed a test at school, didn't get to sit by my friends at lunch, etc. No matter the reason, I was not allowed to name two "worsts." I was still required to name a "best" part of my day. Often, on these bad days, the best part of my day was that it was about to be over. This answer was fine with my mom, so long as I had at least one thing I could find to be grateful for. My family no longer plays this game, but the value of it will forever remain in my heart. I didn't know it at the time, but my mom was teaching us that no matter what, you can always find the bright side to any situation. Now, whenever I feel that I've had a completely atrocious day, I can sit back and look at the little things that I'm grateful happened. For example, I lost my 5 dollars on the sidewalk, but I'm grateful that my friend offered to buy my food. My plans got cancelled, but I'm grateful that I was able to watch a movie with my family. Finding something to be grateful for in each day can be difficult at first. Especially during a bad day. I started out only being able to appreciate the fact that my bad day was ending. But with time, it becomes a habit you'll never lose.

If nobody spoke their mind, then the world would never change. As someone whose default is generally a reserved people pleaser, I often find myself repeating this sentence in my head. "Your ideas are valuable." I tell myself. "You're not being bossy or rude." For most of my life, I've had it in my head that if I disagreed with anyone, I was automatically being rude. Because of this toxic thinking, I suffered through many group projects in which I felt could have been so much more if I had shared my input. When I started high school, I made a mental promise to myself that I would start to speak my mind. It was hard at first when classmates would disagree on my ideas for our final projects, but by repeating the phrase "If nobody spoke their mind, then the world would never change." In my mind. Making the commitment to share my ideas with the world has allowed me to rise to several leadership positions in both school, church, and the workplace. I will forever be grateful to myself for choosing to share my insight when I did. I have grown so much since then, and I have seen nothing but benefits.

Imagine a young 3rd grader, eager to try something new, walking Las Vegas's infamous Fremont Street with a bunch of older kids, her mom's camera in hand. That image in your head would be that of myself, entering my first every photography competition. I will never forget when my mom burst into my room at 1 am, shouting from the rooftops the news that would change my life: I won first place. Since that moment, photography has become a major part of my everyday life, and an art that I continue to learn about and grow in even years since starting. I can still picture clearly in my mind the moment that my father walked up to me and plopped the biggest book I had ever seen in my life right on my lap: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. "I want you to read this." "Why?" I asked. "That's a really big book." "I know it is. Just read it." Looking back on that scene, I can see the real answer behind his words: I was an extremely advanced reader for my age. He wanted to see if I could do better than the 30 paged "chapter books" my teacher was giving me. I was in 2nd grade at the time, and I finished the entire series by the time I started 3rd grade. In that moment, my father opened up a lifetime love of storytelling for me. I still read every day, and now I'm working on telling my own story through my very first novel. These small flashes of time have shaped the person that I am today. From them, has bloomed my greatest passions. I am a photographer. I am a reader. I am an author.

I enter the tavern, hefting my worn leather bag, brimming with books written in the ancient tongue, onto the oak table. A plate of decadent meats, breads, and cheeses is brought over in exchange for a few coins. (I come home from school and set my bag on the kitchen table, grabbing a snack from the pantry before I start my homework.) I hold my breath as the captain escorts the prince onto the ship. Captain said that he had valuable information about the lost treasure, but none of the crew spoke the prince's language. That's why I was brought along: to play the role of translator. (I pull out my phone, checking the answers to my Spanish study guide on google translate. I have a quiz tomorrow.) I can barely breath. My sweaty hands didn't make the task at hand any easier. I try not to focus on my friends behind me, giving me as much time as they can while fighting off the growing number of royal guards. I scribble in my notebook, then furiously punch in the digits. "I've got it!" I shrieked. "I got the equation!" The walls open with a hiss, and we sprint across the border, falling to our knees with joy. We're finally free. (I flip the packet back to its cover page and smile, mentally patting myself on the back. After hours of confusion, I finally made sense of my pre-calc assignment.) As someone who has always strived for straight A's, I have to find a way to make the incredibly mundane process of school, class, and homework exiting. I may not be a weary traveler completing research, be working for a dreaded pirate captain, or be a fugitive of the dictatorship, but I sure can fake it 'till I make it.

Mr. Brightside, by the Killers, is blasting in the car, ready to blow the speakers. 2 of my sisters are with me, one frantically trying to pull up directions to the hotel. Meanwhile, I'm simply following my gut, praying that it doesn't lead us to a completely different city. Our luggage is blocking my view from the rear-view mirror, and this is my first time driving on California freeways which, if you haven't had the pleasure of experiencing before, are treacherous. To preface this chaotic scene, I had just dropped off my mom and youngest sister at the hospital, where my sister would be undergoing spinal fusion surgery in a couple days. My instructions: find the hotel (which was 30 minutes away,) check into the hotel, unload everyone's luggage, and then head back to the hospital to pick up my mom and sister after her tests were completed. Over the next few weeks, I would be responsible for driving back and forth between the hospital and hotel several times a day for various different needs. My only problem with this? I was completely terrified of driving on freeways. Some details I originally left out of my opening scene: My white knuckles, the sweat threatening to drip into my eye, and my shallow breathing. The mere thought of having to face the freeway everyday nearly sent me into a panic attack, but I knew that my family had no other option. Every day, I braved the freeways, and every day, I loosened my grip. Eventually, color returned to my hands, and I turned the music down. I no longer needed the distraction. I may not always be as fearless as I claim to be, but I would do anything for my family. They give me the bravery of a thousand men.

