In the five minutes it takes to make eye contact with someone and exchange a few words, majority of us have already formed an opinion of that individual. At the age of eighty, an individual has been alive for 42,075,936 minutes. Time spent with loved ones, tears cried and smiles formed, mistakes and achievements made, and values and beliefs shaped. 42,075,936 minutes pieced together to form millions of individuals into their own unique puzzles. We are all puzzles walking this earth. Out of the millions of pieces to this puzzle, you may only have five pieces. Yet, many of us will make our judgments and form our perception of another based off these five minutes. It is impossible to hold every piece of the puzzle when meeting another individual. For this reason, I seek to treat each individual with equality. I seek to understand there are always going to be pieces I do not hold, pieces of great importance that make up the full picture of this person. Numerous experiences have increased my ability to treat everyone with this equality, increasing my understanding of the importance of diversity. I work in a Level 1 Adult and Pediatric Trauma Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota, caring for a vastly diverse patient population and being exposed to the disparities language and cultural barriers can bring to patient care. I volunteer in low income communities with a non-profit who gives free books to children in poverty, exposing me to the importance of equality in things as simple as a book. It is these experiences where I learned we are all just puzzle pieces in each others lives, and we don't always know where we fit, and for this reason we must always remember the big picture.

When I tell people where I work, I have become accustomed to the inevitable question sprung from their mouths. "What's the craziest thing you have ever seen?" I work in a Level 1 Adult and Pediatric Trauma Center in Minneapolis, MN. This job has been nothing short of life changing, and brought with it not only immense experience for my future career as a healthcare provider, but it has also shattered my perspectives of the world I used to live in, specifically in regard to substance abuse and the impact I want to provide in my future practice as a healthcare professional. I am lucky. I am lucky to have not been plagued with the gripping destruction of drug addiction. Why do I use the word lucky? Since 2000 there have been over 700,000 deaths caused by drug overdose. 70% of children who try illegal drugs before 13 years old develop an abusive substance disorder. So I use the world lucky because I am, lucky; lucky enough to have grown up in a life where drugs were never a frequent exposure making me vulnerable to their formidable trap. Unfortunately, others cannot say the same. Without first hand experience, it's easy to write off substance abuse as an effect of the weakness of another person and their poor choices. To a degree, substance abuse is a choice, but to attribute it completely to an individuals free will would be equivalent to looking poorly on those who are thin living in third world countries due to their lack of food. There are two major factors you must be aware of. First, in reality, substance abuse is a matter of the great disparities and inadequate distribution of resources throughout communities across the nation. The systemic effects of institutions and the spiral effect on poor environmental conditions within communities promotes an inescapable hole for individuals to fall into. Secondly, when you look at an individual and reduce them to two words - drug user, you are essentially wiping away the rest of their story. This individual has parents and siblings, they possibly have children they tend to, and childhood memories just as ourselves. One simple event, one simple choice could have led them into these claws of substance abuse and here they stand before you being reduced to two simple words and yet, they bleed red just as you. This is why I describe myself as lucky, because it can take hold of everyone. Despite it's great prevalence, we must continue to be adamant against it. In my future as a healthcare provider, I am at the forefront of making choices on drug prescriptions, caring for patients with drug addiction, and being a front line defense against educating others on the number of patients who walk in our doors with this issue. In my current line of work, I have learned the great impact substance abuse has. I have seen the effects it can have from destroying families to ending lives. I have sat at the beside holding hands of individuals who plead to me that they wish they could stop the cycle of their addiction. So when the question is posed, "What is the craziest thing you have ever seen?" I know others may be looking for an impressive procedure I have witnessed or intriguing emergencies. Instead I tell them the thing that has left the biggest impression on me, the battle being continuously fought by so many in the world around us against substance abuse, and my plan to join that battle in my future as a healthcare professional to end it.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Each day. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five things. Five things about why I am grateful to open my eyes and start another day. We aren't meant to live on autopilot. Bodies bumping into one another in anonymity. Working hard but sacrificing ourselves, our happiness, in the process. I would know, I have fallen victim to this monster. So, five things. Each day I wake, I unfurl the string around my brown leather journal and write. I write five things. Five things I am grateful for. I write my appreciation for the way the sun dances across the page of my journal as it shines through the window and the sensation of the sweet coffee hitting my lips. I write about my gratitude to be privileged enough to receive an education, and how I am gracious to move my body or even to have the choice to give it the rest it needs. Five things each day, to ground myself in the world, to live in the moment. To slow down and switch off autopilot. To stay true to myself. By focusing on the good, I no longer can ruminate on negativity but rather cultivate within myself inner stability. There is so much power in focusing on the innumerable details of my life to be grateful for. So when push comes to shove, life becomes chaotic, and threatens to overwhelm me, I ground myself in my gratitude. My gratitude for what makes my life and I so unapologetically, me. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