Imagine a young 3rd grader, eager to try something new, walking Las Vegas's infamous Fremont Street with a bunch of older kids, her mom's camera in hand. That image in your head would be that of myself, entering my first every photography competition. I will never forget when my mom burst into my room at 1 am, shouting from the rooftops the news that would change my life: I won first place. Since that moment, photography has become my greatest passion. My dream is to be able to turn my photography into a career. Today, it's not uncommon to hear of someone aspiring to be a professional photographer. Don't believe me? Take a trip to any accessible destination on the planet and count how many cameras you see. While I have absolutely no problem sharing the wonderful art that is photography with the people of the world, it has become rather difficult to capture something original. I've made it my personal mission to find an original angle of every popular location. Steve McCurry took the infamous "Afghan Girl." Ansel Adams revolutionized landscape photography. Robert Capa's images caused people all across the world rethink their views on what war looked like on the front lines. These names are only some of the biggest in photography; a list that hasn't been added to for some time. Some people claim that mankind has juiced this world clean of anything new or original. I refuse to believe that. I would love to be able to work with a company like National Geographic, that can help me uncover the unseen corners of the world. I want to make people feel something with my art. I want my work to feel fresh. I want it to inspire. My name will be listed among the legends.

Since the dawn of time, humans have been making music. It is likely the one thing that most every civilization to have ever existed has in common. Whether it be used as a form of expression, a means to communicate a message, a ritual, or anything else, it has never died out. In fact, music has only grown stronger. I want you to think of that person. It could be the coworker that steals your food out of the fridge, your neighbor that lets their dog poop on your lawn, or the person just cut you off in traffic. Whoever this person may be for you, I can almost guarantee that you have something in common: When your favorite song comes on the radio, you're either singing along, dancing, or both. You can connect to almost everyone in the world through music, so long as you were to pick the right melody. I have full confidence that no matter how scary or chaotic the world is, we will be okay so long as we have music. Think of the infamous book & movie series, The Hunger Games. Even when almost all hope is lost, when its looking to be a losing battle against the Capitol, the people of all 12 districts are able to bond over one song. A song that was outlawed, because it was so powerful that it would cause riots. That one song was a key in winning the revolution. Scrolling through Tik Tok, I came across a hilarious stroke of genius, in which somebody put the lyrics of Apple Bottom Jeans, by Flo Rida, over the tune of I Get Around, by the Beach Boys. Who would have thought that in 2022, we found a way to create a piece of music that both people now and people in the 60's can appreciate? Music will always be changing, growing, and adapting to the new state of the world. As long as humans are making music, I have full confidence that we will be okay. Because without it, we would fall apart.

I did not want to go clean the river. I had a bad day at school, work in the morning, I didn't have any water shoes, and it was an hour drive. I could just go to the next service project. We do them every month, after all. Nothing on Earth could have gotten me to that activity. Nothing except my mother, that is. She claimed that, as the leader of the youth group, I would be setting a bad example by not going. She was right of course, but at the time, I didn't want to believe it. A couple hours later, I found myself in the car, headed to Warm Springs. Warm Springs is a lovely little sanctuary about an hour away from my hometown, Las Vegas, Nevada. It's completely run by the elderly, and they allow youth groups in the area to plan and host activities there. It has a natural hot spring you can swim in with a rock ledge you can jump off of, a gorgeous grass field, and a palm tree lined river flowing through it all that you can ride down on innertubes. Well, you would be able to if the river wasn't completely clogged up with gunk and palm fronds. That's why we were there - to clear out the river so that the group attending the next day would be able to enjoy the innertubes. By the end of our work, I had completely ruined my shoes, I needed a very thorough shower, and I was going to get less than 3 hours of sleep before school the next day. The service project was an absolute blast. I spent the majority of the time waist deep in the freezing cold river, handing pieces of debris to those who had stayed outside of the river. Instead of staying in my bad mood, I decided to make the best of my situation, and try to have fun. We danced and sang, all while doing something to help the community. Knowing that the other group would be able to have a great time the next day because of us really was a great feeling. As I said before, my youth group makes it a point to do at least one service project every month. More often than not, I'm excited to do service. I love the feeling I get when I think of the impact that our service will have. Regular community service has taught me how to be selfless, humble, and dedicated. There's no way that I would be the same person I am today without service.

In 3rd grade, I snatched a paper off of the wall on the way to class. A week later I'm walking Las Vegas's infamous Fremont Street with a bunch of older kids, my mom's camera in hand, participating in my first every photography competition. I will never forget when my mom burst into my room at 1 am, shouting from the rooftops the news that would change my life: I won first place. Since then, photography has become my greatest passion. I've entered and won countless more competitions, and I've just published my first ever photography website. I can still picture clearly in my mind the moment that my father walked up to me and plopped the biggest book I had ever seen in my life right on my lap: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. "I want you to read this." "Why?" I asked. "That's a really big book." "I know it is. Just read it." Looking back on that scene, I can see the real answer behind his words: I was an extremely advanced reader for my age. He wanted to see if I could do better than the 30 paged "chapter books" my teacher was giving me. I was in 2nd grade at the time, and I finished the entire series by the time I started 3rd grade. In that moment, my father opened up a lifetime love of storytelling for me. I still read every day, and now I'm working on telling my own story through my very first novel. These small flashes of time have shaped me into the person I am today. I grabbed a paper, and now I am a photographer. I was handed a big book, and now I'm working on my own novel. The past is full of pieces of today.

The afternoon had begun simple enough: peacefully floating along a river in the-middle-of-nowhere, Utah, bringing up the rear end of my youth group. The so-called “lazy” river held true to its name for roughly 5-10 minutes before God decided to start a second Great Flood right then and there. The rain hammered down, and the river began to form treacherous whirlpools along every turn of our route. As mentioned previously, my small group landed dead last in our procession. This meant that when I spotted one of the younger boys stranded in a whirlpool ahead, I knew that nobody else would be along to help this boy who wasn’t a strong enough swimmer to free himself. I immediately decided that I would be the one to jump in and help this boy, considering I was the competitive swimmer among my group of three. Ditching my lifejacket so I could move my arms, I wasted no time and dove straight into the murky, dead-fish-smelling water. I reached him in no time. Yelling so that I could be heard over the splashing downpour and booming thunder, I managed to convey my plan to the boy. With him clinging to my ankles so as not to slip out of reach, we set out. Too quickly, I realized swimming downstream had given me false confidence. Now swimming upstream, my arms burned from the lack of use of my legs. When I turned my head to breathe, I was met only with lungsful of rain. Coughing, spluttering, and now drenched, I miraculously hauled myself back onto my innertube. We made it. I had to ride back to the camp soaking wet, but I wouldn't change what I did. I was able to help somebody, and that was the best reward I could ask for.

"What are you doing!" I shouted, running for the trashcan. "You can't just throw it away!" "If I keep it, it'll die anyway." My classmate responded. "So feel free to take it." That's exactly what I did. Only being in 2nd grade at the time, I barely managed to avoid spilling the entire contents of the trash over because I was almost too small to reach. Thankfully, I was able to fish out my prize without incident. In my hands, I held 2 lima bean sprouts we had been growing in class, each with a sodden paper cup to call its home. After only a minor amount of begging, my mom allowed me to officially plant the little sprouts in her garden. Determined to prove to myself that I hadn't rescued the little sprouts for nothing, I was out in the garden every day tracking their progress. Free from their paper prison, the plants flourished in their new environment. Soon enough, the tiny lima bean sprouts I planted had turned into humongous lima bean bushes. They reached a point where my sisters and I would go out every day with our mom's mixing bowls and return with lima beans overflowing the sides every time. Eventually, the grand bushes died and had to be ripped out. But they did leave something behind: A spark. I had this newfound love of growing plants from a seed. I wanted to do it all again immediately. Unfortunately, my next attempt did not go as smoothly as I had hoped. My mom was in the kitchen, cutting bell peppers to use in kabobs, when inspiration struck. I stole a few seeds from the core of a pepper and went straight to plant them in the garden. As excited as I was, they never sprouted. I then learned that this happened for two reasons. One, I live in Las Vegas, Nevada. When you live in the middle of the desert, the hot sun makes it extremely difficult to grow anything that's not a weed. Two, also because I live in a desert, I have to water things way more than one normally would. Especially in the summer, which was when I had planted the seeds. I tried bell pepper seeds again, this time starting them out in a solo cup in my window that I watered every morning and night. These seeds also never saw the light of day, as I made the mistake of using the sand-like dirt from my backyard instead of potting soil. Still, I refused to give up. I tried watermelons next, using potting soil this time. To my absolute joy, it actually began to produce fruit! My watermelon grew to about the size of a softball before freezing in the harsh Las Vegas winter. I still counted this as a major success. My most recent attempt, I stole from the kitchen again. Two lemon seeds, planted in a solo cup in my windowsill. I decided this time to keep my lemons as far out of reach from the cruel Las Vegas weather as I could. My lemon tree has been transferred from pot to pot and has grown so tall now that I have no choice but to keep it in the backyard. It's been 3 years, and the lemon tree has reached 5 feet tall. I've learned from my mistakes, watering it plenty in the 115-degree summers and keeping Christmas lights around the roots in the winters so that they don't freeze, and I can finally say that I've mastered the art of growing produce in the desert.