It's quite comical really. The way our minds extract moments from our past. Seemingly insignificant, intricate details that remain stuck. Nonetheless, it is the culmination of these brushstrokes of details that become the mural of us, the painted picture of who we are. I find a particular brush stroke that draws my eye. The taste of mints. The tabletop mints, colored light rose, white and yellow pastels. The ones that hit your tongue and begin to soften, releasing their buttery flavor across your tastebuds. It is not long before you need another, and another. Crisscrossing my legs, the sun dancing around on the floor and illuminating the few dust bunnies sifting through the air, I would pop these mints in my mouth one after another until my hand reached for more but hit an empty glass bowl. Not for long as another hand would reach down, this one wrinkled and speckled with dark spots, filling the bowl once more. ' Afternoons with my great-grandmother. My great-grandmother instilled in me an understanding of why we are put on this earth, to love each other and never take a moment for granted. She was a strong woman, even when she was near death letting me crawl in her bed, holding me tight as I cried. I worry on days when I get caught up in the whirlwind of my ego, my desire for perfection, that I am painting over the brushstrokes of my grandmother, that I am concealing her memory behind ugly, messy strokes of darkness. Today this experience, these afternoons with my grandmother, lighten me, they make me desire to be like her, humble and full of kindness. Today, I work to fill the self-mural with brushstrokes of the taste of mints.

The doctors at my work are truly remarkable. Flash them an EKG rhythm strip as they are placing an arterial line on a patient and they know in seconds whether or not the EKG needs immediate attention. They have gone through extensive years of medical training to reach this point, where they can positively impact the thousands of patients they diagnose and treat. I, too, will someday be able to achieve this. Yet, at the moment, I do not have the education to have this positive impact. Nevertheless, in my line of work I have found my own ways to change the world. One way that I can spread positivity to the world is with a smile. I work as a Health Care Assistant in a Level 1 Adult and Pediatric Trauma Center, where I spend hours with individuals going through the most tragic moments of their lives. We had a particularly busy day, and I noticed a frustrated man waiting by his room. Amidst juggling the hundreds of tasks I had on my mind, I stopped by and asked if I could do anything. He said he had been waiting for hours, and all he wanted was a blanket. Each person comes to us with their own emergency, and many times we forget that they are scared and just need to know they are heard. I smiled, got a blanket, and asked if there was anything else I could do. He told me “you just continue to show up as you did just now.” I will someday have the education to create great change in medicine and in the world. Until then, I will prepare. I will continue extending my hand, opening my ears, and best of all, smiling, because I know the positive impact it has is endless.

My dream is to participate in a work of art, specifically a dance. Elegant and regal this dance is not; rather allow me to give you a sneak peek at our routine. Lights, camera, action; I try to keep tempo with the tasks at hand as beeping and shouts of agony sound around me. I hold hands with a little girl who just became an orphan as we waltz through the night skipping around the unavoidable pain woven through the room. Twirl over and take part in saving a life only this time the music misses a beat and there is a tragic ending to that particular part of the routine and I'm faced with seeing death at a young age, then pasting back on my stage face and onto the next one in need. This dance, this dream dance of mine isn't light, it isn't easy, but don't for a second think it isn't magical. I work as a Health Care Assistant in a Level Adult and Pediatric Trauma Center and am currently in school working towards a degree in nursing, of which I intend to further pursue graduate school to become an advanced practitioner. Dreams don’t come easy, which is why each day I take it upon myself to continue practicing and preparing for the day my dreams come to life, to take the stage as a healthcare provider. So I warm-up, stretch and put on my costume. I get into position with smile on my face, and as I hear the music begin I say “Hello, how can I help you?” to the next patient, because I know that in that small act, I can make a difference now, and every day to come. Lights, camera, action, sit back and enjoy the show.

Lub. Dub. Lub. Dub. We all have this mass of tissue and electricity, pumping blood through our bodies in a systematic routine. Our heart, a powerful muscle with a powerful function. It is quite beautiful. However, everything has its flaws and there are times the heart ceases to perform optimally. My favorite scientific discovery is the defibrillator. The defibrillator was first invented and tested as a last resort method when a 14-year-old boy was dying on the operating table. The surgeon chose to use a research unit, having never yet been tested and still sitting in the basement of the hospital. Yet, like most scientific discoveries, they arise from someone trusting their gut and braving the first leap, and it worked. I chose the defibrillator because it signifies second chances. I work in a Level 1 Adult and Pediatric Trauma Center and have personally witnessed numerous of these second chances. The hands of the doctors, the hands of the nurses, my hands, we are all humans performing this dance of medicine to save the human life lying on the table in front of us. Pushing medications, drawing blood, getting X-rays, trying to discover what went wrong. As the monitor beeps become louder and faces become more anguished, I notice the hand lying on the gurney, nails painted red. I see a life, a story. The heart that beat so well every second of every minute of every day, decided in this one second to give out. The images of this person's life flash as the atmosphere in the room becomes bleak. Someone reaches for the defibrillator, yells “CLEAR,” and the hand with the red painted nails jolts in front of us. Just like that, the monitor quiets, brows unfurrow, and a second chance to continue writing their story is granted.

The majority of students could recite a quote from Shakespeare. If not verbatim, they can at least manage to formulate a synopsis of Romeo and Juliet. They can provide the formula to find the area of a circle and inform you of how to balance a chemical equation. The academic curriculum of the United States is extensive; requiring students to absorb a vast array of information. Nevertheless, despite the ease in locating a student who can recite the steps of the scientific method; if attempting to locate a student who can fill out a tax form or balance a checkbook, you may be hard-pressed. As we navigate our way through life, finances are burrowed deep within each nook and cranny. Yet the basis of education we receive on finances is limited. Although we wish to fast-forward to retirement where it is palm trees and piña coladas, it takes work to ensure you can reach this point. The personal finance lesson I find the most important is to save more. Now I know it sounds simple. Save more. Yet, humans are naturally prone to desire immediate gratitude, rather than long-term rewards. For this reason, that Starbucks coffee before a day crammed full of classes sounds better than opening up an IRA account. So how an we save more? The first step, create that budget. I know many of us have an Excel spreadsheet from five years ago with our failed budget attempts, and it's time to crack it back open. Without budgeting, it will be difficult to create a solid foundation for saving. So next time your mind wanders to that delectable smell of ground coffee beans and sweet taste of cream, just think of the palm tress and piña coladas first and stick to that budget. Save more.

As the shelves towered above me, my neck would crane to capture the array of books at the public library. I spent hours here entranced by the stories all held within one room. I felt small, but not in a bad way, rather in a way that made me feel like I had thousands of opportunities. I would then go home to my own shelves, smaller but no less packed full of books. Chapter books, fiction, non-fiction. Genres of fantasy, mystery, or romance. On the right side I had a heavy stack of encyclopedias of which I opened on Christmas Day, crisp and new, from my grandparents. I know just by the smell how old a book is, and I know the familiar feeling of the pages sliding between my fingers with just a night light casting dancing shadows on the pages. Reading was and continues to be a warm place to call home, within the lines of the words from authors around the world, I found peace. Reading fostered my creativity and opened me to new perspectives and ideas. As with most hobbies, they evolve. As I grew older, I wanted to extend the art of literature to others. That is when I discovered a non-profit organization in the Twin Cities Metro Area that distributes free children’s books to low-income communities. Upon initially joining this organization, I figured it would be an exciting way to further my passion for reading, but it became so much more. I decided to take on a more prominent role with the organization and became their researcher. I conducted research regarding the distribution of low-income neighborhoods and the causes and effects of the disparity in children’s access to print materials. I found out that as my childhood unfolded, where I was never found without a book in hand, another child has never seen a book. While I set down my novel of the week 500 pages later, another child's extent of reading was from the street signs on the road. See I never knew how this could be a problem. To my mind a girl who grew up engulfed in print material - I could not wrap my head around how someone could be without a book, it's simple, it's just books. Through this experience, once again, my hobby of reading showed me how it presents endless opportunities, and this was my next one. This hobby of mine, curling up alone with a cup of coffee and my favorite mystery novel, has broadened. Rather than reading alone, I have many little hands fighting to turn the next page, their expectant eyes waiting to hear the next word, being exposed to the beauty of literature for the first time. As a little girl turned to me mid-story and whispered “what comes next?” I told her “whatever you choose,” and it was her smile that reminded me exactly why I love reading and left me grateful to expand my hobby, the gift of literature.