Imagine a young 3rd grader, eager to try something new, walking Las Vegas's infamous Fremont Street with a bunch of older kids, her mom's camera in hand. That image in your head would be that of myself, entering my first every photography competition. I will never forget when my mom burst into my room at 1 am, shouting from the rooftops the news that would change my life: I won first place. Since that moment, photography has become my greatest passion. My dream is to be able to turn my photography into a career. Today, it's not uncommon to hear of someone aspiring to be a professional photographer. Don't believe me? Take a trip to any accessible destination on the planet and count how many cameras you see. While I have absolutely no problem sharing the wonderful art that is photography with the people of the world, it has become rather difficult to capture something original. Steve McCurry took the infamous "Afghan Girl." Ansel Adams revolutionized landscape photography. Robert Capa's images caused people all across the world rethink their views on what war looked like on the front lines. These names are only some of the biggest in photography; a list that hasn't been added to for some time. Some people claim that mankind has juiced this world clean of anything new or original. I refuse to believe that. I would love to be able to work with a company like National Geographic, that can help me uncover the unseen corners of the world. I want to make people feel something with my art. I want my work to feel fresh. I want it to inspire. My name will be listed among the legends.

If you were to view the Instagram profile of any teenaged girl right now, I can almost guarantee the comment section will be filled with said girl's friends showering her with compliments. There's no harm in this of course, but when you take a closer look at the poster's response to these comments, then you can see the problem. Instead of accepting all these compliments, they will respond with a "no that's all you!" or "omg stop!" It's no secret that teenagers, girls especially, are giant buckets of insecurity. It has become the norm for many teenagers around the world to either bounce a compliment back, or simply deny it. I was the leader of my youth group for several years, and during this time I got into the habit of greeting the girls with a "hello, gorgeous," or "hey beautiful!" I started this in an attempt to help each girl grow their confidence. However, I noticed that I would greet one of my girls as such, only for them to do exactly what I see in Instagram comment sections. 9/10 times, instead of accepting the compliment, these girls would say something along the lines of "oh no that's all you." Soon after I realized the pattern, I changed my methods. When faced with an "oh no that's all you," I would reply with "aww thank you, but I really do mean it." This was all it took for some girls to accept the compliment. For others, it took a little bit more convincing. Greeting each other in such a manner has become the new normal among the youth, and nobody denies it anymore. All without them knowing my original intentions. Now, wherever I go, I try to encourage those around me to be confident in themselves and their beauty.

Imagine a young 3rd grader, eager to try something new, walking Las Vegas's infamous Fremont Street with a bunch of older kids, her mom's camera in hand. That image in your head would be that of myself, entering my first every photography competition. I will never forget when my mom burst into my room at 1 am, shouting from the rooftops the news that would change my life: I won first place. I can still picture clearly in my mind the moment that my father walked up to me and plopped the biggest book I had ever seen in my life right on my lap: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I was only in 2nd grade at the time, but I finished the entire series by the start of 3rd grade. These two pieces of time, the moment I fell in love with photography and the moment I fell in love with stories, will forever play a part in who I am. Today, I'm able to take these two great loves of mine and use them interchangeably. I pluck the stories swimming around in my head and showcase them through my photography. Likewise, I find inspiration for new works of writing through my photography. Recently, I've been testing the phrase "A picture tells a thousand words," and so far, I haven't been able to prove it wrong. Photography and writing have always been a giant part of me, now more than ever. I am proud to say that recently I was able to publish my first website for photography, and I have started working on my first novel. I am a photographer, and I am an author. https://hannahjimenez0225.wixsite.com/stormy-bananas

The book that let me see the magic and adventure in everyday life. Great wonders unbeknownst to the world are right under the tip of our noses. We just have to look a little harder. The book that helped me grow to fall in love with myself; to find the beauty in my humor and procrastination and brains. Smart girls can save the day. It doesn't always come down to the big strong man. The book that taught me that 100 bad days make a 100 good stories. Does running out of gas in the middle of the gas station line and needing other people to get out of their own cars to help you, suck? Yes. Is it embarrassing? Maybe a little. But will you laugh about it in a couple months? Absolutely. The book that showed me that I don't have to be so hard on myself. Even the greatest know their limits. With great power comes great responsibility, but also the great need to take a nap. Naps are a form of self-love, not a form of laziness. The book that inspired me to find a new and brilliant passion in storytelling. The book that inspired me to write a novel of my own, to share my stories with the Earth and help a new generation open their eyes; just as mine were. The book that inspired and influenced so many aspects of my life. Percy Jackson: The Last Olympian