Sunday Morning The birds awaken singing their familiar song. The house comes to life with the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeating the air. Sunlight plays around on the table, dancing to a rhythm of its own. A newspaper is inspected by the inquisitive child, where she sits perched on her father’s lap, a spot carved out just for her. Dark, sweet syrup filled hands from the pancakes leave marks on the words “June 3rd, 2007 Sunday Comics.” The Pickles by Brian Crane. An elderly couple, their children, grandchildren, and pets. That warm feeling in your gut when you think of home, is what this comic series holds. When life gets tough while braving all the battles that adulthood brings, The Pickles on Sunday morning gets that smile on my face and a feeling of safety; sitting in that spot carved just for me on my father’s lap. Sunday morning.

"I will be drowning in debt forever," I told my mom as the pit in my stomach carved deeper and deeper. The entirety of my life has been striving for more, striving for more knowledge, more experiences, more opportunities. Whether it was reading all the books twice for the middle school book competition or trying out a new flavor of ice cream each time I went with my family, I enjoy learning and I enjoy expanding my perspective of the world. Now that I am an adult, this desire comes with a consequence, finances. My dream is to complete nursing school, become an RN, and then further my education as an advanced practitioner. With this beautiful dream of mine painted in my head, the work of art becomes diminished as brush strokes with the cost of tuition coat the canvas. My mother replied, "Not forever, you get your education and work to pay it off because, in the end, it will be worth it." Although not your typical financial advice helping you budget, invest and save; this financial advice has been the most helpful to me. Many times I find myself questioning why I feel the need to spend all this money to get a degree, or more so why do I feel that I have the right to. In these moments, I picture myself in my future career, carrying out my passion of practicing medicine each day to serve the underrepresented population and uncovering discoveries of disease and illness. I tell myself, this isn't forever and it will all be worth it, just as my mother instilled in me. Education is the one thing no one can take away from you. Although expensive and at many times it feels impossible, a strong education is forever.

It breaks my heart when I hear of an individual from history who accomplished enormous feats, yet their name will never spark our minds as great as the words "George Washington" or "Marilyn Monroe." We relish in the products of their hard work but may never know their names. For this reason, I introduce to you the name Nasir Ahmed. This may not be your typical household name, but his determination granted the world today a beautiful gift. Nasir Ahmed, originally from India, came to the United States in 1961. He was determined to earn his Ph.D., of which he did at the University of New Mexico. Along the way, Ahmed crafted the "discrete cosine transform." If you are confused, don't worry I was too. This thing formed by Ahmed was an algorithm to compress video down, allowing it to be transmitted and sent across distances. Essentially, anytime you call up a friend or watch a TV show you are enjoying the fruits of Ahmed's work. Ahmed's work was originally rejected, but he told the world that he had an intuition that something about this discovery was special. Going with his gut and belief in himself, Ahmed continued and published his work. Those days when the isolation was growing to be too much to handle, the times when our education stood at risk of being compromised, Ahmed's contributions allowed for communication to unite us through the COVID-19 pandemic. Not only do I admire Ahmed for contributing to such vital aspects of society today, I admire his pure determination to take on an unfamiliar task with strength and his ability to trust his intuition. Next time you say hello to an old friend over FaceTime, say a thank you to Ahmed while you're at it. Remember his name, Nasir Ahmed.