When I was in middle school, the adults leading my youth group would always tell us how beautiful we all were. I had a hard time believing this. I figured that they only said that either to make us feel good about ourselves, or because they were biased towards us like our families, or both. I didn't realize it at the time, but to me, you couldn't be beautiful unless you looked like an Instagram influencer. This toxic thinking of mine continued for years. Then, I started learning photoshop. Of course, I've been a photographer since elementary school, but the only real editing I'd done up to that point was simple color adjustments. My freshman year of high school, my mom started to teach me everything she knew about how to slim a figure, get rid of any blemishes, and remove any other unwanted features. Thankfully, she also taught me that these techniques are the same techniques that all of the Hollywood celebrities and Instagram influencers use with every. single. post. From that point on, my confidence has grown brighter every day. I pay no attention to the models of media, as I know now that most all of it is fake. I have gotten to a point in my life that I truly can see the beauty in every person around me. I finally am able to understand that my youth leaders were not, in fact, lying to us. Each and every one of us is beautiful in our own way. Realizing that has helped me to be so much more confident in myself, and in doing so, I am able to help boost the confidence of others by sharing with them the same lesson that my mother taught me.

Forget them, do what you want. A sentence that I spoke to my sister when she was distraught about posting twice in one day on Instagram because she was worried of what her friends would say or think. As silly as it seems, problems just like my sister's are becoming all too common, especially in younger generations. I fear that the youth all across the world are becoming so absorbed in what other people will think, that they rarely do anything just to please themselves anymore. I wish that our cellphones and computers could sense when we're reluctant to do something simply because we worry of someone's disapproval. I wish that our devices could broadcast this message across their screens: Forget them! Do what you want! Unfortunately, I fear the world isn't quite that advanced yet. Why worry about the opinion of someone that will be a stranger to you in a few years' time? The people that surround us in our daily lives today are likely not the same people that will surround us on our deathbed. But what if they are? Well, if they've stuck by your side for that long then you know that they love you no matter how embarrassing that song you sang at karaoke night was. The only person you should be working to please is yourself. Afterall, you're the one that has to live with yourself! So please, the next time you find yourself or someone you love hesitating to be themself, remember this: forget them, do what you want.

The single flower growing out of a brick wall in my neighborhood. It proves to me that nothing is impossible. The kids I teach at my church, who never fail to give a different perspective on a story I thought I couldn't learn anything new about. They remind me that I will never stop learning. My Doberman Pinscher, Roxy, who instantly hates any other dog that she sees, then turns around and snuggles with me on the couch after I've had a bad day. She shows me that everybody has flaws, and that's okay. The Mustang Medallion hanging on my mirror. It never lets me forget that I'm capable of anything I set my mind to. The Spider-man figurine in my room that my little sister got me for Christmas. It reminds me that I am the hero of my own story, and to do all the good that I can. It's the little things in life that keep me going. I try to find the meaning behind every aspect of my life, because it helps to remind me that life is an amazing thing that is worth living. No day is insignificant, and there is always at least 1 positive second.

Imagine a young 3rd grader, eager to try something new, walking Las Vegas's infamous Fremont Street with a bunch of older kids, her mom's camera in hand. That image in your head would be that of myself, entering my first every photography competition. I will never forget when my mom burst into my room at 1 am, shouting from the rooftops the news that would change my life: I won first place. Since that moment, photography has become a major part of my everyday life, and a hobby that I continue to learn about and grow in even years since starting. I can still picture clearly in my mind the moment that my father walked up to me and plopped the biggest book I had ever seen in my life right on my lap: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. "I want you to read this." "Why?" I asked. "That's a really big book." "I know it is. Just read it." Looking back on that scene, I can see the real answer behind his words: I was an extremely advanced reader for my age. He wanted to see if I could do better than the 30 paged "chapter books" my teacher was giving me. I was in 2nd grade at the time, and I finished the entire series by the time I started 3rd grade. In that moment, my father opened up a lifetime love of storytelling for me. I still read every day, and now I'm working on telling my own story through my very first novel. These small flashes of time have shaped the hobbies that make me who I am. I am a photographer. I am a reader. I am an author.

"In today's society, we are expected to go straight into college after high school in order to be considered "successful," regardless of whether or not that is what we are truly passionate about. This piece, made up of way too many "come apply today!" letters that various colleges and universities across the country have sent me, goes out to all of the lost souls out there who are torn between what the world expects of them and what they're truly passionate about with every fiber in their being. I feel you." I wrote this in a moment of teenage angst when I realized that college had never been my decision, but my parents, and for the first time I was considering pursuing my dream of photography instead. Since writing this, I have made my own choice to continue my education before diving face first into my artistic ambitions, and I know that a degree will help open up new and brilliant opportunities for me on the way. My message, however, remains the same.