Flames blaze separating the men in uniform from the voices shouting for equal rights. Masks blockade the smiles we used to know from the sick they care for. Tensions split the air as one country decides the worth of another across the sea. Yet, each night as the sun leaves the sky and stars begin to gleam; we each lay our heads to rest. The question is not what is the biggest problem the world is facing, but rather, who. When asked to choose the most pressing issue in the world, I ask you to begin at the root, where the problem of utmost importance resides. The issue is with us. Our biggest issue is humanity's inability to stop defending one side or the other and begin defending each other. Somewhere along the lines, humanity forgot we all lay our heads down at night under the same stars. Americans today report being more divided than ever in history before. When someone has a heart problem, we don't fix the symptoms of fatigue and shortness of breath, rather we work on the heart itself. Whether related to wars, pandemics, or race we know from textbooks that these issues have plagued history since the beginning. We could pick one of these issues to solve or we could choose to open our minds and change our thinking, choosing to be united as one; solving the heart of the problem. As Albert Einstein said, "...It cannot be changed without changing our thinking." Break down the division and bridge the gap. Refuse to see things as true and false or black and white, because the only way to solve all the problems that are bound to arise is to fix the heart of the issue and choose to be great together as one.

Oh, the cycle of the parent-child relationship. I say cycle because it truly comes full circle. When you are young your parents can do no wrong, shining stars of pure bravery and inspiration. They radiate greatness in our youthful eyes as they perform acts as simple as being able to finish the monkey bars. As the circle turns, so does the child's perspective as mom and dad become the last people you want to be seen with and the first people you turn to for money. Yes, I am talking about the teenage years. Terrible two's? No, no, terrible teenagers, that is more like it. Now don't get your hopes up because as I said the circle will make its way back to when that not so little baby is an adult and mom and dad are once again gleaming bright. I have gone through each of these stages from the child's perspective and I am here to provide concrete evidence that it is in fact true. I based my childhood on one fact and one fact only. Okay, that may be exaggerating, but this fact was held near and dear to my heart. I took part in deer hunting with my father one weekend, and by deer hunting, I mean sitting in the deer stand reading my Magic Treehouse book while my father took part in deer hunting. I was growing extremely cold and frankly rather bored watching leaves fall off trees. My father could sense this growing misery. He took that moment to nudge me on my shoulder. I looked up with expectant eyes as he informed me of a key strategy used in the act of deer hunting. He enlightened to me that dogs are sometimes brought with them when people go hunting. Simple enough, but my curious mind wondered why a dog would be brought out to the woods to hunt another animal. My father informed me that these dogs have a small gun on the inside of their mouths that they can shoot from. Now, I know what your thinking, "haha very funny," but remember what I told you about the whole shining stars, can't do no wrong characteristic my parents held at this point. So, little 10 year old me soaked it up, astounded by this "fact." Years passed, I became a teenager and had my fair share of arguments and drama. My father and I particularly butt heads over how much time I spent with family or went out and about with friends. My parents knowing what was best for me was about as true to my teenage mind as the sky being pink. I am now an adult and I work in a hospital caring for patients every day. One November, I had a particularly sullen patient who had received heartbreaking news. Coincidentally, he was wearing a hunting jacket. Finding myself at a loss of words to erase his pain, instead, I went for a different route. I told him about the hunting dogs with guns in their mouths. This man's face lit up upon hearing my fun fact and laughter reverberated across the walls. At this moment, I knew once again my father was that bright and shining, all-knowing star in my eyes once again; not because dogs do in fact have this capability, but because he knew that laughter was always the best remedy.

If You Give A Mouse A Cookie by Laura Numeroff. Not what you were expecting? Why as a junior in college is this the piece of literature that fills me with optimism? Why is this children's tale one that left me with a sense of profound noteworthiness? One year ago as my voice read the simple words "If you give a mouse a cookie, he will ask for a glass of milk...," I witnessed a smile spread across the face of a little girl in a way that remains etched in my mind. I volunteer with a nonprofit that provides print materials to low-income children across the Twin Cities Metro Area. Aside from being an event volunteer, I conducted research for this organization to better understand the disparities prevalent in many areas where we see inadequate access to print resources, and the connection of this to children's overall development. Growing up, books were everywhere I looked, therefore it never occurred to me that there could be children who had never felt the crisp pages of a book to read before bedtime. For this reason, the words of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, though they may be simple to some, are absolutely extraordinary to me. Within this silly, circular tale of children's literature is woven the tools for children to think creatively; nurturing aspects of their emotional and social intelligence. This book represents hope for the little girl who hung on my every word as she was being exposed to the beauty of literature for the first time. Now I have concrete proof, that although if you give a mouse a cookie, he may ask for milk; If you give a child a book, the possibilities are endless.