For the majority of my life, I saw napping as a weakness. As a kid, I would pride myself on being the only family member on road trips, except for the driver of course, that didn't fall asleep in the car. I claimed that I simply could not fall asleep in the car, but this was far from the truth. In reality, I associated napping with defenseless little kids. In my mind, I was proving my strength by staying awake. This behavior continued on throughout middle school, and not once did I see this as a problem. Before long, I started high school. My freshman year went about as smoothly as one would expect, that is, until the second semester began. I would leave the house at 5:30 in the morning for school, and after head straight to swim practice, and then dance rehearsals, often not returning home until 10:00 pm. I didn't have my license yet at this point, so my wonderful mom drove me around town on these 17-hour days. By the end of the first week on this schedule, I was completely burnt out. I was a miserable human being and I wanted to quit everything I was doing. It was then, that I first discovered the true value of a nap. I started looking forward to napping every time I set foot in the car, and it was wonderful. I felt lighter, happier. I couldn't believe I had gone so long as an anti-napper. Now I know, napping isn't a weakness. It's a form of self-care. One that I now practice often. A quote from one of my favorite books can describe my new mindset perfectly. "With great power... comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later." - Percy Jackson, The Last Olympian.

Everything happens for a reason. The phrase that I shared with my friends when we took a wrong turn on a hiking trail, ending up lost in the mountains in the dark for a good 45 minutes. Words that I muttered quietly to myself when my youth leader's car broke down on the way home from camp, putting our group back a solid 5 hours. The sentence I repeated to myself a countless number of times when my sister's major surgery got pushed to the day before my birthday, meaning that I probably wouldn't be able to see my mom. Everything happens for a reason. Maybe our getting lost avoided someone's broken ankle. The car could have broken down just in time to avoid a fatal accident. Perhaps the new surgery date fell on the day the best surgical nurses would be working. I may never know. The phrase "everything happens for a reason" has taught me not only to look on the bright side of a bad situation, but also to have trust that I am on the right path. I will probably never understand the exact reason that these seemingly terrible things fell into place, but by keeping these words in my heart, I was able to appreciate each one of these trials, along with countless others. Getting lost in the mountains brought the opportunity for me and my friends, who have been drifting apart recently, to bond over joking about our "traumatic" experience. Our car breaking down allowed for me to spend one last good time with my youth group, as this was my last camp. When I turned 18 the day after my sister's surgery, I was able to go visit her during her recovery, as only adults were allowed to. Everything happens for a reason.

A familiar scene on the TV is that of a husband bringing flowers home to his wife. He stops to pick them up on his way home from work, and she proudly displays them in a vase. A grand signature of his love for every household guest to behold. My mom has been a single mom for most of my life, and not once can I recall a time that she was brought home flowers by anyone. My mother is the most marvelous person I know, and I wouldn't be the person that I am today without her. If anyone deserves flowers, it's her. I've started bringing home flowers to my mom every Monday, and though I don't know much about flowers, I know how to make a bouquet look semi-decent. Her reaction to the flowers has become the highlight of my week. Seeing the joy that something as simple as flowers can bring is entirely worth the extra couple bucks. So much so that I may just continue sending flowers to the house whenever I'm away. I would bring her the stars if I could, but unfortunately, I believe that doing so would not be very beneficial to the environment. So, until we figure out a way to downsize stars to fit your pocket, I'm completely happy to show my love to my mom through flowers.

Mr. Brightside, by the Killers, is blasting in the car, ready to blow the speakers. 2 of my sisters are with me, one frantically trying to pull up directions to the hotel. Meanwhile, I'm simply following my gut, praying that it doesn't lead us to a completely different city. Our luggage is blocking my view from the rear-view mirror, and this is my first time driving on California freeways which, if you haven't had the pleasure of experiencing before, are treacherous. To preface this completely chaotic scene, I had just dropped off my mom and youngest sister at the hospital, where my sister would be undergoing spinal fusion surgery in a couple days. My instructions: find the hotel (which was 30 minutes away,) check into the hotel, unload everyone's luggage, and then head back to the hospital to pick up my mom and sister after her tests were completed. Over the next few weeks, I would be responsible for driving back and forth between the hospital and hotel several times a day for various different needs. My only problem with this? I was completely terrified of driving on freeways. Some details I originally left out of my opening scene: My white knuckles, the sweat threatening to drip into my eye, and my shallow breathing. The mere thought of having to face the freeway everyday nearly sent me into a panic attack, but I knew that my family had no other option. Every day, I braved the freeways, and every day, I loosened my grip. Eventually, color returned to my hands, and I turned the music down. I no longer needed the distraction. Through fierce determination and will power, I was able to overcome a great obstacle in my life at the time, and I couldn't be more proud of myself.

For the majority of my life, I saw napping as a weakness. As a kid, I would pride myself on being the only family member on road trips, except for the driver of course, that didn't fall asleep in the car. I claimed that I simply could not fall asleep in the car, but this was far from the truth. In reality, I associated napping with defenseless little kids. In my mind, I was proving my strength by staying awake. This behavior continued on throughout middle school, and not once did I see this as a problem. Before long, I started high school. My freshman year went about as smoothly as one would expect, that is, until the second semester began. I would leave the house at 5:30 in the morning for school, and after head straight to swim practice, and then dance rehearsals, often not returning home until 10:00 pm. I didn't have my license yet at this point, so my wonderful mom drove me around town on these 17-hour days. By the end of the first week on this schedule, I was completely burnt out. I was a miserable human being and I wanted to quit everything I was doing. It was then, that I first discovered the true value of a nap. I started looking forward to napping every time I set foot in the car, and it was wonderful. I felt lighter, happier. I couldn't believe I had gone so long as an anti-napper. Now I know, napping isn't a weakness. It's a form of self-care. One that I now practice often. A quote from one of my favorite books can describe my new mindset perfectly. "With great power... comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later." - Percy Jackson, The Last Olympian.

Hannah Jimenez Bucket List: The Potirothon in Quebec- a competition in which contesters race across a river, using pumpkins as canoes. One day, I will ride in a pumpkin alongside my dog, Roxy Hide & Seek World Championship- takes place in an abandoned ghost town in Italy every year. Hide and go seek has remained my favorite game by far, since I even knew what it was. Of course, my favorite spots have only grown harder to fit into, but that leaves opportunity for new and improved spots. Go Dog Sledding- Dogs or Cats? Dogs. All the way. I sometimes watch my own dog run circles around the backyard and wonder what it would be like to be able to move so fast. A sled powered entirely by dogs who are absolutely thrilled to be running? That sounds like the perfect answer to my question. Throw a Dart at a Map and Travel Wherever it Lands- Most everyone wants to travel the world to see places like Paris, New York, Brazil, Japan, Milan, etc. Of course, I would be thrilled to visit any of these places, but I've always been intrigued in the hidden, less advertised wonders of the world. Whatever Year it's Turning on New Year's, Blow Up That Many Balloons- Now this is one thing off the bucket list that I actually completed. I recruited friends, my sisters, some random kids, basically anyone that wanted to come was welcome. Starting at 6pm, our band of determined teenagers began the ever-so long process. Though everyone brought several packs of balloons, we still found ourselves making several trips to Dollar Tree for more balloons. At 11:59, I inflated the 2,020th balloon. I then had a solid 47 seconds to cherish the moment before 12:00, when we murdered every last balloon.

Imagine a young 3rd grader, eager to try something new, walking Las Vegas's infamous Fremont Street with a bunch of older kids, her mom's camera in hand. That image in your head would be that of myself, entering my first every photography competition. I will never forget when my mom burst into my room at 1 am, shouting from the rooftops the news that would change my life: I won first place. Since that moment, I've entered and placed in countless different photography contests; and I learn something new each time. A huge chunk of the thrill of a competition for me comes from mastering a new skill, a concept that photography certainly has no lack of. One of my favorite examples of this comes from when I entered a contest meant to bring awareness to human trafficking. I had my friend stand in the middle of the crowded street in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip. My goal was to blur the dozens of pedestrians walking around my friend, which was definitely a learning curve on both of our parts. Eventually, after being bumped and shoved by the crowds, we got the shot, and I later found out that I won 2nd place in the competition. Photography has been my passion for most of my life, and I know that I will be working to master the craft until the day that I die. I take inspiration from the world around me and the stories in my head, and to convey these ideas through a photograph sometimes takes effort, but that's what I love. Deep down, I'm still that little girl yearning to try something new.

Not everybody has the opportunity or the free time to volunteer at a soup kitchen or assist their neighbors in their upcoming move. I certainly don't. Through work and school, free time comes as a scarce luxury. Even still, one of my favorite things to do as I go about my day is to make someone smile. One of the best ways to do this: compliments. You never know who spent 2 hours doing their hair that morning and wants to be recognized, or who just broke up with their significant other and needs a boost in confidence, or who is having a genuinely terrible day. Some people don't fall into any of these criteria, but the great thing about compliments is that everybody is deserving of one. I made it a personal goal a couple months back to speak out loud every compliment that comes to my mind. Like someone's shoes? Tell them. That guy having an awesome hair day? Tell him. Your neighbor's rocking new makeup? Tell them! Since I've been doing this, I've found that giving out compliments comes a lot more naturally now. I can find a piece of beauty in anybody. Not only does this make me feel good, but it's made several people's days. I know this because some have teared up in thanking me. Something as simple as a compliment goes a long way, and it has become my favorite way to help the world. I feel that everyone could use a good confidence boost, no matter what kind of day their having; and compliments are the best way to do that.

Imagine a young 3rd grader, eager to try something new, walking Las Vegas's infamous Fremont Street with a bunch of older kids, her mom's camera in hand. That image in your head would be that of myself, entering my first every photography competition. I will never forget when my mom burst into my room at 1 am, shouting from the rooftops the news that would change my life: I won first place. Since that moment, I've entered and placed in countless different photography contests; and I learn something new each time. A huge chunk of the thrill of a competition for me comes from mastering a new skill, a concept that photography certainly has no lack of. One of my favorite examples of this comes from when I entered a contest meant to bring awareness to human trafficking. I had my friend stand in the middle of the crowded street in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip. My goal was to blur the dozens of pedestrians walking around my friend, which was definitely a learning curve on both of our parts. Eventually, after being bumped and shoved by the crowds, we got the shot, and I later found out that I won 2nd place in the competition. Photography has been my passion for most of my life, and I know that I will be working to master the craft until the day that I die. I take inspiration from the world around me and the stories in my head, and to convey these ideas through a photograph sometimes takes effort, but that's what I love. Deep down, I'm still that little girl yearning to try something new.

The book that let me see the magic and adventure in everyday life. Great wonders unbeknownst to the world are right under the tip of our noses. We just have to look a little harder. The book that helped me grow to fall in love with myself; to find the beauty in my humor and procrastination and brains. Smart girls can save the day. It doesn't always come down to the big strong man. The book that taught me that 100 bad days make a 100 good stories. Does running out of gas in the middle of the gas station line and needing other people to get out of their own cars to help you, suck? Yes. Is it embarrassing? Maybe a little. But will you laugh about it in a couple months? Absolutely. The book that showed me that I don't have to be so hard on myself. Even the greatest know their limits. With great power comes great responsibility, but also the great need to take a nap. Naps are a form of self-love, not a form of laziness. The book that inspired me to find a new and brilliant passion in storytelling. The book that inspired me to write a novel of my own, to share my stories with the Earth and help a new generation open their eyes; just as mine were. The book that inspired and influenced so many aspects of my life. Percy Jackson: The Last Olympian

May 29, 2021, I was awarded the Mustang Medallion. A goal that I had threatened myself with giving up on several times since my freshman year, when I had come up with this seemingly impossible goal. Fall of 2019, I completed my youth group's young women program, mere weeks before it was to be done away with. Spring of 2019, I worked with my youth leader over a weekend to plan an overnight retreat in the mountains for the younger groups. My entire life I've been a goal setter. Sometimes I hate myself for it when I find myself staying up till the beginning hours of the morning, but I refuse to let myself down, and nothing beats the sweet taste of accomplishment that comes with the completion of a goal. My current goal is no easy feat, and I like to dream of what my life would be like if I simply threw in the towel and became some hippie on the street. Alas, just as many times as I think of this scenario, I remind myself of something my uncle always says to me: "We did not come this far, to simply come this far." I refuse to accept defeat. I WILL pay for college all on my own. I don't have another option other than hippie life, and I'm not sure I'm exactly ready for that yet. As for my future goals, world famous photographer & published author; they're on their way of course, one way or another the world will know my name. But to get there, I need to start here, and I've never known myself to give up.

My freshman year of high school, our school counselor came to our class and introduced us to the Mustang Medallion: a prestigious award that was awarded to roughly 20-30 students each year at graduation. Immediately, and without knowledge of the requirements, I knew that I would be one of those students. At that moment in time, I wanted nothing more than to walk across the stage with that medal around my neck. The requirements, which I later learned, where as follows: Maintain at least a 4.0 GPA in all honors classes for all 4 years of school, take at least 3 years of a foreign language, and 3 years in a CTE course. Though this may seem an impossible achievement for some that doesn't even warrant trying, little freshman me had all the confidence in the world, and there was no way on Earth I was going to let her down. I trekked on through extra curriculars, sports, clubs, a global pandemic, too many sleepless nights, and a handful of family emergencies. Often, I wanted to give up; just throw it all in the trash, but just as many times, I was reminded of something my Uncle always says to me: "We did not come this far, to simply come this far." I refused to accept defeat. May 29, 2021, I was awarded the Mustang Medallion. All too often, I create goals for myself that I later doubt myself on. Receiving the Mustang Medallion is only the most recent out of many of my audacious goals. Yet every single time, without fail, I find myself looking back at the younger version of me, exuding self-confidence. She has so much faith in me, and I can simply never find it in myself to tell her no.

The giant truck zooms past, almost clipping me after riding my tail for the last few miles. I raise my hand, prepared to flip the signal known all too well by drivers around the world. This driver very well could have caused several accidents with the way they swerved and approached 20 over the speed limit, and as one could expect, I became upset. However, I found myself lowering my arm before I was able to raise my finger. "Give them the benefit of the doubt." I told myself. "You never know anybody's reasonings." I then began to wish a silent prayer in my head, that whoever was driving this truck so manically would reach their destination in safety. By the end of my short prayer, the truck was already out of sight. I wondered where the truck could have been headed, and many different places arose in my mind, though silly enough, I never thought of my own destination. Just as I stepped away from my car in the Hospital parking garage, I noticed a familiar grey truck parked outside the emergency room doors. I never caught a glimpse of the driver, but I could only imagine who they could have been escorting through those doors: A child, a spouse, a parent, a friend? I thought back to when I was speeding myself simply a couple hours earlier to get my sister through those very doors. How would it have impacted me if another driver were to flip me the bird, as I almost did to this truck? I find it important to always show empathy to those that surround us. You never know what they could be going through, and you never know when you could be going through their very same situation.